Page 63 of I Love a Good Challenge

Graham is all elegance and confidence, the perfect combination of intensity meeting restrained passion . . . except when he happens to let out that passion with me. It’s no mystery why Birch Borough has been slowly falling in love with him—why I’m in love with him. I don’t know how I ever managed to stay away from him for this long.

If I had known all it would take for me to finally recognize what my heart desires was to fall ill and allow him to take care of me, I would’ve hung out with the kids in town more often. Distributing residual Easter bunnies to the germ-infested daycare the other day is most likely where I caught the bug.

The congestion in my head and the urge to cough remind me that I’m still sick. As I shift a bit on the couch cushion, I realize how much my bones and joints are protesting from a day of being sick. It’s unfortunate to be stuck inside since we’re knee-deep in late spring, and the weather is lovely.

I feel my latent aggression looming as I contemplate what comes next. Just because I know I can love Graham again doesn’t take that part of me away. If anything, I’m more determined to use the angst deep within me to finally fight for the good things. For the right things. To fight for him.

My uncomfortable movements alert him that I’m awake. He sits up, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes and yawning in a way that I shouldn’t find as adorable as I do.

“Sorry, honey,” he says in a sleepy voice. His piercing eyes meet mine in the inky light. “Do you need anything? How do you feel?”

Lord, help me. I am melting.

His hand moves across my shin, gently giving it a press. He seems unable to keep himself from showering me with affection now that we have a new memory of words spoken between us that are for our good and not our demise. I grin even as shyness creeps in and causes more of a blush to creep into my cheeks than usual.

“I feel like a train ran over me and then decided it was going the wrong direction and ran over me again,” I say in reply to his question.

He doesn’t flinch at my response. “I’ll get the pain reliever.”

Before he’s able to move, his phone rings. I nod for him to get it and reach behind me to switch on the lamp. The sudden flood of light causes me to wince.

“Hey, Mom,” Graham says as a smile breaks across his face.

“Hey, S’mores,” she replies.

In a panicked rush, Graham tries to take it off speakerphone, but he isn’t fast enough. He’s so going to pay for this.

“S’mores,” I whisper with a giddy surge.

“You’re on speakerphone, Mom,” he says with a tight voice, his cheeks turning a delicious shade of pink.

“I’m so sorry, S’m—I mean to say, Graham.” Her voice is so kind and warm that it triggers a sense of homesickness within me immediately.

“When I was a kid,” Graham starts to explain the nickname in a quiet tone, the edge of his face shifting in my direction, “I loved s’mores so much that my mom thought her term of endearment was amusing since my name is paired with the crackers they’re eaten on.”

“He was all sweetness and melted chocolate,” his mom says affectionately from the speaker.

I watch with delight as he hangs his head in defeat, a fresh rush of redness creeping down his neck. I’ve never seen him so embarrassed, and it’s doing weird things to my head and my stomach. Must be the sickness. Still, I can’t help but let out a delighted little laugh. His admission gives me so much ammunition.

“Who’s with you, love?”

“Oh, my . . .” His eyes widen as he searches my face. “Um. Just a . . . someone special.” He gives the slightest shake of his head, clearly frustrated to be caught off guard.

I know that his mom definitely knows who I am and how he feels—or rather felt—about me.

“Someone special? Graham David Winnings.”

Silently, I mouth his full name and start to ponder where I want to tattoo his name on some weird part of my body just to embarrass him even more.

“I’m with Lily, Mom,” he states with more assurance this time.

I twirl the end of my unkempt ponytail between my hands. Her reply is swift.

“Lily. The Lily?”

The way Graham stares at me makes me at an uncommon loss for words. I open my mouth to reply but can’t seem to speak. He switches it off speakerphone and gives me a slight nod before standing and pacing beside the couch.

“So, Mom, are you okay? What’s going on? You’re off speakerphone, by the way.”

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