Page 65 of His Build

“I love you too, Lucy Fulham.”

Epilogue

The Jones job barbecue didn’t start for another half hour, but Graydon’s deck was already occupied by a small crew of early birds. Lucy, Sadie, Graydon, Chris, Casey and Sam were spread out prepping for the main event, which this time was set to have around two dozen people.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Lucy said, her elbows brushing Graydon’s as they laid out the cutlery and big aluminum trays of fried chicken, roast corn, and salad on the table.

It had been a rough few weeks getting Alfred’s lake house to the finish line. After the delay she’d caused by quitting… and then unquitting—easily the most dramatic thing she’d ever done in her life—and a tough thing to explain to Alfred, though he’d been surprisingly understanding about it, she’d had to scramble to everything in place to finish on schedule. They’d only just finished painting yesterday, and had spent the day moving the furniture in after getting their final walk-through with Barkley Falls’ building inspector last night. Luckily, Sadie and Chris had been roped into helping, so the job wrapped up only a couple of hours before everyone was supposed to be at Gray’s place.

“It’s my fault we were so rushed at the end. If only I’d have stuck to the plan,” she said, laying the cutlery down and fussing with it on the tablecloth. “Spontaneity isn’t my strong suit, as you know.”

“And yet the first time you tried it you got us to here,” Graydon said.

She looked up to see him grinning at her. Then his face went serious, his slate gray eyes turning almost liquid.

Lucy’s stomach did a little flip.

Graydon gently took the serving spoon she’d been holding from her hand and tossed it on the table. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in against his broad chest. “Did you ever stop to think maybe it happened the way it was supposed to? That you needed to see what happened when you didn’t plan your whole damn life out?”

And you got to feel me leaving you, just like your family left?

Lucy’s stomach heaved with the residual guilt at what her freak-out had done to him.

He dipped his head down and brought his lips to her. “You came back,” he whispered. “That’s what matters.” Then he cupped her face. Before he could lean down to kiss her Lucy stepped up on her toes and brought her lips to his. He caught her up in his arms as he kissed her, laughing.

It had been six weeks since she’d kissed him in his truck outside the motel, and it still felt like the first time. Electricity still buzzed down her center, warming the very core of her. His fingers twined through her hair.

“Ewww!”

Graydon pulled away from Lucy. She had to fight to stop the gasp the shock of separating brought.

Sam stood next to them, his hands wrapped around his throat, tongue lolling out. Gagging noises emanated from his little body.

“Get over here, you little—” Graydon began, letting go of Lucy. Sam squealed as his uncle chased him around the deck. Casey, coming over to the other side of the table with a stack of sausages still in their packages ready for the grill, shrieked when her son grabbed onto her skirt, nearly dropping her load.

“Settle down, you two!” she called, laughing, even as she watched with unfettered adoration at the two of them playing.

“Do you need a hand with those?” Lucy asked, having assigned each food tray a utensil.

Casey turned her gaze on Lucy. “Thanks, love. I’m good. Has she called back yet?”

Typical Casey—getting right to the point.

Lucy shook her head. “Not yet.” She pulled out her phone to check for the hundredth time, her stomach sinking when nothing appeared but the time and date. A few nights ago, at Casey’s farm for dinner, she’d asked Graydon to take Sam outside to play catch after they’d eaten. Then she’d asked Casey what it had been like being a single mom, on her own with a little kid and not a lot to her name.

Calling her mom was her own idea, but Casey had talked her down more than once when she’d made excuses as to why it still wasn’t a good time. Sadie, too, had helped by guessing some of the things their mother might say that would trigger Lucy, make her get angry and hang up again.

But when she’d finally gotten up the nerve, her mom hadn’t answered. And now here she was a full twenty-four hours later and there was no indication she’d called back.

It was the only thing keeping her from complete joy tonight.

She looked over at Graydon, who had somehow ended up sprawled on his back on the outdoor sofa, Sam crawling on him, laughing hysterically.

He shoved Sam to the side and lifted his head up for half a second. “Help me!” he called to her.

“Not a chance,” she said, laughing.

Lucy was happy, she reminded herself. Genuinely happy. And her mother disappointing her again couldn’t mar that.

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