Page 118 of The Ampersand Effect
She turned to face Grier, green eyes locking with hers. A faint crinkle at the corners sent a rush of warmth through Grier’s chest.
“Grier, would you like to join Harrow, Eddie, and me for the Fourth of July at our grandmother’s cherry orchard?”
Tobin set down the spatula and slipped a hand into her back pocket, a small, telling gesture Grier had learned meant she was trying not to fidget.
She was nervous!
Grier beamed at her, overwhelmed by the knowledge that Tobin wanted to include her in her family holidays—badly enough to make her anxious. She hated that Tobin couldn’t already tell that she wanted to spend every spare moment—and several stolen ones—with her.
“I’d love to!” Grier exclaimed, a staggering edge of glee in her voice. Then, a playful spark tugged at her consciousness—a way to share even more of herself with Tobin, to encourage more invitations, and settle her nerves. To let Tobin know that anywhere she was, that was exactly where Grier wanted to be. “But I have a condition.”
Tobin’s shoulders stiffened, her brief bravado faltering. She looked at Grier, concern blooming in her eyes, a silent question swirling in their depths.
“If I get to crash your family events,” Grier said, stepping closer into Tobin’s space, wrapping her arms around her waist, tilting her head up to meet those worried green eyes, “then you get to crash mine. I want you to come to Friday Night Films.” She ignored Harrow’s delighted squeak behind them.
Tobin’s eyes went wide. “Really? That’s like… your most sacred night of the week.”
“Can’t be that sacred—” Harrow interjected, grinning. “I hear a litany of less-than-hushed benedictions emanating from your room on other nights of the week.”
Grier chuckled, burying her face in the warmth of Tobin’s chest. She very much appreciated a woman who spoke her mind. “Harrow, when’s your birthday? I think I need to get you some noise-canceling headphones.”
That Friday night, Grier stood at the stove, waiting for the popcorn to pop, lost in thought. She leaned a hip against the counter and tapped a finger against her puckered lips. The week had been quiet. The novelty of her relationship with Tobin had long since lost its luster for Alix and Maren—especially once Grier became decidedly tight-lipped about any explicit details.
She was still providing acupuncture for Ally as she recovered from surgery and had convened with both Alix and Haleigh to evaluate her progress. Haleigh remained hopeful they could avoid spinal rod placement, managing her scoliosis through light adjustments and rehab from the Integrative Health side.
Grier was deeply grateful to have had found an ally in Haleigh, and she hoped their professional collaboration would grow into something lasting. With Dr. Miles planning to retire in the next five years, and Dr. Vanders still holding seniority, Grier silently rooted for Haleigh to be a strong contender for chief when the time came. She’d garnered the respect of her peers and colleagues quietly—but undeniably.
Grier tucked her hands into the pocket of her hoodie, listening to the kernels rattle in the pot. Vanders had been conspicuously quiet since she and Haleigh had circumvented his push for surgical intervention in Ally’s case. She assumed he was still licking his wounds, but a current of suspicion edged beneath her skin whenever she thought of him. His silence felt less likesurrender and more like sinister calculation. Still, he’d remained unusually subdued during grand rounds—even going so far as to actually support, albeit noncommittally, a trial of acupuncture for one of the surgical candidates.
She and Haleigh had started to seek each other’s opinions more freely, too—a shift Grier credited to Haleigh’s newfound ease now that her relationship with Grant was no longer a secret. But she wasn’t complaining. It felt good to expand her social circle. And she hoped that’s exactly what it was—two colleagues slowly becoming friends.
Warm, familiar arms wrapped around Grier’s waist, tracing the length of her forearms before slipping into the pocket of her hoodie. A body pressed against her from behind, enveloping her in a hug that blanked her mind of workday worries. Tobin was here.
“Mmm, hi,” she drawled contentedly. Grant must have let her in—Delta and Lake were already downstairs waiting for the movie to start, or Lake would’ve raised hell at the presence of a new human. Not that she was disappointed in her sudden appearance. Not in the slightest.
“Hi, yourself,” Tobin cooed.
Grier melted back into Tobin, relishing the way she seemed to fit in Tobin’s arms.
“You look like you’re solving world peace inside that pretty head of yours,” Tobin murmured near her ear before kissing her cheek.
“Something like that,” Grier replied, closing her eyes and yielding to the peace Tobin evoked in her. When the popcorn began popping, she reluctantly extricated herself from Tobin’s embrace to shake the pan.
A heavy contented warmth spread through her chest—the quiet fullness of belonging. Having Tobin here for Friday Night Film meant more than she’d expected. She hadn’t wanted anyrecent partners to breach that line, to mingle with her family, tofeellike family. And as new as this was, Tobin already felt a whole hell of a lot like family. That thought settled in her stomach—comfortable and certain.
“So,” Grier said, turning slightly toward her, “tell me how you got Eddie to agree to both the auctionandthe Pride parade float with less than two weeks to prepare.” She was genuinely curious—and thrilled that her plan might help save Fetch a Friend. If it mattered to Tobin, Grier didn’t have to force it to matter to her.
“Actually, it wasn’t even that hard,” Tobin replied. “Eddie’s usually in favor of anything that counts as a charitable donation— and she’s particularly keen on dogs. She’s been wanting to show more queer alliance, and we’ve talked about Pride floats before but never pulled the trigger. Merging the two was a no-brainer. She was pretty much on board from the start.”
Grier cocked a surprised eyebrow. She’d expected a bit more resistance from Eddie. But maybe the woman reallywasmade of money, and spending a little on a parade float—complete with a helicopter and pen of rambunctious rescue puppies—was just a drop her ocean. It didn’t matter why—she was grateful her plan would be mutually beneficial to them all.
“The helo-tour—well, that took a little more convincing. Especially when I mentioned the highest bidder got to choose our uniforms,” Tobin infused her tone with playful jest.
Grier felt her excitement grow as the story unfolded.
“She declined that part,” Tobin continued, “but very graciously encouraged me to wear whatever I want for the highest bidder.”
“But youdidmanage to convince her to say yes?” Grier interjected, an attempt to keep Tobin in this adorable storyteller persona.