The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,95
love you. And, um … will you go to this stupid dance with me?”
It is this exact moment that I realize that there’s ice cream and hot fudge oozing down my boobs, and I’m still holding the wad of napkins with ketchup squirted all over them. “Crap.”
Ashton is laugh-coughing into her fist. “That was brilliantly awful.”
Grant smiles his beautiful heart-stopping smile and begins walking in my direction. Carefully this time, I ease off the counter and end up in the middle of a sea of children screaming for their ice cream and hot dogs. I remember to drop the napkins on the counter before I step toward him, biting my lip nervously.
“You are a mess,” he notes in amusement, eyeing half the concession stand smeared all over me. He smiles. And I forget to breathe. “I love you too. And I’d be honored to go to this stupid dance with you.” He leans down and squeezes me tight, lifting me off my feet. “I’ve missed you so much, Sweets,” he murmurs in my ear, then kisses my neck.
When he sets me down, a few people are clapping … which is weird.
“Ah, you must be Lana,” a woman says behind Grant.
He steps aside, an arm still around my shoulders, fudge now smudged on his white tank top. “Oh, um, yeah. Lana, this is my mom. And that’s my dad and my brother, Garrett.”
I can’t speak.
And now that this picture-perfect blond family is in front of me, the resemblance is obnoxiously obvious.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Mr. Philips says warmly. “That was quite the declaration you gave there.”
“Uh, thanks,” I reply awkwardly.
“Your girlfriend’s lovely,” Mrs. Philips says to Grant, forcing a smile.
“Not mine,” Grant rebuts.
She looks shocked by the correction. “I thought—”
“I don’t belong to anyone,” I clarify carefully. “I’m in love with your son, but we’re not an us.”
She appears baffled. And maybe a little offended.
I glance at Grant, battling with how to explain so they get it. He nods encouragingly.
I take a breath and say, “We coexist in symbiotic unity.” I cringe, thinking I just made it worse.
His mother nods in sudden understanding. “Oh. You know Squirrel.”
His father smiles wide. “I like that boy. Is he working today?” Mr. Philips scans the area.
“How’s it flowin’, Mr. P?!” Squirrel bellows from behind The Grille counter, where he’s leaning on his elbows, watching the spectacle beside an amused Ashton and enthralled Kaely.
Mr. Philips waves at him.
I press my lips into a smile. “Yeah. He’s very wise.”
Grant chuckles, taking hold of my hand and giving it a squeeze.
Garrett tugs on Grant, so he’ll lean over. “She’s pretty cool.”
Grant whispers in return, “Yeah, I like her.”
“No, you looove her,” he mocks in a singsongy voice.
I grin, but it feels more like a grimace. Can this be over now? Grant chuckles, rubbing the top of his little brother’s head before he swats his hand away.
“You’ll have to come skiing with us when we’re back this winter,” Mr. Philips insists, urging his youngest son forward before any more unfiltered kid-honesty can spew from his mouth.
“I’ll be right there,” Grant tells them and then faces me.
I thump my forehead against his chest. “They think I’m so weird.”
His chest shakes with his laughter. “Maybe. Because you are.”
I gawk at him in mortified horror. He laughs, the sound deep and boisterous. My favorite sound.
“But you’re also passionate. And unexpected. And perfect … for me. So they’ll love you, like I do. Don’t worry.”
He leans down and kisses me gently. I grip the fabric of his tank top, keeping us connected.
A throat clears. Grant straightens as if scalded.
Cary is standing in front of The Grille counter. “I thought we had an understanding.”
I produce an overly fake and toothy grin. “Cary. Hey. Sorry about that. But it was … an emergency.”
He narrows his eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “How do you qualify that as an emergency?”
“She couldn’t breathe,” Grant interjects, which is kinda the truth. “And I’m certified in CPR. I needed to make sure she was okay. You know, confirm her heart was beating. Cheeks flushed. Lips—” He’s describing me exactly.
“Okay. Okay. That’s enough.” Cary holds up his hands to stop him. “She looks very healthy. Thank you, Grant. Now go clock out. Your parents are waiting to say goodbye.”
“Text me? I need to see you tonight.” Grant squeezes my hand before he takes off for the Club.
“And you, feed these spoiled—I mean, darling children,” Cary beckons from behind me while I watch Grant disappear.