Page 46 of Giving Grace

“I’m a bonafide Teen Mom, so I sincerely doubt that,” I tell him, earning myself another chuckle while he maneuvers me around the dance floor with surprising grace.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says, dropping his arm away from my waist to give me a twirl. “Devastatingly handsome. Talented artist. Successful businessman. Famous family—” He pulls me back in and slips his arm back into place, his face tipped down so he can look at me. “and he can dance? I wonder what else he’s good at.”

“Actually,” I tell him with a sweet smile. “I was thinking that I’m pretty sure I saw your sister on the Kardashians last week.”

“Oh yeah?” He twirls me again. “Which one? Thanks to Captain Viagra over there,” he says, jerking his chin in his father’s direction. “I have five of them.”

Despite the fact that I have the feeling that things are going on around me that I don’t understand and probably wouldn’t like if I did, I laugh at his joke which eggs him on even more.

“Don’t let the gray hair fool you,” he tells me in a tone that makes me wonder if he’s joking or not. “My dad’s a player—and he likes ‘em young. If he thought you were available, he’d ditch the grill and be over here trying to steal you away from me in a heartbeat.”

“I am available,” I tell him because for a second I think he’s referring to the fact that we’re dancing and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea about what’s happening between us.

“Are you?” Went gives me another grin and whirls me around, giving me a full view of the other side of the dance floor and the stretch of grass beyond it. “Then someone should tell GI Joe over there because he’s been staring at me like he’s thinking about slitting my throat since I put my hands on you.”

Ryan.

He’s talking about Ryan.

With the view Went’s given me, I can see him, slouched in one of the wooden chairs that litter the lawn, cane leaning against its arm, glass of what looks like water dangling from his fingertips.

He’s looking right at me and Went’s right.

He looks like he wants to kill someone.

“I’m sure your throat is going to be just fine.” Looking away from Ryan, I say it to Went’s chin because I’m not a very good liar. “Ryan doesn’t care who I dance with.”

“Care to wager on that?” Went laughs again, his devil black eyes snapping with mischief. “Kiss me and we’ll find out?”

His challenge jerks my gaze up to his. “Nice try, Fiorella,” I tell him. “But I am not kissing you.”

Again, instead of being hurt or offended, Went just gives me a haphazard shrug and grins. “Your loss, chicken shit.”

Before I can even open my mouth to form a response, Cari is suddenly standing next to us. “Hey, Went—” she says, reaching up to pull my hand off his shoulder “mind if I borrow my sister for a second?”

“I guess not since I stole her from your husband in the first place,” he says, unlatching his arm from around my waist with a sigh so Cari can start to drag me away. “You ever start feelin’ brave, you know where to find me, Faraday.”

“I sure do,” I answer back with a laugh over my shoulder. “Buried under a pile of women.”

“I didn’t want to say anything because we were trying to figure it out on our own,” Cari says as soon she has my away from the dance floor and onto the back porch. “But then Mom got involved and things are spinning out of control and I don’t—”

“Out of control?” I say as she pulls me through the open set of French doors that lead down the hallway that opens into the kitchen, “What are you talking about? What’s hap—” My rambling is cut short when we get to the kitchen and I find my parents, along with Patrick and his aunt and uncle standing around the kitchen island talking quietly. As soon as they see me, everyone shuts up.

That feeling comes roaring back. That something is going on that no one is telling me about. That I’m the topic of discussion and decisions are being made without me. “What’s going on?” I look at Cari, pulling my hand out of her grip when she doesn’t answer me. I look at my dad. “Dad?”

“Everything is fine, Grace,” he tells me in that deep, soothing voice he used to use on me when I was little and woke up from a bad dream. “It’s nothing really, it’s just that—” He looks at my mom and sighs. “We’ve been talking and we’ve decided it would be best if when I go home, your mom stay in Boston.”

“For what?” I finally look at my mom before bouncing a look at Mary because I can’t figure out what any of this has to do with her. When no one answers me, I take a step forward, focusing on my dad again. “I don’t understand—will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Paddy surprised me this morning with a trip.” It’s Mary who answers me, her tone soft and apologetic. “To Ireland—with Patrick’s parents—for six weeks.”

“When?” I clear my throat and ruin my dress by wiping my sweaty palms on its skirt. “When would you leave?” I ask, suddenly understanding her place in all this. Since moving here, Mary has been my main support system when it comes to Molly. She picks her up from school most days and keeps her for me whenever I need her to so I can work and study. Without her help, the entire house of cards I’ve build here in Boston will collapse.

“The tickets are open-ended.” Mary says it firmly, shooting my mother a look that is less than friendly. “I wanted to sit down with you and the rest of the family to see if we could work out a schedule that would allow us to go, maybe over your winter break from school, but—”

“But that’s not really necessary.” My mom cuts in, returning Mary’s look with one that’s just as pointed. “Since Cari’s paid off the house, I don’t need to work. There’s no reason I can’t stay in Boston and help you with Molly.”

Yes, there is. I don’t want you to.

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