The Presence of Grace (Love and Loss #2)

by Anie Michaels

  I pushed gently on her shoulders until she moved away from me so I could look her in the eyes. I moved my face down and looked at her straight on. “You’re eleven years old, Ruby, so I’m not going to treat you like a baby right now. So, yes, kissing and stuff. But it’s not just about that. Adults need to be around other adults for lots of reasons.” What I couldn’t tell her was that sometimes, after a particularly long day, I missed being able to just talk to someone. To have someone around who asked me about my day. Or wasn’t under the age of twelve. And perhaps until I met Grace for the second time, I hadn’t even realized how much I needed it.

  “Are you going to go out with her again?”

  Honesty had to be my best policy and I needed to be up-front with Ruby. Jax was a different story. I would have to play him by ear when it came to Grace, but I knew I had to lay it out for my daughter.

  “I don’t know for sure. I know I want to see her again, but it all depends on whether we’ve scared her away already.”

  Ruby laughed at my joke, and I couldn’t remember a time when I’d needed my baby girl to laugh at one of my stupid jokes more than I did then.

  “But, I can promise you something.”

  “What?” she replied, using her fingers to wipe the tears off her cheeks.

  “I promise that I’ll never just spring a woman on you. I promise, no matter what happens, you’ll get a say. And I promise you’ll never have to call someone else mommy.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Grace

  It had been three days since I woke up in Devon’s house and made his children banana pancakes. Three days and no word from Devon at all. I hadn’t expected to hear from him right away, but I could admit to myself that it hurt when three days had passed and not even a text had come through.

  My mind kept wandering to the small kiss we shared. One tiny kiss. I hadn’t changed my clothes, brushed my hair, or even brushed my teeth that morning, but it was one of the sweetest kisses I’d ever had. At twenty-seven, I shouldn’t have been so obsessed with one kiss, but, good lord, I totally was. The way he pressed his lips almost to the corner of my mouth first, as if he were trying to make sure I wanted the kiss. It had caught me off-guard, sure, but as soon as I realized what was going on, I was all in.

  So why hadn’t he called? Or texted?

  I had to be at work at the bar in two hours and I knew it would drive me crazy the whole time. I picked my phone up off my bedside table and decided to take the matter into my own hands, tapping away a message that showed I was concerned, but more importantly, didn’t make me sound like a crazy stalker.

  **How’s Ruby feeling?**

  See? I was giving him a way out, giving him the perfect opportunity to reply and tell me how sick she’s been, how he’d probably be busy parenting for the foreseeable future, and then he could blow me off with a proper text message good-bye.

  Minutes passed and I watched them tick by as I checked my Facebook page and even stupidly tried to get back into the book I’d been reading when I fell asleep on Devon’s couch. That only resulted in having to reread the same paragraph five times.

  When my phone finally buzzed in my hands, I thought for sure I was imagining it. But then the little icon showed up at the top of my screen and I lost my breath.

  **Hey. Ruby’s doing fine now. We just kind of stayed low for a few days. But, fear not, she’s back to her preteen self, attitude and all.**

  Okay, so it wasn’t the I’m so glad you texted me because I’ve been thinking about you for days I was hoping for, but it also wasn’t the Look, you really need to get over me I was expecting, either. It was a nice response to my question, with a little cute dad humor thrown in for good measure. Gah. Dad humor. He was a good dad. Watching him with Jax and Ruby was always endearing, but watching him take care of one of his kids was the ultimate in ovarian disruption. But now, damn him, he’d thrown the ball back in my court.

  It took me a few minutes and a lot of typing and then backspacing before I was finally satisfied with my response.

  **I’m glad she’s doing better. I’ve been worried.**

  There. Short and sweet. Not the least bit crazy stalker. It took just a minute but he responded.

