Page 102 of Born to Make You Smile

“That’s all it was?” he asked.

“Yup. I took care of it.”

“Grace,” he said, his tone firm. “If you ever need help, you’d tell me, right?”

“Yes,” I maintained, glancing at him.

He frowned. “Because I never want you to struggle.”

If I told him about my money woes, he’d want to help. Rush in like a knight in shining armor, treating me like a helpless damsel in distress. Then he’d be offended when I turned his monetary assistance down.

“I’m a big girl.” I forced a smile. “I can take care of myself. You don’t have to worry about me. You have enough things to worry about.”

“But Idoworry about you. And I was doing some thinking today. Perhaps you could move in with us. For good. You can sell the house. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about the mortgage or all those bloody repairs anymore.”

My throat grew thick, and I became lightheaded. The mere thought of selling the house broke me inside. “I’m sorry, I can’t…”

“Are you planning on living in that home forever?” His brow pinched.

I shook my head. “I have no idea. Maybe. I don’t know how to part with it. It’s all I have left of my mom.”

“Believe me, I know what it’s like to grip tight to memories and be fearful of letting go. But you can’t hold on every single one of those physical things forever. At some point, you have to move on. Especially when you can’t keep up with the bills, and the situation is getting out of hand.”

“It wasone payment,” I corrected, sternly. My blood was lava through my veins. “Nothingis out of hand.”

I stormed out of the treatment room, breathing to calm myself. This whole conversation was making my stomach tighten and twist. I was becoming heated and defensive, and all I wanted to do was run away from it and hide.

I headed into the break room and braced my hands on the linoleum counter, fusing my eyes shut with deep, controlled breaths.

“Grace,” he said. “Please. Look at me.”

Inhaling a deep breath, I turned to face him.

He put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m only trying to help. You know that, right?”

“I know. I’m sorry,” I said with a sigh, retrieving my coat from the closet. “Believe me when I say I can handle this, okay?”

I blinked away the prickle of tears.

He sighed. “Fair enough. I understand.”

I could feel the chasm growing between us. He only wanted to help me. Why was I holding on so tightly and being so stubborn? I knew deep down, I trusted Gavin, but the voices in my head were deafening. I could hear Mom scolding me for making myself so vulnerable to this man. He was already in charge of my income. I couldn’t allow him to take over my living situation and my finances on top of everything.

I couldn’t let him control my life.

***

The end of the month came fast, and before I knew it, my final day at X-PLORE had arrived.

“Did you want to come in?” I asked Gavin after he parked on the street. “They have this ’70’s themed club you’d love. Studio 69.”

“Studio 69,” he repeated. “Clever name.”

“I’m working the bar there tonight. I get to make all these old-school drinks—Tom Collins, Stinger, Grasshopper, Brandy Alexander, and my favorite, Pink Lady.”

He nodded, silent.

“You’ll just have to fill out a few forms. But, because you know me, it should be quick. The disco music is amazing. All your favorites. There’s even topless dancing.” I winked, then added, “Not me of course. Mostly the guests. So did you want to come? Just for a bit?”

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