Page 117 of The Innovator

Mom told me to give it time. She made no suggestion for me to see other people. Her support for Grayson baffled me. Most mothers would want their daughter to move on, but somehow Grayson had charmed her. I didn’t understand it.

Tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them away. I went on a walk to clear my mind, not to cry in public.

Cars honked and a group of tourists came out of a restaurant, filling the silence with chatter and bringing out a different energy.

I took out my phone and snapped a photo of another snowflake on my glove and posted it to ChatNow. It was my second photo on that platform with one statement: Beauty is momentary. Capture it before it disappears.

More people strode by with cups of coffee warming their hands. A couple walked toward me, the man with an arm around the woman, pulling her close to keep warm. My chest tightened, remembering how Grayson used to make me feel safe and warm.

Stop thinking about him.

I went into a café, bought a cup of coffee, and continued walking. I had no direction to where I was going and kept walking and turning down streets. Eventually, I came to the building that held my first auction—where Grayson had purchased my sweater.

Had he worn it yet? Or had he tossed it out?

My heart lurched, imagining him throwing it out. That sweater meant so much to me. I had been terrified when I knitted it, and even more frightened when I submitted the piece to the auction. After it sold, I felt validated—someone loved it enough to pay that much for my sweater.

I hoped he’d donate it to RISD, MassArt, FIT, or even Pratt. A fashion school would be happy to receive it.

Sighing, I continued walking away from that building and headed down another street and another. A ruckus sounded in the distance, and I was about to head over there, but a voice spoke up near me.

“It’s not safe over there. Too many drunken men in the streets.”

I turned to Andrew—Grayson’s bodyguard—standing beside me wearing a thick coat and a paperboy hat. He gripped a cup of coffee in his hand. “It’s safer that way.” He gestured to where I had just come from.

I remembered how he’d come to my rescue when Estelle attacked me.

With furrowed eyebrows, I studied him from top to bottom. “Did Grayson send you to Paris?”

He didn’t reply, but his smile and his eyes told me enough. How long had Andrew been following me? If Grayson didn’t care about me anymore, why would he send his bodyguard to watch over me? Had he made some deal with my mom?

I could take care of myself. I didn’t need Grayson or his bodyguard.

There was no anger in me. I was too tired for that and sighed. “Andrew, it’s very nice to see you here. I hope Paris is treating you well, but please tell your boss I don’t need or want you following me around. He can save money and put it toward something else. I’m certain he has a lot of job openings more suitable for you. It’s boring following someone who rarely goes out, right?”

Andrew smiled, but didn’t reply.

“Have a good evening. Don’t stay out too late. I heard more snow’s coming.”

“You as well, Ms. LaRue.”

Grayson said he still saw me as his friend during our last encounter. How many of his other female friends had a bodyguard following them around? Maybe all of them.

I returned to my apartment and threw myself into work, forgetting about Grayson.

CHAPTERSIXTY-SIX

GRAYSON

I hadn’t slept well in days, keeping myself busy with the upcoming visit to Club Diablo and the Three Point Park project.

Inside my office, I sat and mapped out what I needed to do in the next few days. My phone rang, and I ignored it. It rang again.

Cursing, I picked up the call and barked. “What?”

“You okay? Just wondering if you want me to swing by with dinner later?” Forrest asked.

My boys and I were supposed to go over the attack plan for Club Diablo. I’d almost forgotten about it.

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