Page 64 of The Ampersand Effect

Tobin couldn’t breathe. How was it possible for Grier to completely disassemble every thought she’d held within—every thought she’d held about herself—since her accident? How did she rewrite her last three years of self-flagellation, of pity and isolation— and somehow shape it into something beautiful?

She didn’t know what to say. And somehow, Grier seemed to know that. She reached her hand across the table cushion and interlaced their fingers. “I hope you understand that I’m implying you don’t have to do it alone.”

Grier was literally reading her mind. Fuck her walls—Grier apparently had ghost-like abilities, waltzing right through them to the center of Tobin’s psyche, settling there, pacifying her demons and laying waste to years of insecurity.

“Is this still not a date?” Tobin didn’t realize she had said it out loud until Grier’s light, gloriously radiant laughter bubbled from her chest.

“I think we both knew this was never not a date. But I knew you were struggling with something. And patience is something I’m rather good at—despite how very much I don’t want to be.” She paused, eyes flicking to the table cushion between them. “Can we move this? I feel too far away for this conversation.”

You can have anything you want,Tobin thought.

Tobin unwillingly relinquished Grier’s fingers, rose, and moved the table cushion and remnants of their lunch to the table. She returned to the couch, curling her legs beneath her, settling opposite Grier—who had subtly shifted closer to where Tobin had been. Unsure what to do with her hands, she tucked them between her legs— conveniently hiding their anxioustremble. Grier reached for her hand as soon as she attempted to hide it.

“I think we should take it slow. As cliché as that sounds, I think we both have histories that warrant a little caution.”

Tobin couldn’t form words—her throat was too constricted with emotion. She nodded and squeezed Grier’s hand, hoping it would convey all that she was feeling—and signal her agreement. It seemed to work, and they settled into a comfortable silence, with Grier resting her head against Tobin’s shoulder, letting out a light, gratifying sigh of contentment. Patchouli and bergamot tingled her nose, somehow calming and invigorating her.

“You’re shaking, Tobin. Tell me why?” It was a gentle invitation. Apparently she was invigorated beyond subtlety.

Tobin looked into Grier’s warm, amber eyes and felt her heart skip a beat. Her voice was barely a whisper, “I’m not convinced you’re real.”

Grier’s close-mouthed smile shone in her eyes. “I’m definitely real.” Then her voice lowered, husky and intimate. “But I will never stop trying to give dimension to your fantasies.”

Tobin felt the cool air brush her eyes as her pupils blew, hearing Grier’s words and recognizing the hunger in them. She watched Grier’s gaze track briefly to her own lips, and she licked them on instinct. Grier’s breath hitched, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

Against every single gods-damned instinct she had, Tobin abruptly stood. “Slow?”

Grier deflated mildly, shaking her head in frustrated agreement with Tobin’s reluctant reminder. “Yes. Slow.”

Tobin began pacing slightly, trying to expend her sexual energy. Then she paused. “Dessert!”

Grier turned, mildly confused. “Excuse me?”

“I prepared dessert. Hang on!” Tobin darted into the kitchen and procured a mason jar with light pink contents from the freezer.

She returned to the deck to find Grier standing at the railing, gazing out over the rough water. The waves crashed against the cliffs below, somehow in perfect rhythm with her pulse. She handed Grier a spoon and opened the jar, offering it to her.

Grier eyed her curiously, a slight squint as she evaluated the contents of the jar.

Tobin tapped her spoon gently against Grier’s. “To new beginnings, and slow foundations.” Grier’s smile widened, and Tobin’s body thrummed with the beginnings of what felt an awful lot like happiness.

“This is homemade Rainier cherry sorbet,” Tobin continued. “I thought we could use a… palate cleanser.” She winked, and tongued a spoonful of the rich, sweet dessert off the spoon, turning it upside down on the way to her mouth.

Grier slid her spoon into her mouth and moaned softly as the sorbet hit her tastebuds. “Now it’smyturn to ask ifyou’rereal! This is divine. Seriously, I haven’t even had the chance to tell you that the way to my heart is through food, and—shit, Tobin… bring that back!” Grier stabbed her spoon into the jar for another heaping scoop, lips and tongue darting in a way Tobin understood for the promise it was.

“You might like to know that I picked the cherries used in this,” Tobin cooed, leaning against the railing, knowing full well it drew the V of her white shirt snug against her breasts.

Tobin watched as Grier’s eyes darkened, the amber swirling around her coal-black pupils. Her grin turned smug when she caught Grier’s wandering gaze. She had laid a trap—and Grier willingly entered.

Tobin’s voice dropped low. “It’s a family recipe. My grandmother and I perfected it when I was little, spending my summers with her and my grandfather on their cherry farm.”

Grier stopped mid-bite, a sliver of sorbet melting on her tongue. “Okay, now Iknowyou’re not real.”

The proclamation jolted her back to reality; the world faded into shadow once more as she remembered there was still one very important thing they needed to discuss before this—whateverthiswas—could really have the freedom to begin. Everything inside her rebelled against the confession, but she knew if they didn’t have this conversation now, she’d be risking both their hearts when it inevitably surfaced later. She had a timeline, and Grier deserved to know about it.

She turned abruptly to face Grier head-on. “There’s one more

thing…”