Page 28 of Walkoff Wedding

I don’t want to let her go again.

chapter nine

Addie

When I wake up the following morning, I almost forget where I am, whose room I’m in… whose bed I’m in, if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m nestled between blankets that smell exactly the way Grant does.

Clean and crisp, with a masculine hint of cedar.

I’m surrounded by it, and I burrow further beneath the blanket, sighing sleepily.

My eyes slowly open to an assault of warm morning rays, bathing the bed and room in bright sunlight. Last night, I was so emotionally and physically exhausted that I crawled beneath the covers and immediately passed out.

Which I was thankful for because I was worried that my brain would never shut off. I was internally freaking about everything that had happened and even more so about the fact that I was with Grant.

I didn’t really have a moment to look at his room until now in the daylight. The walls are painted a bright white, plain with no decorations or mementos. But tucked into the corner, there’s a tall wooden bookshelf that’s stuffed full of paperbacks. Most of the spines are worn and cracked from being read, and I can’t help the smile that pulls at my lips.

I bet a large portion of them are poetry books.

It’s something I’ve always loved about him, the fact that he’s a paradox. The fact that he’s this dedicated athlete, but he’s also… reserved, smart, and reads poetry.

And he’s also devastatingly handsome. Even more than I thought he would be.

My gaze shifts to his desk and the textbooks stacked haphazardly on top of it, along with a pile of hardbacks and opened notebooks.

Turning to lie flat on the mattress, I stare up at the stark white ceiling.

Did last night actually even happen?

I mean, if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m currently in his bed, then I would think it was only a dream.

That him offering to marry me was simply a figment of my imagination. But I know that it’s not because I haven’t been able to stop replaying last night in my head, over and over.

Could I really… marry Grant?

I tug my lip between my teeth and then flip to my side, placing my palms beneath my cheek as I think about that question. About the reality and the weight of what it really means.

If I think about it in black and white, it seems simple.

I was going to marry Dixon to save the bakery, even though it was the absolute last thing in the world I wanted to do. A guy who I hardly know, and the things I do know, aren’t great. Especially after last night.

Then there’s Grant, who once teased me about being my Prince Charming, my knight in shining armor who would swoop in and save the day… turns out he really is.

He’s offering something that seems impossible and that… just might be crazy enough to work.

And my other option? Marrying Dixon… It’s not really an option.

I know now that it never really was.

It seems so simple, the easiest solution in the world, to marry Grant, but a part of me knows that nothing in the world is ever really quite that simple, and that’s what scares me.

Pulling myself from my thoughts, I send a quick text to Amos to check on Auggie and let him know I’ll be by to pick him up soon. I texted him last night when I first got to Grant’s, asking him to check on him since I was “studying with a friend,” and he’d offered to take him home with him for a sleepover because Earl was dying for his “little” guy to come over. I sit up and push the covers off, then stand, making my way to the bedroom door, my thoughts currently moving at a breakneck speed I’m not equipped for this early in the morning.

Quietly, I open the door and pad down the hallway toward the kitchen. I’m surprised when I turn the corner and see Grant standing in front of the stove, the tan muscles of his back on display as he pushes a wooden spatula around a pan. His gray sweatpants are hung low on his hips, revealing dimples along his lower back.

My heart begins to pound wildly, and I realize how much I am not prepared for this moment. Just exactly how out of my element I am.

“Good morning,” I say shyly.

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