Page 116 of Perfectly Grumpy

Then I kiss her forehead, followed by the tip of her nose, and finally on her lips. I meant it when I said I’d have her back—and her lips, her body, her heart.

THIRTY-SEVEN

lauren

When we get back to the lodge, we’re immediately mobbed by the entire family, declared the official winners of the paintball match. With Bart breaking the rules by shooting me unarmed, Aunt Karen disqualified him, and he stormed off without a word.

“So he’s gone?” I blink, trying to absorb the news.

Olivia rushes over to me, Annie tucked in her arms like a spoiled baby. “Packed up and peeled out. Didn’t even stay for the last night.”

Granny huffs behind her. “Good riddance. That man was like a bad rash. Not even Tammy’s essential oils could get rid of him.”

I laugh, and my eyes catch Tate’s from across the room, where he’s encircled by the men, who are bombarding him with questions about the final shootout.

A smile creeps across his lips. Slow, soft, knowing. My heart flutters in my chest.

“It was a team effort, really,” he says. “Lauren had my back. Just us against the world.”

Granny clutches her seltzer water. “Nowthatis real love. You hold your ground and stick together when life tries to rip you apart.” She lifts her glass. “This calls for a celebration. Who wants meatloaf for dinner?”

Olivia and I groan in unison, because no matter how much we hate meatloaf, Granny loves to serve it at every family function.

I turn to Olivia. “You know I love that woman,” I whisper, “but if I eat Granny’s meatloaf one more time, I might fake a stomach flu.”

“Oh, no you don’t. You have to come tonight. With Tate.” Olivia turns and watches Tate across the room, still surrounded by Dad and the uncles. “Speaking of which…” She leans close to me. “Please don’t screw this up.”

I blink. “What?”

“This relationship with Tate. Don’t walk away because it’ll be hard if you go to Kansas City.”

“Liv, I don’t know if there will even be an offer.”

“That’s not what this is about, and we both know it.” She steps closer, her voice kind but firm. “You’re scared, Lauren. After what Bart did to you, you’re terrified to trust another guy with your heart. But Tate’s not Bart. He’s not like any of the others.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because of the way he looks at you.”

I watch him head outside with the kids.

“Lauren, I’ve watched guys come and go in your life, and I’ve never seen a man look at you the way Tate does.”

My throat tightens with emotion.

She touches my arm. “He watches you when you’re not looking, smiles when you laugh, steps closer when you’re telling a story. That man is completely gone for you.”

“You really think…?”

“I know,” she says firmly. “And if you let your past mistakes talk you out of this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Don’t throw away something just because it doesn’t fit with your five-year plan.”

Her words land hard. Because she’s right—I’m letting my past drive this decision. But I’m also afraid I’m already so far gone for him that there’s no safe choice left.

I stare at her for one long beat before I say, “I need to get some fresh air.” Then I rush out the back door of the house, feeling like I’m suffocating under an invisible weight.

It’s not that I don’t want a life with Tate. It’s that I want it more than anything.

But I can’t let one magical week dictate the rest of my life. Vacation makes everything look perfect—you’re rested, carefree, living in a bubble where real problems don’t exist.

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