Page 74 of Defended By Love

“When we get in there, I need you to stay close enough to let me into any locked rooms, but not so close that people will think we’re together,” I say, turning serious so that I can stop dealing with the heart eyes Grant is throwing my way.

“Right. And why’s that again?”

I pause from mentally walking through the blueprints of the building.

“Why’s what?”

“Why don’t you want people thinking we’re together?” His voice is casual, but he’s running his hand through his wild hair—a sure sign that he’s frazzled about something.

Fair enough. Before I was publicly fired, I would have had some major trepidation about double crossing my company, time loop or not. It’s a bit like stabbing your best friend in the back, only worse.

“Just I’m going in there as a corporate type and if your coworkers see us talking, they might wonder why we’re together,” I say quickly before returning to the blueprints in my mind.

“They would wonder why you’re with the janitor?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

Exactly. In order to develop a relationship with someone who works all over the building, that employee would have had to have been working there for a while, which would raise the question: why does no one recognize me?

I guess I could stick with him if I were making it clear that I was asking some logistical questions. I would just then have to be sure I’m not overtly ogling him. Not exactly my strong suit.

Even in normal, non-spandexy clothes, his body is unreal. It may be the fact that I’m in hormonal overdrive due to his unwillingness to pursue things physically until I fall for him, but he looks absolutely lickable. His biceps strain under his t-shirt. His shoulders swell with strength. His face…

His face looks sad.

It’s an alien expression on his face. One that I never even thought to imagine there. It’s as surprising as it would be to see a dog looking deeply pensive about calculus. Except that would be hilarious.

This is only heartbreaking.

That sinking elevator feeling sneaks up on me. I panic. We can’t possibly be at the reset already? It’s only the afternoon.

Then, I realize that this is different. I only feel that dropping feeling in my chest.

Grant looks sad. It hurts me as much as it worries me. Usually when my dates look upset it’s because they’re about to go through the unpleasantness of telling me that they don’t want to see me anymore.

After day(s) of spending all his time with me, has Grant reached that point? Am I about to have yet another conversation about how he’s not ready for a relationship right now because his houseplants require a lot of his attention?

Fucking ficuses.

That sinking feeling ebbs into an all-over dread.

“Are you okay?” I should be asking Grant that, but, instead, he’s asking me.

I laugh.

“I wasn’t joking,” Grant says, like he’s not the king of misinterpreting serious comments.

The seriousness on his face is another alien expression. This one, though, I like. He’s serious about being worried about me. This man has done karaoke with me, fought (fictional) trolls with me, got pepper sprayed while in a werewolf costume with me, got arrested at the opera with me, and so much more. Maybe it’s time that I start to accept the fact that he’s with me.

Maybe it’s time to take a leap, to get invested, to take a risk.

Dr. Debbie’s Guide to Understanding Relationships says that an integral part of relationships is being considerate of the other person’s feelings. As much as I want to have Grant on hand in case something goes wrong, I even more so don’t want him to feel uncomfortable.

If he feels nervous about double-crossing his work, I won’t make him do it.

“You could just wait outside,” I offer.

Grant looks at me and then off into the ocean. The salty breeze blows his hair off his face. He looks so beautiful and so sad that he could be in one of those artsy perfume commercials.

“So you won’t be seen with me? The janitor.”

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