I took a deep breath as we walked over in front of the painting. Lily’s face lit up when she saw it. And just like always, I smiled seeing her smile. While she admired the art, I bent down on one knee.
She screeched and covered her mouth when she noticed. “Yes!”
I chuckled. “I didn’t ask anything yet, babe.”
She knelt so we were both on one knee. “Grant.”
“Yeah?”
“I have a surprise for you, too.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Chapter 17
* * *
Grant
I’d taken to recording the morning news and watching it at my desk.
I had a pile of work stacked up, a shitload of emails waiting for responses, and yet here I was, sitting at my desk on a Saturday watching yesterday morning’s show for the second time. Ireland looked good in turquoise. It brought out the color in her eyes. Though I didn’t get a good look at the full dress because she was always behind that desk. Maybe I should suggest the anchors get up at some point in the show, change things up a bit.
Jesus Christ. Was this really what I was doing? Analyzing a woman’s wardrobe choices to decide what outfit complements her eyes more? And debating calling down to the director of broadcasting to demand that the anchor stand so I can get a better look at her body? I needed my head fucking examined.
Blowing out a stream of hot air, I forced myself to X out of the video recording. I had work to do. Shitloads of it. Before Ireland Saint James, I couldn’t have even told you the name of the station we owned, much less what anyone wore. To say the woman had me distracted would be an understatement.
I picked up a file and started to go through a prospective investment that had been sitting on my desk since last week. But two pages into it, my phone buzzed, and though I’d normally ignore it while working, I dug it out of my pocket.
Ireland: Thank you for the flowers. I had a good time last night, too. Especially the end part up against my car.
She’d included a little winky face at the end of her text. Normally, people who used emojis in their texts pissed me off. Yet I found myself smiling at the little yellow face. I texted back.
Grant: Dinner tonight?
Ireland: Can’t. I have plans.
Since I had plans on Sunday, I texted back suggesting next weekend, but she was busy then, too. An hour later, the text exchange was still bugging me.
She has plans.
Did she have a date? I’d had drinks with her once, so her having dinner with someone else wasn’t exactly off limits. Yet the idea of her going out with another man made me crazy.
I forced myself back to work and tried to ignore thoughts of her out with some other guy tonight. But I reread the same page three times and still had no idea what the words said. So I tossed the file aside and picked my phone back up.
Grant: Are your plans tonight a date?
The little dots started to jump around and then stopped and started a few times.
Ireland: Would that upset you?
Answering a question with a question was right up there next to how much I disliked emojis. This woman was screwing with me. I didn’t play games. I didn’t have damn time for games. Which reminded me…I needed to get back to work.
I tossed my phone to the side and dug back into the investment prospectus I had been trying to digest.
But twenty minutes later, I had my goddamned phone in my hand again. I was completely distracted by just one simple text. I wasn’t sure if I was angrier at myself for needing to know her plans or her for not answering my question.
Grant: Just answer the question.
Her response was immediate.
Ireland: Boy, someone’s cranky.
I took a deep breath, which did little to help me relax.
Grant: That would be because I’m still waiting for an answer to my question…
Ireland: Is the muscle in your jaw flexing right now?
I read her text and looked up at the ceiling. This woman was going to be the death of me. And I was starting to get a headache from how hard I’d been clenching my teeth. So she wasn’t wrong about the muscle in my jaw.
Grant: Ireland…answer the damn question.
My phone started to buzz for a call, rather than a text. Ireland’s name flashed on the screen. I swiped to answer.
“Why must you be so difficult?” I said in greeting.
Ireland laughed, and the sound instantly softened the muscle in my jaw. “You’re fun to screw with.”
I leaned back in my chair. “I’m much more fun to screw. How about we move on to that phase of the relationship instead of you making me fucking nuts?”
I could tell she was still smiling when she spoke. “I do have a date tonight, but you don’t have anything to be worried about because he’s married.”
“Come again?”
She giggled. “I have the rehearsal dinner for my best friend Mia’s wedding, which is next weekend. My partner in the wedding is her brother, who is married to a man. So technically, I guess he’s my date tonight.”
Great. Now I’m jealous of a gay, married man…
“How about Sunday?” she said.
I decided to see if turnabout was fair play. “Can’t. I have a date.”
Of course, that date was with my grandmother to play Santa Claus at the annual Pia’s Place party…
She was quiet for a long moment and then said in a curt tone. “Well, if you have a date, you don’t need a second one with me.”
I smiled. “You see how that feels, Ireland? It’s not very pleasant, is it? Especially not while I’m trying to get work done. My date tomorrow is with my grandmother.”
“Oh.”
“Next weekend, then?” I said. I really didn’t want to wait that long.
Ireland sighed. “Next weekend is the wedding. Mia and I are going to spend the last night in our apartment together Friday night and then Saturday is the wedding and Sunday is a brunch with the wedding party. I don’t usually go out on weeknights because I get up so early for work. But maybe we can have an early dinner or something one night?”
“I’m leaving Monday for a business trip to the east coast. I’ll be gone until Thursday evening.”
“Oh.” At least she sounded as disappointed as I felt. “Well, maybe the weekend after, then. Or maybe…would it be too weird if I asked you to come with me to the rehearsal dinner tonight? Spouses are coming that aren’t in the wedding. So it’s not just the wedding party.”
I’d been thinking of our date as being a nice quiet evening with just the two of us, not a night with all of her friends at some wedding rehearsal. But waiting two weeks to see her was not an option. So I’d have to take what I could get.
“What time should I pick you up?”
“Really? You’ll come?”
“Apparently that’s the only way I’m going to get to see you, so yes. But, full disclosure, I’m only coming because I can’t wait to push you up against the car again and suck your face.”
She laughed. “That’s fair. How about six thirty? The rehearsal is at seven and dinner is right after. They’re getting married at the restaurant, so the rehearsal part won’t take very long.”