Page 36 of The Social Affair (New Hope 1)

“Just work stuff,” he says. “I want to lie with you before I have to hop on another call.”

“All right.” I place my hands on my hips. He’s already halfway to the bed. Sex will resolve some of the tension. I watch as he strips out of his clothes. I start to remove my own when he holds his hand up. “Come here,” he says, and I do. My husband desires obedience. There’s security in that.

He takes me in his arms, and I feel that something in me, the weight of the day, the weight of the past few weeks, slowly melts away. He sits back on the bed and I sit facing him. I start to unbutton my blouse when he stops me. “Would you mind?” he asks nodding. “It’s been a long day,” he sighs. “And I could really use some relief.”

My eyes widen. I’d like to say I’m not surprised, but that would be a lie.

“Josie,” he says, getting my attention. I feel tears coming. Grant thinks crying is a form of manipulation. “Come on,” he says almost earnestly. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

I scoot lower on the bed, and I give him what he wants. This is the thing no one tells you about loving a person, I think, working him the way I know he likes. They’re bound to hurt you at some point. You can’t make a lifelong commitment to another person and come out unscathed. No one does. You just do the best you can to minimize the damage.

“We need to talk,” Grant tells me, waking me from sleep. I glance toward the balcony. It’s dark out. I have no idea what time it is, or how long I’ve been asleep. He brushes the hair from my face. Drool has matted it to my cheek. My mouth is dry. “I have something for you.”

He’s holding a small box. I blink as he kneels before me. He thrusts the box in my direction. I’m not fully awake.

“You didn’t have to do this,” I tell him.

“I wanted to.”

I eye the box. He holds it up to me, and when I reach for it he pulls it away. “First, there’s something I need to know…”

“Okay,” I answer unsure where this is going.

He studies my face carefully. “If you could do it all o

ver again…would you?”

“Do what?”

He frowns. “This. Us.”

I narrow my gaze. “Of course, why?”

He lets out a long heavy sigh. “It’s nothing,” he says. He looks relieved, and this is the man I know. He doesn’t ask questions like this. “Just something I needed to hear.”

“Here,” he says, thrusting the box at me. “Open it.”

I lift the lid and inside are the most gorgeous emerald earrings I’ve ever seen. They’re drop earrings surrounded by the tiniest understated diamonds that make the rest of it just pop. ‘Thank you,” I say, my face flush. “This is too much.”

“There’s more…” He tells me, and he stands and walks over to the closet and opens it. “They will go perfectly with the dress I purchased.”

“Grant… wow. I don’t know what to say.”

He smiles. “You’ve said enough.”

He helps me slip into the gown, and then we’re off into the night, no worse for the wear.

Dinner turns out to be lovely. We don’t talk about forced feedings or New Hope or even the kids. We don’t speak much at all, in fact. In the end, I know how it’ll turn out. He’ll strip me out of this expensive dress, and make love to me with the earrings on. Later when I go to the sink to clean up and wash my face, I’ll remove them. I’ll carefully lay them next to the others, a long line of gifts that remind me all things broken can be fixed. A beautiful reminder of remorse. I’ll snap a photo of them next to my dress on the hanger and post it to Instalook with the caption: he loves me.

Chapter Eighteen

Izzy

Serendipity, it turned out to be. I first saw it in Josie’s photo sitting on Grant’s bedside table. These are the things one can come to know about a person by studying their behavior online. Innocent things. Intimate things. Things one can use to their advantage. Things like books. People like people who have the same tastes. It offers a sense of validation. Most people need that. Even the Grant Dunns of the world aren’t immune to neediness in that sense. The only difference is he doesn’t want you to know he has insecurities, whereas most people shout them from the rooftops. I once read a study about the negative to positive ratio in regard to the kinds of things people say online. Also, how much is fact and how much is fiction. It was enlightening. It’s strange what people connect to.

“I can’t believe you’re reading that,” he says. He looks over at me, devilish grin and all. “I thought no one read Dickens anymore.” I smirk. It’s been days since I’ve seen that grin. Maybe Josh was right when he said fire needs air to breathe.

“What if I didn’t take you home immediately?” he quips. “What if we went for a little drive instead?”

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