  **Sorry I haven’t called. After you left things got a little sticky with Ruby, and I’d like to talk to you about it, but not over the phone. I needed a few days with the kids. I hope you understand.**

  My mind immediately went back to the kitchen and Ruby asking me if I’d been on a date with her father, and suddenly I had a pretty good idea of why he’d been distant. On top of that, I felt really stupid for even thinking he owed me any kind of communication. Besides, I knew exactly what happened when you got your heart set on something and then had it taken away from you—disappointment.

  **Of course I understand. No explanation necessary. I’m glad she’s feeling better.**

  And that was the coward in me texting. I regretted the message the instant I sent it. But he didn’t seem fazed by it. Texting with someone you liked, especially when the relationship was new and complicated, was never a good idea. Of course, if we were talking on the phone, I’m sure there would be no way to hide the ache in my voice and he’d know I was hanging on every word, just hoarding them and tucking them away for a time when I could sit and run them through my mind over and over again.

  **You’re working tonight, right? And all weekend, I imagine. Can I see you on Monday? Another try at dinner? Afterward there will be a surprise.**

  An immediate wave of sadness washed over me. How many times would we have to try? If there was anything my last relationship taught me, it was that trying too hard was sometimes just as destructive as not trying hard enough. Would relationships always be difficult? Would I always feel as though I had to just keep giving and giving until I had nothing left? And was I willing to give with Devon? Could I take the risk? Sign up for another dinner, another date, with “second try” written all over it?

  My thumbs hovered over my phone as my mind turned in a million directions, trying to figure out what the best and least-destructive path would be. My eyes closed and I pictured Devon with his kids, the way he ruffled Jax’s hair and kissed the top of Ruby’s head, and my heart lurched. I remembered the way his mouth so tentatively touched mine, as though he were afraid I would break.

  It was then it occurred to me, with somewhat of a jolting realization, that I wasn’t fragile at all. I had lived through some of the most horrible situations—things I wouldn’t wish on anyone, ever—and I was still here, pushing through each day. Devon had endured more heartbreak than I had, easily. But he was still trying.

  **I’d really like to see you again.**

  I sent the text message and no sooner had I pressed the button did my phone ring in my hands, showing a call from Shelby, almost as if she knew I needed someone to talk to at that exact moment.

  “Your best friend ESP is on point today,” I said in greeting.

  “Really? That’s awesome. What do you need?” I could hear her smile through the phone and it went a long way to ease the anxiety coursing through me.

  “Do you remember that guy I went to Disney World with? The parent of one of my students?”

  “Yeah….”

  “We’ve seen each other a few times in the last couple weeks, but our last date went downhill fast.”

  “Oh, damn. What happened?”

  “We went out to dinner but had to leave early because his daughter, Ruby, got sick and he had to take her to the ER. I stayed with him because he seemed like he could use the help, and I wanted to, but the whole thing was a disaster. I ended up sleeping on his couch and when Devon finally woke up, everything was awkward, until he kissed me, and then I didn’t hear from him—”

  “Whoa. Slow your roll, honey. Did you say Ruby and Devon?”

  “Yeah,” I answered, confusion apparent in my voice.

  “And what was your student’s name? The little boy?”

  “Jax.” Confusion was still sha
rp in my voice. “Why?”

  “Are you dating Devon Roberts?”

  Her question would have made me stumble backward had I been standing. “How do you know his last name? I never told you that.”

  “Wow. It’s really ironic that your first date was at Disney because it’s a small fucking world, Grace.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Devon Roberts. Father to Ruby and Jax. Widower of Olivia Roberts. I knew them. Well, I knew them through Evelyn.”

  “You know Evelyn?” My head was beginning to hurt. “Will you just tell me what’s going on?”

  “I used to work with Evelyn. Do makeup and modeling for her shoots sometimes. I didn’t really know Olivia or her family, except when they’d come to shows or gallery parties. But, after Olivia passed away, I spent a lot of time with Evie, working with her, but also trying to help her with the Devon situation.”

