The morning coffee rush is in full swing as I sit in the back of Better Buzz with a cup of my own and work on my laptop. It’s louder and more chaotic than the office, but it makes me feel like I’m back in the city. It makes me not feel so homesick when, after last night and everything with Grayson, I am desperately so.
He may not have walked away in the fit of rage he stormed into my house with, but his silent resignation almost feels worse.
Is he still mad at me? I don’t know.
What I do know is that every part of me wanted to drive over to his house and talk to him . . . but I took a step back and told myself that he was dealing with Luke. That Luke comes first. That my showing up would only have proved to him that I think of myself first, when I’ve been fighting against that preconception since we first met.
Zoey. I miss her, and if she were here, she’d calm my crazy—her warm hugs, knowing looks, and the effortless way she seems to just get me. I miss the fresh flowers at the corner florist stand that I used to pass every day on the way to Thorton Publishing’s main office. I miss Stink, the homeless man parked on Greer and 4th who I brought some kind of food to a few days a week. I even miss my own place, with its seemingly endless supply of hot water and its pillow-loaded bed.
Funny how I didn’t realize how homesick I was until Grayson got mad at me, and how alone I was here until Rissa didn’t pick up her phone. That is probably for the better, though, since I can’t tell her about what happened.
“Sidney, is that you?”
When I look up from my laptop, I find Betsy Malone standing at the coffee doctoring station with a cautious smile on her lips.
“Hi.” We eye each other with a wariness that says we both know what this conversation is going to be about but are uncertain if we want to go there.
“May I have a minute of your time?” she asks, but before I answer, she has already crossed the short distance and is lowering herself into the empty chair across from me.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” I laugh the words out, my sudden uneasiness showing. “What can I do for you?”
She stares at her hands, which are wrapped around her paper to-go cup, and it’s a long minute before she meets my gaze. She looks nervous. Nervous, when yesterday I found her to be not only quite funny and inquisitive but also carefree and open.
“I need to apologize for a couple of things.”
“If this is about yesterday,” I say and shake my head, “you don’t need to apologize for anything.”
“Yes, I do. I told you it would be okay and that I’d take the heat for it and . . .”
“And I’m a grown woman who can make her own decisions.” I smile warmly at her. “Let me guess, he overreacted and unleashed his temper on you, too?”
Her eyes well with tears briefly before she blinks them away. “He may have overreacted . . . but I deserved it.” Her silence as she stares at the steam coming from her coffee quiets the protest on my lips. My reassurance won’t matter. It’s her son’s rebukes that will hit her the hardest. She shrugs and looks up at me. “I was curious about you. All I know is what Luke has told me and the gossip from town, but not a single word from Grayson. That in and of itself says a lot, so maybe I bypassed asking Gray if it was okay to let Luke invite you . . . maybe I told you he would be okay with it when I wasn’t one hundred percent certain. I only wanted to see if it was all true.”
“You wanted to see if I was good enough for Grayson?”
Betsy clears her throat. “That isn’t what I said.”
“You don’t have to. He’s your son. Luke’s your grandson. Just like I’m sure you’ve heard rumors about me—then and now—I’ve heard them about you.” Her lips purse and eyes narrow. “Like how fiercely protective you are of your family. How you want all your boys settled down and happy. I get it. I do . . .” But I was the one who got his wrath because of it.
“I know Grayson’s wishes for Luke come first. They always should. I overstepped, and because of it, I landed us both in hot water—irrational, overreacted, or not. I’m sorry. I . . .” The sincerity swimming in Betsy’s eyes, and the disappointment in herself over her actions, is clear as day. As much as I want to be mad at her, I can’t. She didn’t do this alone. Knowing how Grayson felt about women around Luke, I should have known better. I should have made an excuse and not gone to the picnic. Luke would have been disappointed, but at least then I would have been respecting Grayson’s wishes. “Please forgive me,” she says.
“Thank you for your apology, but like I said, it isn’t needed.”
Her shoulders heave with her sigh of relief. “Grayson was also upset about what the gossip column might print . . . I didn’t think of that when we invited you, so I called a friend and made sure that nothing about the picnic and your attendance would be reported in the upcoming gossip column.”
I hadn’t thought of that, either, or the repercussions it would have on Luke. After the last photo landed him in a fight at school, I should have considered it. I should have considered a lot of things I hadn’t. Christ, this is so much more complicated than it needs to be. So much more everything. “Thank you, Betsy. I never would have thought about that and how it would affect Luke.”
“Luke would be able to handle it just fine; it’s my son who would go through the roof,” she says and winks playfully. “I was actually on my way to your office when I saw you. I couldn’t stand thinking that you and Gray had gotten into a fight because of something I’d allowed.”
“It’s fine.”
“Okay, then,” she says as she sits up some, “I’ll let you get back to it. I’m sure you have a ton of work to do with the magazine and the contest and all that.”
I smile and nod, completely stunned by how the woman I should be mad at has kind of won me over.
This small-town air is definitely messing with my vibe.
“Have a good day,” I add.
“You, too.” Betsy takes a few steps away, and then just before I look down to my laptop, she turns back to me. “Sidney?”
“Mm-hmm?” I’m more than aware that some of the eyes in the coffee shop have turned our way.
“My son is a good man. Don’t let anything I’ve done deter you from, let’s say, taking a chance on him.”
My eyebrows lift. “Oh.”
“I mean, the fact that he’s never really mentioned you to me says more than anything. That means he wants me to steer clear and not mess things up for him. Maybe you’re the one who’ll change his mind about not wanting to take a chance on marriage and the like again.”
This time, I choke on my breath—not because of what she said but because of the sudden interest our conversation is getting. I figure I’ll swallow the shock value and use this attention to my advantage. “I’m flattered you think that, but honestly, my main focus right now is Modern Family. Besides the fact that I’m not looking for a relationship, I don’t think it’d be very fair if I were to run the contest and be involved with Grayson at the same time. That might come off a little biased to the general public.” I take a sip of coffee. “Anything you’ve read in the Gazette is plain rumor.”
“Okay.” Betsy draws the words out as I glance around at all the people who are listening but trying to make it seem as if they aren’t.
Her smile widens when she steps beside me and pats me on the shoulder as she whispers. “Good thinking. We’ll keep this our little secret. A woman knows when another woman is smitten with a man, and I can tell you’re smitten.”
The sigh of awe she gives before she walks away has me shaking my head and questioning whether I adore her more for that last statement or if I think she’s crazy.