quiet of the front seat, she wondered when her heart would stop hurting. If ever. Not able to imagine that day, Grace grabbed her stuff and got out of her car. With the newly inherited master key, she let herself in and put her purse, cell phone, and sweatshirt on the round table in the center of the foyer.
Grace closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, comforted that the house still smelled the same—like lemon furniture polish and the woodsy musk of her grandfather’s aftershave. It smelled like home. The beat of every memory from inside the house pulsed about her in time with her own beating heart.
Unbelievable sadness brought her to her knees. Desperation kept her there. She would give anything to hear his voice again, to be able to tell him how much she loved him, and what he’d meant to her.
After crying herself breathless and creating snot past the point of being able to inconspicuously wipe it away with her sleeve, she pushed herself to her feet in search of a tissue. Tears dried, snot wiped, she remembered the text she’d received in Emily’s driveway.
Mom: What time are you coming home?
With a heavy sigh, she was thankful she’d turned right on Montgomery. Her mother was the last person she would turn to for comfort. Not that her mother would give it. Grace was vulnerable and couldn’t deal with the emotional distance her mother had kept between them most of her life.
What Grace truly needed was someone who understood, someone who could offer a little empathy. From the text app, she switched to the phone app with a swipe of her thumb, and thanked her lucky stars she had taken the time to add his contact information.
“This is Quentin.”
“Hi, Quentin, it’s Grace,” she said. “I’m sorry to bother you, I—” A very unwelcome sob stuck her words to the back of her throat.
“Uh, Grace. Are you alright?” he asked, in a tone that actually sounded genuine. And sincerity was exactly what she was looking for.
“I’m fine.” She sniffed noisily. Lovely, she thought. That’s attractive. “I just—”
“Where are you?”
“My grandfather’s.” She nearly choked on the words.
“Can I come over?”
“You don’t have to. I just didn’t know who else to call.”
“When was the last time you’ve eaten?”
She didn’t expect the question. “Uh, I ate pancakes about six thirty this morning.” Snork. How embarrassing.
“How about I grab us some lunch? We can eat and talk, or you can talk and I’ll listen.”
She didn’t expect him to drop everything to run on over and console her, but at the same time, she didn’t want to be alone. The only answer? Concede.
Her shoulders rolled forward as she released a large breath. “Okay,” she said.
“Alright. I’ll see you shortly.”
“Thanks, Quentin.”
Good-byes ended the call and had Grace running to the bathroom. Her eyes were already puffy and red-rimmed, and her nose was slightly swollen and chafed from blowing and rubbing the past several days. “It doesn’t really matter,” she told her reflection. “You looked worse yesterday.”
Grace blew her nose again, then made her way to the family room, flipping the switch to the gas fireplace. The warmth of the fire called to her as she kicked off her flats and settled among the overstuffed pillows she grabbed from the couch. She sat staring into the flames as she waited, their flickering dance almost mesmerizing. Her body began to relax, and she leaned her head back.
A firm knock against the front door woke her from her slumber. For a second, she forgot where she was. She sat up and shook her head in confusion, willing the fog to clear. On bare feet, she rushed to the door and peeked through the peephole.
On the other side, she saw the distorted image of a huge bag of Chinese takeout and Puffs Plus, completely hiding the man behind them. He’s a saint, she thought, as she opened the door and gratefully accepted the tissue box Quentin held out with a knowing grin. And still insanely good-looking. Good God!
A smile played at the corners of his mouth, touching the depths of his steel-gray eyes. He made a big display of the takeout. “Where do you want this?”
“Probably the kitchen. Unless you want to just pass the boxes back and forth until we’re full?”
“Funny.” Gently, he brushed past her and walked to the kitchen, straight for the cabinets and drawers that held the plates and silverware, grabbing what they needed.
“You obviously know your way around this kitchen,” she observed.
“That I do.” He