Page 61 of UnLucky Christmas
We pull into the parking lot ofDelagios, a brand-new restaurant I’ve never been to.
“Oh, I’ve heard of this place,” I exclaim. “Hopefully I’m dressed okay.”
The corner of his mouth turns up as his eyes run over me. “I think you look perfect.”
We both grow quiet as our eyes connect once again.
“You can keep the compliments coming all night, but I’m still not kissing you,” I say defiantly.
He leans closer to me. “And I’m not kissing you.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
I wait a few seconds and then open my door. I hear him let out a frustrated groan which makes me smile to myself. He locks the doors and holds out his hand. We interlace our fingers as we walk into the restaurant.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Everything I’ve tasted so far has been delicious. We haven’t even gotten our entrees, and I’m almost full.
“Are you close to your family?” Grant asks before sipping his water.
I inhale sharply. “If you had asked me that question a month ago, I’d have a different answer. Things are weird right now.”
I tell him about my parents’ divorce announcement, my father moving out, and my mother’s new friend, Bill.
“And this all came out of nowhere?” he asks.
I nod, but I don’t want to complain too much. Macy and Grant have lost both of their parents, my situation is nothing compared to what they’ve been through.
“It’ll be an adjustment,” I admit. “I just wish it didn’t happen right before Christmas.”
The server delivers our meals, and I stare at my chicken.
“Are you full?” he asks, grinning.
I grit my teeth. “A little.”
He laughs. “Me too. We’ll get some boxes.”
Seeing Grant laugh is a welcome change, and it makes me realize that there’s a warmer side of him that’s just below his cold and serious exterior.
A few minutes later our server boxes up our meals and places them in a bag.
I take a sip of my wine. I’ve only had about three sips. I’m pacing myself especially after what happened the last time I drank.
“I don’t mean to complain about my family,” I tell him. “I’m really sorry about your mom.”
I reach across the table and place my hand on his.
He lets out a sigh. “Yes, it’s been difficult. I think Macy has handled it better than me. I’ve basically shut down and thrown myself into my work and going to the gym.”
I nod. “That’s understandable.”
“I don’t know if it’s healthy,” he continues. “Everyone grieves differently. But Macy’s always on me about getting out and being social.”
“She’s just looking out for you.”