  “The Devon situation?” I parroted, an empty pit growing in my stomach.

  “Devon and Evie went through this whole will-they-won’t-they period after his wife died. From what she told me, they’d spent a lot of time throughout their entire friendship fighting an attraction, and when things got complicated between them, everything fell apart. That’s when he left Fairbanks.”

  “Wait, Evie? His wife’s best friend?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered.

  “So, his wife died and then he started an affair with her best friend? That doesn’t sound like Devon.”

  “It wasn’t really an affair, or at least it didn’t sound like one from what she told me. It was also a few years ago, so the details are fuzzy. All I know is that Evie spent a lot of time with his kids, and she eventually just kind of fell into the role left empty by Olivia. I think the lines between Devon and Evie blurred, but then it all just kind of ended. He moved and so did she.”

  “Wow. I had no idea. And I’ve met Evie. She was at Disney too. This is all so strange.” I was teetering between angry that Devon hadn’t told me about Evelyn, and ashamed for listening to a third-party story about him. I loved Shelby, she was my best friend, but there was no way she knew the absolute truth.

  “Listen, Grace. From everything I know about him, he’s a good guy. And Evie is happy with Nate. They just both went through a hard time when his wife passed and I was the person she vented to.”

  “Wow,” I said on a breath. “What are the odds that we’d all know each other in this weird, convoluted way?”

  “Like I said, it’s a small, small world.”

  “It’s just such a big coincidence. And, Shel, he hasn’t told me anything about Evie, just that she and his wife were friends.” I paused, trying to put my thoughts in order, and Shelby waited, just like I knew she would. “He doesn’t owe me anything. We haven’t even been able to complete one full date. But the connection between us….” I closed my eyes and the image of him was almost immediate. The blond hair, the blue eyes, the way his whole face would light up with a smile. “It’s been so long since I felt anything for anyone. Not since Jeff. And we both know how that ended.” I finished my sentence on a laugh, trying to make light of the heaviest thing in my life, the thing that weighed me down more than anything ever had or would. The proverbial boulder I felt as though I’d be pushing up a hill for eternity, just to have it roll back down and start again. “I can’t go through that again.”

  “I know, honey,” she whispered. “Maybe just talk to him. Does he know about Jeff?”

  “No,” I said, although it was so quiet I wasn’t sure she heard me.

  “I’m not saying he has to know—what you lived through is really personal and not something you need to tell everyone—but if you want anything with Devon, you’re going to have to tell him eventually.”

  “I know. Man,” I said as I sat up and ran my hand through my hair. “Dating is stupid. This whole situation is dumb. I should have started with a one-night stand. I went straight from just out of a seriously messed-up relationship to falling for a man with a lot of baggage.”

  “You think you’re falling for him?” Shelby asked quietly.

  I thought about her question, then answered honestly. “Yeah, which is why this sucks and also why I’m thinking about calling the whole thing off.”

  “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I do think you should talk to him before you make any final decisions. He probably feels the same way about you, and would probably have told you about Evie eventually. And she’s a really good person, too, Grace. It was a bad situation for everyone involved. Just like yours.”

  I knew she was right. I’d liked Evie, and in some demented way I could totally see why Devon would be attracted to her. The only way I could describe the way I felt was icky. Like I’d been left out of some joke and everyone was laughing at me—which I also knew was ridiculous.

  “Thanks, Shel. Sorry to always drop all the drama on your lap.”

  “Hey, that’s what I’m here for. And for the record, I’m pretty sure I dropped the drama on your lap this time.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You totally did,” I said with mock irritation. “But seriously, is there a reason you called? I just kind of railroaded our whole conversation.”

  “Not really,” she replied, and I could almost hear her shrugging. “I just saw the best friend bat-signal and decided to call.”

  “You’re the best. Thanks for always looking out for me.”

  “Anytime, sister.”

  I hung up and noticed Devon had texted me back.

