Page 67 of Holding Grace

“Morning, Grace.”

I held back a smile as she looked up at me, knowing it would only get me in trouble. She looked like a frustrated, pissed off kitten, though I was 100% certain she would see no humor whatsoever in that description.

“Why have I never mastered this?” She nodded at her egg and shell-covered hand and the bowl that contained only slightly more egg and less shell than her hand. “You do this and make it look easy. I’m an experienced cook. Why can’t I do this?”

I proceeded carefully. “My hands are a lot bigger than yours. Maybe that’s it.”

“Maybe.” Grace huffed out a breath. “I was sure I could do it but as you can see all I have is a big mess on my hands...or hand.” She shook her head in disgust. “And three wasted eggs to show for it.”

“They’re not wasted.” Not completely anyway. “What’s in the bowl can be salvaged. Why don’t you rinse your hand off and I’ll get the shells out of the bowl.”

“Fine.” Grace sighed as she flipped the water on in the sink and held her hand under it. “Could you crack a few more eggs for me? I wanted to make an egg bake for breakfast.”

I did as she asked, resisted the urge to help her dry her hand off, and stepped away to grab two mugs out of a cabinet. I poured us each a cup of coffee and took a sip of mine as I opened the fridge to get creamer for Grace’s.

“What are you in the mood for?” I perused her selection of creamers – she had four – while I waited for her answer.

“Um...Sweet Italian Cream. Thanks.”

I doctored Grace’s coffee with creamer and a little sugar, set it where she could get to it without it being in the way, then took a seat at the kitchen table, staying out of the way, myself.

“What’s your schedule for today?”

I sipped my coffee and answered Grace as I watched her add some shredded cheese and leftover chopped veggies from the day before to the eggs she’d whisked.

“Jamey and I are meeting with Jo and Ellie at eleven about possibly doing a seasonal cake flight, then I’ll be on until eight unless the crowd’s huge. How about you?”

I could get used to this. I was getting used to it...too quickly. Starting the day with Grace, ending the day with Grace, and usually texting or talking with her in between. She was addictive and I was putting up zero fight against it or her.

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TWO AND A HALF WEEKS later Grace got the green light from her physical therapist to go without the sling.

Today was her first day without it. She’d promised not to overdo it and from the phone conversation I’d had with her earlier in the day, she seemed to be holding to that.

To help celebrate, I’d offered to take Grace out to dinner. We usually split the cooking duties, which Grace had insisted on even though she’d had to be creative to cook one-handed. I would have made us something, but Grace was also working from home these days since the office was nearly right across the corner from where she’d been grabbed. Even Mercy wasn’t working from there for the time being. Grace hadn’t been cleared to drive yet, and though she hadn’t said anything, I knew she had to be going at least a little stir crazy.

I walked into the apartment and felt the now-familiar surge of satisfaction at seeing Grace sitting at the kitchen table. She was shutting down her laptop, a neat pile of folders stacked by its side.

“Hi, Michael.”

I swear her smile could stop traffic...and if I wasn’t careful, my heart.

“Hey, Grace. You have a good day? How’s your shoulder?”

She closed her laptop and set it on top of the folders, then moved the whole stack neatly to one side. “My day was good. My shoulder is a little sore, but not too bad.”

“That’s good.” I took a step in the direction of my bedroom. “I’m going to take a quick shower and change. You decide where we go for dinner.”

Grace had been debating between a local BBQ place or new all-day breakfast restaurant that had just opened to rave reviews. Both had a menu of items we didn’t feature at the pub and that neither Grace nor I typically made at home, so either would be a nice change.

Twenty minutes later we were headed out the door to Grace’s choice – the BBQ place – when her phone rang. She pulled it out of her bag and looked to see who it was.

“It’s Detective Chase.” She tapped to answer it on speaker. “Hi, this is Grace.”

“Grace, this is Detective Chase. Is this an okay time to talk for a few minutes?”

“It’s fine. I have you on speaker if that’s okay. Michael is here with me.”

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