Page 85 of The Play

“You have to tell me how you got from smoothing over a fight to waking up with Deacon in your bed.” She paused. “Bed? Or kitchen? Please tell me you were going to go at it in this kitchen. On the counter? On the floor?”

“In my bed,” Grant said with an attempt at dignity.

“Ah, okay. So you did make it to the bed, then.”

“We did.” Grant took a long drink of coffee. Knowing he was already going to need another one, before they left. “So Cheryl called, huh?”

“She wants a meeting this morning. I fit her in between Frankfurt and Singapore,” Darcy said. “I’m assuming also that we won’t be sharing any other developments other than downplaying the Pirate’s Booty fight and then an abject denial of this email situation?”

Grant finished his coffee. Because his day hadn’t been busy enough—or shitty enough—without adding Cheryl to the mix. “You would be correct.”

“Ah okay. So I did not arrive at your penthouse this morning to see you kissing Deacon Harris, then.”

“It’s my personal business. And when that email was sent—I certainly wasn’t kissing Deacon Harris then. I can plausibly deny that, no lies required,” Grant said.

Sure, okay, he hadn’t really thought this through last night. Deacon had told him he loved him, and his thinking brain had just died, a little. But with two shots of espresso under his belt this morning and no Deacon currently in the vicinity, it was easier to think more clearly.

“Are you going to tell me how you ended up kissing Deacon? Again, I guess?” Darcy asked.

Grant headed back over to the coffee machine. Another double latte and a hot shower and he should be pretty much functional for this crazy long day, despite the three or four hours of sleep he’d gotten.

He’d done a lot more on a lot less.

And never for such a damn good reason.

Grant mentally debated. Darcy was his best friend. He knew he could trust her, completely. But was even including one more person in the magical love bubble they’d created enough to puncture it? To allow real life to come rushing in, way too fast?

But also . . .Darcy was his best friend.

“He told me he loved me,” Grant said shyly, turning around and seeing Darcy’s face light with joy.

“Oh, honey,” she said and in a second she was across the kitchen, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Yeah?” Grant’s voice cracked. He was so happy for him. “Yeah.”

“We’re gonna make sure you can keep this, keep him,” Darcy said in a no-nonsense voice as she pulled back. “Promise me you’re not going to give him up, not when he makes you this happy. No matter what happens. How hard it gets.”

Grant considered this for a moment. He knew Darcy and so he knew a promise made to her wasn’t one either of them took lightly. He would have to mean whatever he said, or else she’d make his life a living hell afterwards.

“Yes, I promise,” Grant said. Realized, that yes, he’d already made that vow to himself. He wouldn’t have ever crossed the line with Deacon if he hadn’t been very, very sure that this was it. This was the happiness he’d been searching for his whole goddamn life. Professionally, he’d done more than he’d ever dreamed. But he’d always been alone.

Not anymore.

“Good,” Darcy said, nodding approvingly.

“Was Cheryl frothing at the mouth?” Grant said.

“She sure wasn’t happy. In fact, she made a lot of disappointed noises.”

“I’m sure she’s very disappointed,” Grant retorted.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Darcy said.

Grant chuckled darkly. “Oh, like she gets to you?”

Darcy rolled her eyes.

“I mean it,” Grant said. “We’ll get through this.”

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