Page 4 of Always Been Yours

I don’t want to be, but I’m weirdly fascinated by seeing this side of Grady. I’ve known him our entire lives but not likethis.There was the boy who was my best friend, the teenage idiot and the college baseball player that drunk me, apparently, didn’t seem to care for.

But the man standing in front of me now is exactly that.

A man.

This Grady—single father Grady—has a sharp jawline and a light layer of day-old scruff. He always towered over me, but he’s even taller than I remember. The mocha curls are a bit longer than they were when I saw him at his parents’ vow renewal many moons ago. In one hand, he’s holding a very tiny, very lumpy, ceramic mug that has#1 dadcarved into the side. I’m assuming one of his daughters made it because, even from here, I can see that there’s a hole just above theA, making it so that he wouldn’t be able to fill it more than three-quarters of the way full.The other is casually tucked into the pocket of his forest green chino shorts. Theshortchino shorts. The ones that look almost indecent on a man with legs like that. More specifically, thighs likethat.Long and muscular. Could probably crack a watermelon if he tried.

My eyes drop to the floor once the heat rapidly spreads through my body.

Get it together, Vivi.

I can’t look at Grady like that.

It’s a nice pair of legs sprinkled with some dark hair.

Sure, they are thick… and defined… and…

Holy shit, woman.

I get my mind out of the gutter and focus on his shoes. He’s still wearing Adidas. Which makes me want to smile, and I hate myself for it. These ones are white with dark gray lines down the side. His High Tides Charter School hoodie also makes me bite back a laugh. He hasn’t even had his official first day of working here, and yet it’s just so Grady.

He looks good, likereallygood, and I’ve never hated him more because of it. We all hope that the first boy to break our heart will turn into a smelly, hairy curmudgeon, but I didn’t get that lucky.

Once I get a grip on my libido and sanity, I realize something.

“You called me Genevieve,” I mutter before I can stop myself. Grady never called me Genevieve. He’s the one who started Vivi when we first met at the Fourth of July block party. Before then, it was Gen—which I always hated—or my full name. I was five years old, and Grady was two months away from turning six. His family had just moved to Amada Beach about a year after we did, and he was playing all alone, so I took a plate of hotdogs over to him. I know, it’s weird, but it worked for us. We introduced ourselves, he said Genevieve was too long of a name for such a small person. After a few minutes of brainstorming, Grady settled on Vivi, and that was that.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I sit up straighter. “Your daughters are a delight. They must get that from their mother.” I throw him a smirk before looking at my old computer. The damn thing barely works but it gets shoved to the end of the budget list every year. Grady’s mom Selena, who is also the school’s librarian, and I talked to a few of the other teachers this year and have requested time at the nextcommittee meeting. Which is in two days.

Grady gives me an assessing look then a soft smile. One that doesn’t bring out his dimple but crinkles the skin around his eyes. “It’s good to see you,Vivi.”

I bite back a snarky retort, if only because I told his daughters I didn’t hate him.

“Stella and Daisy will be in third grade and kindergarten here, so I’m sure there will be plenty of time for you to tell them all the ways to torment my life.” The amused tone is back in his voice. It’s the quiet sibling to his playful mood he used to save just for me. Not that anything of his isjust for meanymore.

And I wouldn’t want it if it was.

“Awesome. Can’t wait. I’ll make sure to go through my childhood diaries for ideas.”

I’m feeling more flustered than I care to admit, but I wasn’t prepared for this today. I’m tired and close to burnout. It has been weeks since I had time to relax that wasn’t for showering or sleep. I don’t have it in me for a full-on verbal battle today. Between helping at the bookstore, preparing for the new year, prepping for the meeting, and volunteering at our summer camp program, I’m at the end of my mental rope.

He leans against the door frame, never fully entering the classroom, and takes a small sip from his mug, careful not to spill. “Even I’m interested in reading those.”

“No need to waste your time. Imagine all of your worst nightmares, and it will read something like that.” I give him a poisonous smile.

He snorts. The bastard actuallysnorts.

“Yup, I’m sure that’s exactly what I would find.” He stands up straight and looks back at his daughters. “Alright, little ladies let’s go. We have to meet Auntie Blake at the house.”

Stella stands up and gives me a quick wave before scurrying out. Daisy skips over to my desk and holds her hand out. I take it in mine, and she gives it a frenzied shake. “It was so nice to meet you, Miss Davies!” she singsongs.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Daisy.” I give her my biggest smile and shake her arm wildly in return.

It makes her giggle before she skips to her sister in the hall.

Grady softly taps the door. “See you Sunday,Miss Davies.“ Then he walks down the hall, as if he wasn’t waiting there to begin with.

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