Page 78 of Letters of Faith
I smirk and turn my head, calling Avery’s name until she appears in the doorway.
“Yes?” she asks.
“Would you like to open your present from me now?”
Bouncing up and down on her toes, she squeals and rushes towards me. I pick her up and sit her in front of the counter.
Pulling a small box out of my pocket, I hold it and look at Brooks before offering it to Avery. As she rips into the paper, I say, “Now this is a gift—no takebacks.”
The same wariness I felt earlier creeps into Brooks’s eyes, and I can’t lie—that look causes pure satisfaction to course through my veins.
Avery tears through the wrapping paper and then the box, and eventhough I prep myself for it, I’m not ready for the squeal she lets loose, piercing my ear drum when she sees her gift.
“Thank you, Uncle Grayson. Thank you.”
“What did you get?” Brooks asks his daughter.
She turns her present towards her mom and dad and, with a look of pure delight, says, “Tattoos.”
There’s a stack of temporary tattoos in her hand that are a replica of every tattoo I have. The one on top is my favorite, though. It’s the orchid I have on my wrist.
“Yeah, Uncle Grayson. Thanks a lot,” Brooks says dryly.
I pretend not to notice his sarcasm as I say, “You’re welcome.”
Avery takes off to show her friends, and Brooks stays behind with me. I wait for him to chastise me, but he just rolls his eyes and stays silent. My form of punishment comes in a different way, though.
“Have you talked to Georgia?” Emryn asks, sending a dagger straight to my heart at the mention of her name.
Shaking my head, I remain silent, refusing to engage, but I’m learning that my sister-in-law doesn’t back down easily.
“Why not?” she asks. “Brooks helped you find the letter, right? That was the plan: find the letter and show Georgia. So why haven’t you shown her?”
Narrowing my eyes, I look at Brooks and say, “Your wife should have been a lawyer.” Then I turn my attention back to Emryn to answer her question. “She asked me to give her some time, and that’s what I’m doing. She has to come to me this time because she needs to know she’s strong. I want her to make the decisions that are best for her because she knows they are—not because I’ve pressed her into making them. And that’s what I did when I didn’t tell her about my letter before I agreed to help her with hers.”
Emryn nods and chews on her lip, looking suspicious, but she turns her back to me before I can examine it further. I’m about to ask herwhat that look means when the doorbell rings.
“Brooks, I need you to help me with the cake. Grayson, can you grab the door, please?”
“But I—” Brooks starts, but Emryn turns her head and sends him a withering glare, so he closes his mouth and nods.
Suspicion prickles up my neck, but I don’t question it. Spinning out of the kitchen, I walk to the front door—my heart racing a mile a minute.
Through the glass, I catch a glimpse of raven hair, and the racing stops, slowing until I can count each beat.
Wrapping my hand around the knob, I wrench open the door.
“Hi, Grayson,” Georgia whispers, and I feel that greeting all the way to my toes.
My girl has finally come back to me.
______________________
“Can we talk?” Georgia asks, jerking her head towards the steps on the front porch.
“Of course,” I say, a mix of joy and trepidation running through me as I step outside and follow her to the steps.
This past week without her has been miserable. Having her beside me now is like stepping into the sunlight for the first time after a long winter. She’s my sunlight—the part of me that makes every good piece of my life brighter.
