Page 52 of Holding Grace

“Nope.” Mercy shook her hair back and headed for the kitchen. “No more story. Let’s have cake.”

Chapter 18

Grace

They’d thrown me a birthday party. No one had done that in...maybe ever. If it had ever happened, I couldn’t remember it.

They’d gotten me a cake, and balloons, and flowers, and the silly birthday crown that now sat on Michael’s back seat along with a ridiculously huge piece of the best red velvet cake I’d ever had. The balloons bobbed around in the back of the SUV, and I held the flowers on my lap.

All of that. Just for me.

All of that and a brand-new couch and chair.

Whose life was this anyway?

“You know I’ll never be able to pay you all back for everything you’ve done for me.”

I hadn’t meant to say it like that, but it was true.

Michael glanced at me, then back at the road as he drove. “Who said anything about paying anyone back? You’re not running a tab with us, Grace. No one’s keeping any kind of count. We want to do things and we’re able to. That’s that.”

Michael and the others...they were special. They weren’t the kind of people who expected something in return for every little thing. Not like Ellis and Seth.

Still, no one wanted to be on the giving end of things forever. At some point, I needed to figure out a way to even the scales at least a little bit.

When we reached my building, I held onto the flowers and climbed out carefully while Michael held my door, steadying me with his big warm hand on my arm as I stepped out. I waited while he corralled the balloons, plopped the crown on my head, and picked up the container with my cake, then he followed me inside and up to my apartment.

We set the cake and flowers on the kitchen counter, then looked around for a place to secure the balloons so they wouldn’t escape up into the high loft ceiling. After a few minutes of debate, Michael tied them to one leg of the desk, where they’d be out of the way, but I could still see and enjoy them.

Then he stood, hands in his front pockets, looking around the apartment. There was a nervous sort of energy coming off him, which wasn’t at all like him.

Feeling his nerves made mine start to jangle, too. Should I ask him to stay for a while? Or was he looking for a graceful way to exit? Why was he on edge?

Finally, I couldn’t stand the awkward silence anymore. “Thanks for the best birthday I can remember. Definitely so much better than my last few, especially.”

Michael looked at me sharply and I cringed inside. Why couldn’t you just stop with the thank you, Grace?

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