Page 77 of The Arrangement

I forced a smile as I signed my name. "Can I go ahead and pay for my grandma's care today?" I asked as I passed her the clipboard and the new debit card that I used specifically for my side job.

Abbey grinned. "Yeah, of course! How much do you want to pay today?"

I looked around, suddenly afraid to be overheard, as I replied, "All of it, until next January."

Abbey's fingers paused over the keyboard, her eyebrows raising. She knew more than anyone how much I was struggling to pay for her care. She was one of my advocates in the financial center and had set me up on a payment plan more than once.

Smiling, I leaned on the counter, trying to come off as nonchalant. "An uncle came through for me. Wanted to help." Shrugging, I rolled my eyes, hoping that I looked convincing. "Guilt is a powerful motivator sometimes."

Abbey looked somewhat pacified as she grinned, "Don't I know it? It's insane how people will spend a fortune on the care of the sick when they weren't ever in their life when they were healthy. Just satisfies the guilt, I think." She paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "I think people just assume they have all the time in the world, and before they know it, it's over. And it all kind of comes rushing back to them, the missed calls, the times when they should have hugged. That last fight."

I nodded, unable to respond as the tears threatened to make a reappearance. Not speaking, I held my breath as Abbey typed in my card number. Realistically, I knew the funds were there. I had checked them that morning, and there it had been, the five-digit amount filled with more zeros than I had seen in my own account in…well, ever.

I heard the hum of a printer as Abbey smiled and handed me back my bank card. "All taken care of. Good job, I know it's been hard."

For the first time in days, my smile wasn't forced. "Thanks, Abbey, really." When I got to my grandmother's suite, I felt lighter than I had in months; like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders, like I could breathe.

I knocked, waiting for my grandmother's trademark "Oh, just come in already," and entered with a grin on my face.

"Well, good morning!" she exclaimed; it was earlier, but she looked as though she had been up for hours, a puzzle already half completed on the dining room table and the soft droning of an audiobook filingthe cozy space. Grandma was smiling at me before her lips formed a tight line, and her eyes narrowed as she pushed herself out of the chair. Before I knew what was happening, she had crossed the distance between us and wrapped her arms around me; I immediately fell into her embrace, the smell of cinnamon and apples enveloping me.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, her voice soft and comforting as I exploded into sobs. I couldn't help it any longer. I never could around her; my grandmother knew everything about me and always had a sixth sense when something was wrong. I could never hide anything from her.

"I messed up. I messed up so badly," I wept, pulling away as I realized I was soaking her cardigan with my tears. My grandmother guided me to the sofa, where she sat down next to me, never letting go of my hands.

She didn't say anything, and she never needed to. My grandmother had the aura of a healer, that maternal instinct that seemed to radiate calm and protection. It wasn't long until I was spilling my secrets, laying my broken heart out in front of me.

"I let him go. I didn't want to, but I couldn't. I just couldn't," I hiccuped as I dug my heels into my eyes, bidding the tears to cease as sobs wracked my body. "It was just too much, grandma."

An aged hand took mine, rubbing small circles into the back of my trembling hand. "What was too much?"

Choking back another cry, I pressed my palm to my chest as if the gesture could somehow relay the bubbling emotions rising from me.

"I thought it would be better if I pretended it didn't happen," I spilled, not really answering her question. "But it hurts so bad, I feel like I'm dying, and it makes no sense. Nothing makes sense. I've never felt like this before. It's terrible, and it won't go away."

My grandmother took a deep sigh, her eyes sad and understanding. "Who's the boy, Georgia?"

I choked out a laugh, shaking my head and pressing back my hair from my eyes."I shouldn't, Grandma, it's not a good idea. It could go so wrong."

My grandmother tsked and shook her head, "Georgia, relationshipscould always go wrong. But denying them before they even have a chance to prove themselves? My girl, what kind of life is that?"

Wiping my nose on the sleeve of my shirt, I shrugged. "A safe one." I felt her fingers on my hair, smoothing down the frizzed ends that had escaped my hasty braid.

"You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders," she murmured, her voice sad. "You have always cared for everyone else around you, even me, as much as I tried to make sure that never happened." My grandmother raised a finger as I opened my mouth to protest. "It's true. And if you found someone to help take some of that burden off? To love you? It's worth everything, Georgia."

She had a far-off look in her eyes as she smiled softly. "Your grandfather and I hated each other at first; he was such a show-off. Taller than anyone else at school and a jock, such an ego on that one." A sad look passed over her as I watched her, deep in the past, as she spoke. "But when my father died, I wasn't at school for a few days, which was very unlike me. He showed up in his flashy red car and knocked at my door, offering me a ride to school. I don't think I left his side after that."

I glanced down at the hand that was still grasping mine, seeing the simple gold wedding band with a small diamond affixed in the center. The wedding ring she never took off, and under the thick cardigan, I knew she wore my grandfather's wedding ring on a simple gold chain. When I asked why she wore it when I was younger, she would just pat the space on her chest where it lay and say, "To keep him close to my heart."

Even when I had grown up, met Dylan, and lived with him, I couldn't understand the love that passed between my grandmother and grandfather. Sure, I’d loved Dylan. He was a good person, soft and sweet. Reliable. But that was it, and there was no fire. Not even in the beginning. It was safe, love, but in the end, safe hadn't been enough for either of us. Love like my grandparents had shared was one of those once in a lifetime things, an exception not a rule.

Sebastian didn't feel safe at first. He felt dangerous, like touching fire. I had to draw back before I got burned. But as I got to know him, really know him, he didn't feel dangerous anymore. He wasn’t fire, hewas warmth. It was like peeling back layers of him, the muscular, sarcastic know-it-all that he presented to the world versus the man that would wake up early to surprise me with a new car so mine didn’t inevitably explode on the highway.

A man who would bring me food when he thought I was eating too much peanut butter and jelly—a man who would let a near stranger enter his house naked and freezing to use his shower.

It was sinking in, slowly and all at once.

Sebastian Wolfe Quinn wasn’t danger and fire. He was warmth and home. He waseverything.

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