  **Great. Will six work?**

  I stared at the text and every emotion inside me waged for control. I wanted to see him, wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, to believe that there was nothing to the story about him and Evie, but the doubt that still lingered grabbed hold tightly. If anything, I just needed a little time. Time to think clearly and work through my own issues, to come to terms with the fact that everyone had a past, even me, and that if I expected Devon to share his story with me, I should be prepared to share my own with him.

  Inevitably, fear made the decision for me.

  **I’m sorry. I’m going to have to back out. There’s a lot going on for me right now, and I think it would be best if we just took a few steps back. Maybe we can try again sometime down the line.**

  I sent the text, then immediately powered down my phone. I didn’t want to know what Devon had to say in response. It didn’t really matter. The only thing that mattered was that I didn’t want to be emotionally wrecked again, and I was beginning to realize that Devon Roberts had the potential to ruin me.

  I’d made it through a few hours of my shift, but I hadn’t succeeded in keeping Devon from my thoughts. I wondered if he’d texted back, how he’d responded to my decision to take some time for myself, but I managed to keep my phone in my purse and not turn it on. Instead, I focused on smiling and pretending everything was fine, as I knew full well that a sulky and depressed bartender didn’t make great tips.

  “What time are you off tonight? Need a ride home?”

  A guy who looked just barely legal had been sitting at the bar for nearly my whole shift, slowly sucking down Jack and Cokes. As was usually in the job requirement of bartenders, I made polite conversation, threw him a couple smiles, and I may have batted my eyelashes at him a few times. It was harmless flirting, and most of the time the guys played along. They didn’t really want to take home the bartender, but they liked getting their egos stroked before they went out onto the wild dance floors, looking for hopefuls.

  As the night went on, and the music grew louder, I was forced to lean closer to hear him order, and wasn’t convinced he needed to press his lips to my ear for me to hear him, but I let it slide. Now, he was slurring his words, and sooner or later I knew I would have to tell Randy, our security, to take his keys and call him a cab.

  “I don’t need a ride, but even if I did, I don’t think you’re the right person for the job,” I hollered over the loud music. I backed away, using a towel to wipe
the bar, and watched as he slowly realized what I’d said, a drunken smile spreading across his face.

  “I see. You like to play hard to get,” he said, pointing a finger at me, eyes narrowed, as if he’d just figured me out. I just laughed and turned to another less-drunk customer to take their order. A few minutes later when I made my way down the bar again, drunken guy was gone, and I was secretly glad. I knew bartending came with its fair share of brushing off dudes, but that summer in particular seemed to be chock-full of lonely college guys looking for an easy score.

  I watched as Randy passed in front of the bar, doing his security check. Every half hour he took a lap around the building while someone watched the door, just to make sure everything was on the up and up, and so people realized he was there. I’d found that just seeing Randy was the main reason he was so good at his job; no one wanted to mess with him. He was at least six foot four, easily over three hundred pounds, bald, arms full of tattoos, and had a beard that hit his chest. If you weren’t afraid of him just by looking at him, you were stupid. The funny part was, he was a big softy. I’d caught the tail end of a phone conversation in which he was talking to his granddaughter about Barbie, and ever since he told her that the purple shoes went better with the silver dress than the pink, I knew there was a gooey center to him.

  He nodded as he passed me by, and I nodded back, which was our code for “Everything here is fine.” Had he passed by when drunk guy was still hitting on me, I would have flagged him down. He made his way through the dance floor and up onto the DJ’s stage without incident. I watched as Randy’s eyes roamed over the crowd, looking for any sign of drunken frat boy shenanigans. When he seemed satisfied that no one was going to cause any problems, he made his way back to the front door, where he acted as bouncer and general scarer of the clientele.

  Roxanne, the other girl working the bar that night, slid over to my side and leaned toward me.

  “I’m gonna take my break and then cover you while you take yours, all right? I just served up everyone on my side, so they should be good for a few.”