Page 94 of Fake It Till We Fall
“But you manipulated me.” I shook my head, still unable to fully comprehend what she’d done.
“I just gave you a little push in the right direction, that’s all.” She fluttered her lashes at me with such exaggerated innocence that I had to laugh.
“See?” she said when she noticed me laughing. “You can’t even pretend you’re not grateful.”
I shook my head. “Okay, okay. I guess I am grateful,” I conceded. “I guess.” I swallowed hard. “You’re impossible.”
“That’s nothing new.” She set her mug down and reached for my hand. Her touch was warm and steady against mine. “You found your way home, Harper. That’s all I ever wanted for you.”
I squeezed her fingers, my chest aching in that good, overwhelming way. She was impossible, it was true. But she was also right.
I was home.
And I didn’t plan to leave anytime soon.
Grayson
As it didfor many people, the first day of a new year had always felt like a fresh start for me. A blank slate. But this time, walking through the plaza on the morning of a brand-new year, full of potential and opportunity, the future felt brighter than ever.
There were still so many questions and unknowns about what was going to happen, but the one thing I knew for sure wasthat I loved Harper and she loved me. As long as I had her, I had everything. All the rest of it would be figured out with time.
The other thing I knew was that I was done waiting around for life to happen to me instead of making things happen for myself. That strategy had almost cost me the love of my life, again. No more.
New year. New me.
Or something like that.
The plaza always looked different the morning after a big celebration, but the distinction was particularly noticeable the day after New Year’s. With all the people gone, it felt extra quiet. Decorations dropped, strings of lights tangled in piles waiting to be boxed up for another year—so much for putting them away neater this year. I shook my head with a smile, knowing I’d be the one to untangle them in less than a year.
A handful of cleanup volunteers worked in the frosty morning to dismantle the stage and put everything away until the next celebration that Tilley was no doubt already cooking up.
My boots crunched over the frost and ice as I walked through it all, more determined than I’d felt in weeks.
I spotted Ollie on a bench outside the Bean Bag, just as I knew I would. He was a man of routine. Which was why I also knew that was a paper bag of cinnamon twists that sat beside him, and in his hand, the steam that was rising from the cup contained his other morning indulgence. Coffee, two sugars and two creams.
Don’t tell Doris, his wife of almost fifty years.
“Morning, Ollie.”
He looked up and nodded when he saw me. “Happy New Year, Grayson.”
“Got a minute?” I skipped the pleasantries. It was long past time I got down to business.
“You know I do.” He picked up the bag and scooted over on the bench to make room for me, but I remained standing.
“Have you signed the papers with Homeworks yet?” I got right to the point.
His face flickered with a moment of confusion before he shook his head. “Not yet,” he said.
Two words that gave me a flash of hope.
“Why are you asking?” His eyes narrowed, crinkling even deeper around the edges.
“Sell it to me,” I said before I could talk myself out of it again.
He lifted his brows, but he didn’t look as surprised as I would have expected. “I didn’t know you were interested,” he said after a moment.
“I was. I am.” I took a beat and inhaled slowly. “I waited too long to tell you, and then there was never a right time, and when you told me that Homeworks had made you an offer, well, I knew I couldn’t compete, so I just…it doesn’t matter.” I shook my head clear. “What matters is I’m telling you now. I’d like to buy the hardware store, Ollie. Don’t count me out. Please.”
