Page 110 of Every Chance After

I finally decide on a silky light pink cami with lacy edges, a cute jean skirt, white sneakers, and my fuzzy pink sweater, in case I get chilly. Casual meets sexy. I top it off with a dangly gold chain with a peony charm and little gold hoop earrings. I wear my hair down and wavy and put on a touch more makeup than usual.

I stand at the mirror by the front door and ask the cats how I look. Hershey meows, Triscuit curls around my legs, and Sunkist narrows her eyes like she’s annoyed at me for disturbing her cat nap. Even so, I take it all to mean I’m not too shabby.

I take a breath, nerves rising again. I worry this might be another ride on Grady’s guilt train, with him leaving me stranded at the end.

But it’s Grady. Thinking of how he held my hands at the pier, his lone tear over what I wrote, my heart plays an erratic beat to my thoughts, and the hope that he’s finallyseeing me. Not a victim of his mistake. Not an obligation. But ashisMarina. Because I long for him to bemyGrady.

I leave for our date, feeling giddy-hopeful and planning out my moves—an embrace at the door, for starters, with a kiss on his rough cheek. I want Grady Tripp to know that affection is allowed and encouraged. I want him to know that I’m ready for this.

For him.

For everything.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO

Grady

Openingthe door to Marina is exhilarating and devastating at once. Fucking hell, she’s stunning. Not just her everyday beautiful, either. She’s date-ready beautiful. My eyes don’t know where to land, taking her in. Glimpses of the smattering of freckles on her bare shoulder, the lovely lines of her collarbone, her brighter-than-usual smile, the way her short skirt grazes her legs, and her big, hopeful eyes gauging my reaction all beckon for more attention.

“I’m early,” she says when I don’t speak. Then, she leans in for a warm embrace—a move that happens too quickly for me to stop.

Not that I would.

She smells faintly of roses as I breathe her in, her long, wavy hair tickling my nose. My hands drift over her back—the silk of her blouse and the softness of her bare shoulders. She’s intoxicating.

“Thanks for having me over,” she whispers before kissing my cheek. She lingers in the tiny space between us, meeting my eyes with her easy smile, tempting me to kiss her.

I want to. God, Iwantto kiss her.

That’s when it hits me how badly I’ve ruined this.

After leaving her at the dock, I wandered into an elaborate, confusing labyrinth of misgivings about our date. Asking her to dinner felt as natural as the swamp around us—time alone with Marina was what I wanted. But insecurities battled my desires, convincing me that our age difference, origin story, and her deserving better mattered more and ultimately won out. So, anxious over what might happen between us, I arranged precautions to ensure the answer wasnothing—self-sabotage at its absolute finest.

Precautions I now deeply regret. She’s so excited, alluring, and goddamn hopeful. Now, I’m about to hurt her.Again.

The dogs rush up. Harley leads the charge, wagging her stubbed tail, with Hannibal and Blackbeard behind her. Marina coos and drops to her knees to greet them.

“Oh, my goodness!” she laughs, rubbing Hannibal’s uneven ears. “Grady, they’re perfect.”

“Imperfect, actually,” I note, glad for the distraction and amused at her willingness to engage them. They can be a lot all at once.

“But, see? That makes them perfect,” she laughs as three-legged Blackbeard tries to shimmy into her lap, nearly knocking her over backwards.

“Alright, guys. She’s had enough,” I say, adding a stern whistle to show I mean it. They disperse enough for me to pull her up, inadvertently bringing her close for a second time. She falls against my chest to get her balance.

“Marina, I messed up.” My breath catches on hers between us.

“Messed up?” Her brow pinches with curiosity, but we’re interrupted when the dogs go crazy over the sound of another car in my driveway.

She glances through the glass in the door. “It’s Marigold. And Gil.”

“Yeah, I know. I invited them,” I say, deciding to completely own my fuck-up. “I thought it’d be better this way.”

Confusion cuts through her smile, followed quickly by sharp disappointment. Her entire demeanor sinks, and she shifts away from me, literally taking two steps back.

“Oh, okay.” A strained smile pushes through. “Right, wouldn’t want me to get the wrong idea. Silly me. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

She’s out the door before I can argue or launch a defense. She greets Marigold with chipper enthusiasm, waving happily. “My favorite artist of all time! So glad we get to hang out. Gil, nice to see you. Looking handsome, as always.”

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