Page 28 of Giving Grace

As soon as the waitress scurries away to top off the next table, Ryan clears his throat and frowns, clearly looking for something safe to talk about. Finally he settles on a subject. “I’ve never heard Nora call an outsider by their given name before.” Reaching for the menus he hands me one, his fingertips brushing across the back of my hand when I reach out to take it. Clearing his throat again, he looks away from me, aiming his dark brown gaze over my shoulder. “How’d you manage that one?”

“Apparently, I got lucky at my re-naming ceremony—” Thinking of my harrowing first encounter with Nora, I somehow manage to laugh, despite the fact that my heart is jammed in my throat. “The general consensus is that it’s for Grace Kelly, not Grace Faraday,” I tell him with a shrug, my cheeks flushed because the idea of me baring any sort of resemblance to a classic beauty like Grace Kelly is laughable, to say the least.

“I can see it,” Ryan says to his menu before flicking a nervous glance in my direction. “I mean—”

“Is that old lady your mom?” Molly chirps at Ryan from across the table, the question eliciting a muffled snort from the waitress while she fills our cups.

“Nora?” Ryan shoots a look into the waiting area, his mouth quirking a bit as he watches her verbally abuse the crowd waiting for a table. “No, she’s not my mom.” He looks back at Molly and the smile holds but I can see hold much it costs him. How much he doesn’t want to talk about his mother. “My mother’s not that nice.”

Eighteen

Ryan

Breakfast was awkward.

A lot of nervous, sideways glances. A lot of polite smiles and mindless chitchat. So much so, that by the time the check came I was practically crawling around inside my own skin.

Because I know the only reason Grace agreed to breakfast in the first place was to make Molly happy. That if she’d had her way, she’d been done with me the second she told me that whatever the hell has been happening between us for the past week is over.

I’m saying I’m a distraction. A way to forget what happened to you. An excuse to ignore it.

The bitch of it is she’s right.

Too bad that knowing it doesn’t make any difference—at least to me anyway.

It’s a good thing one of us is finally thinking clearly.

“We’re going to go look at wedding dresses with Aunt Cari after the baseball game.” Molly tells me from the backseat. “Do you want to come with us—to the park, not to look at dresses?”

My failure to immediately refuse the offer earns me another nervous glance from Grace before she flicks her gaze toward the rearview mirror. “Molly, I’m sure Ryan has things to do today.”

“Sorry, Moll,” I say, turning in my seat to look at her. “You’re mom’s right, I’ve got some stuff to take of.” It’s the same excuse I gave her yesterday morning, only this time it has the added benefit of being true. Turning around again, I look at Grace. “You can just drop me off on the corner here.”

Now she frowns. “The center is still two blocks away.”

“Yeah, but Con‘s garage is right across the street.” I tell her, reaching for the release button my seatbelt. “That’s where I’m going.”

She reluctantly does what I say, pulling over as far as she can. “Do you need me to wait?” She asks me, finally turning to aim that frown of hers in my direction. “I can—”

“No, you’ve got a ballgame to get to, remember?” Opening the door I step my leg out, grappling with my cane to get it in place before I attempt putting weight on it. Finally out of the car, I lean my head back in and look at Molly. “Are you still going to the Gilroy’s for dinner?”

She nods her head slowly, mouth quirked to the side like she’s trying to keep from crying.

“Then I’ll see you there.”

She brightens considerably and I realize she was expecting me to tell her I wouldn’t be there. “Aunt Mary has card games—do you know how to play Crazy Eights?”

“Nope.” I give her a shrug. “But you can teach me after dinner.” Looking at Grace, I force myself to smile. “See you later,” I say before shutting the door.

I give Molly another wave through the window before shuffling my way toward the sidewalk. As soon as I clear the curb, Grace drives away.

To tell the truth, I’m a little surprised Con’s even here. It’s Sunday. He should be at the ball field, along with everyone else but as I cross the street, I can see that one of the roll-ups on the garage is open halfway. The fact that White Snake isn’t blasting through the speakers loud enough to torture the whole neighborhood tells me it’s Con who’s working at 7AM on a Sunday and not Tess.

By the time I hobble my ass across the tarmac, my leg is screaming but I keep pushing. Using my cane for support I stoop over and let myself in to find Con’s boots sticking out from the undercarriage of the Mustang he’s been driving since I got here. It’s midnight blue with a white racing stripe and just about the most beautiful car I’ve ever seen. Just looking at it, makes my leg ache.

“You made your sister cry again,” he calls out from under the car. “Gotta tell you, Ry—” He digs the heels of his work boots into the concrete beneath them and wheels himself into view. “This whole angry, wounded warrior vibe you’ve got going on is really beginning to wear thin.” Standing, he tosses the wrench in his hand into the chest positioned near the front of the car. “I mean, I get it, man. You caught a raw deal but you keep this shit up, I’m gonna lose my patience with you.”

“She told you?” I barely manage to choke it out because as angry as I am and much as I deserve it, I can’t help but feel betrayed.

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