Page 107 of What Are The Odds?
Serena was watching us with interest. Her red painted lips narrowed into a thin line.
“Serena this is Grace. My girlfriend.”
I wouldn’t tire of saying that. Serena’s eyes widened. She looked Grace up and down.
“I never thought Levi Holloway would be capable of uttering the world girlfriend.”
Grace tensed. “How do you know, Levi?”
Serena rested one hand on her popped hip. “I guess I was as close to a girlfriend as Levi got in high school,” Serena answered, digging my grave deeper. She lowered her voice to a mischievous whisper. “I was his first.”
“Huh,” Grace quipped. “I didn't know that.”
Serena waved her hand dismissively. “How could you? You weren’t around then.” She winked at me. “Or last Christmas I hope.”
Fuck me. Bringing Grace to Colorado was a mistake. If it wasn’t my parents, it was Serena. Could everyone here stop trying to scare my girlfriend off?
“Well I’m around now,” Grace stated simply.
Serena’s made-up face fell. Grace took my hand and began pulling me away.
“It was great meeting you, Serena.”
Only someone who knew Grace well would know she didn’t mean that. Not in the slightest. My lips stretched into a grin as I followed her. I loved that she’d just staked her claim. She kept moving through the party until we were breaking out of the crowd and onto AJ’s patio. It was a similar set up to mine. He had the fire going, and there was a handful of people in the hot tub.
Grace laughed drily. “No exes, huh?”
“I’m sorry. Serena was. . .” I trailed off, unable to think of the right words.
“Relax, Holloway. I don’t have the energy to get bothered by every girl you have history with.”
I jarred back. “Ouch.” I placed my hand on Grace’s face, rubbing my thumb along her cheek. “Are we good, Hughesy?”
“Mmhm.”
I studied her. Her cheeks were flushed, probably from the warm dance floor and alcohol. And her eyes were glazy, but I don’t think alcohol was fully to blame. Something was up.
“Level with me, Grace. What’s wrong?”
She hesitated, pulling her lip between her teeth. I stayed silent whilst she willed the courage.
“I overheard you talking to your dad.”
I frowned, trying to think back on my conversations with dad. Then realisation hit. Shit. I interlaced both my hands with Grace’s and tugged her closer.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
Grace had seemed fine at Thanksgiving dinner yesterday. And again all day today. Or maybe she hadn’t and I’d missed the signs.
“Because I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.
“Okay.” The word came out like a question. “Why are you bringing it up now then?”
She shrugged. “Because I’m drunk.”
Which was reason tonothave this conversation. It sure as shit was long overdue. But not when alcohol was clouding her judgement. And when she likely wouldn’t remember all of it.
“We don’t have to talk about it now,” I said, pulling Grace against my chest and resting my jaw atop of her head. “Soon, yes. But not tonight.”
