Page 32 of Drop the Mitts

“One more thing. You’re going to enjoy this. You’re not going to eat it only to eat. You’re going to eat it for pleasure. This is food you didn’t have to cook or buy yourself. You have friends here. You’re not in this alone, and that means you can take a breath and savour it.”

Grace watched him with wide, glistening eyes. She quickly looked away and sniffed before taking a bite. Sauce dripped over her palm and down the inside of her wrist. Her eyes fluttered, and there was a small, audible moan in her throat.

“Exactly.” André bit into his al pastor. Even though the tacos had been sitting in the bag for close to half an hour at this point, the double corn tortillas kept them from falling apart.

They finished their first tacos together. André rinsed his hands at the sink, then pulled two glasses from the cupboard. He filled them both with water and squeezed in a little of the extra lime. André rounded the counter and set Grace’s drink beside her plate. “You’re going to get the glass dirty, but you’re not going to care because it’s easily washable.”

Grace nodded once, then hesitated for a split second before picking up the glass from the counter and taking a drink.

“That’s good,” André murmured. Grace set the glass back on the counter. André returned to his place across from her. He nodded at the opened foil in front of her. “Eat the second one.”

Grace dropped her eyes, but not before André saw the tears welling there. They ate together, then André threw out their trash and hand-washed their glasses after Grace cleaned up at the sink. He set them to dry, then turned to find her leaning against the island, watching him.

She swiped at her cheek. “Thank you.”

André dried his hands on the tea towel she had sitting beside the sink. “You’re welcome.”

She pursed her lips, then released them. “Is it over?”

“Is what over?”

She let out a small embarrassed laugh. “I—there are a lot of calls I need to make. I should probably—” Grace paused when her phone lit up on the counter. André glanced down and saw the caller without meaning to. Elodie Shaw.

He frowned, wondering if it was his phone he was seeing for a moment until he felt the outline of it in his pocket.

“Oh, I need to get that.” Grace hurried over and snatched the phone from the granite. She answered the call with a chipper, “Hello!” then mouthed, “I’m so sorry” to André .

Elodie Shaw.Grace was talking to Elodie Shaw two feet from him. It wouldn’t have felt strange at all if he’d spoken to Elodie besides a brief hello at Christmas in the past two years. But since he hadn’t, the fact that Grace was shooting the breeze with his sister made his stomach twist.

Why were they talking?

Had it really been two years?

André did the mental calculations as he strode to the door. Grace was already walking down the hall and lowering her voice—obviously something she didn’t want him to overhear. Which made it even easier for him to get the hell out of her condo. For both their sakes.

André strode out of the kitchen, his pulse racing. He slipped on his shoes, opened the front door, and stepped out into the night. By the time he descended the steps, he was already reaching for his phone.

Chapter

Thirteen

Grace

On Friday morning,Grace stood in the gutted hallway of the Kensington building with her arms crossed. Matthew, her contractor, flipped through his notes, discussing permits, delays, and a structural issue they didn’t recognize until they pulled up the flooring in unit 3C.

His voice droned on, but she barely heard him. She didn’t want to be standing in this freezing, half-finished building when all she could think about was tacos.

After finally receiving a phone call from the therapist working with Amey, Hope’s birth mother, she’d walked back out into the living area to find André gone. She couldn’t blame him. She’d been on the phone for at least ten minutes, though she hadn’t accomplished much.

All week, she’d been trying to get in contact with Elodie Shaw. She hoped they’d be able to set up an in-person meeting, but Elodie skirted the request twice on the phone. She wasn’t interested in discussing anything with her, even off the record.It wasn’t as if Grace was asking her to break therapist-patient confidentiality. She only wanted to encourage Elodie to get written consent from Amey for her to have a conversation and, if this thing did go to court, for her testimony to be included.

Amey’s mental state needed to be determined. Based on the texts and emails she’d read, Amey had consistently desired adoption. So why would she change her mind now?

Surprisingly, the frustration she felt after Elodie ended the call was eclipsed by the disappointment of leaving and finding her living room empty. Which was concerning on multiple levels.

Heat rushed to her middle as she remembered André pulling plates from her cupboard. How he’d pressed his hands against the counter and told her to enjoy the food, and she’d mentally superpositioned herself in the rounded space between his arms.

That wasn’t what she wanted. André was charming, yes, but he was reckless and crass—he was a smoker—and there was no universe where pushing boundaries with another smooth-talking womanizer went well for her. Not to mention, André was young and hadn’t even started to figure out his life yet. He probably ate ramen four days a week and had a healthy amount of credit card debt.

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