Chapter 41

“Are you sure you don’t mind spending the evening with my grandmother?” I ask as we pull up in front of her house.

Xavier smiles and leans in, his lips brushing against mine. “I’m sure,” he murmurs, before threading his hand into my hair and kissing me. I melt against him, and he sighs as he drops his forehead to mine. “Actually,” he says. “I changed my mind. We should go home and spend the evening in bed.”

I laugh and pull back. “Absolutely not.”

He pouts as he follows me to Grandma’s front door, and I pause in front of it, turning back to face him. “Xavier,” I say hesitantly. “Grandma hasn’t said it outright, but every time I speak to her she makes it clear she’s pretty worried about us. I just wanted to ask if… well, um…”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he promises instantly, placing his index finger underneath my chin. “I’ll pretend to be the perfect husband.”

I cup his face, our eyes locked. “You don’t need to pretend,” I whisper, letting the insinuation hang in the air between us. His eyes widen a fraction, and the vulnerability that crosses his face catches me off guard. I don’t want to look for things that aren’t there and drive myself crazy by reading too much into things, but maybe Raven was right, and I need to pay more attention to little cues, instead of focusing so much on everything he isn’t saying. “Come on,” I tell him, entwining our hands as we walk in and head straight for Grandma’s kitchen.

“Sierra, sweetheart,” Grandma says, grinning from ear to ear. She’s become so thin that she’s swimming in her beloved apron, and my heart wrenches painfully as I hug her. She’s never felt more fragile, and I’m acutely aware that my time with her is dwindling.

She sighs when I hug her a little too long, not wanting to let her go. “Shall we make some cookies?” she asks. “I’ve been wanting to teach Xavier my recipe.”

I pull back and stare at her, wide-eyed. “Him?” I ask, pointing at my husband. “You want to teach him when I’m the one that’s been begging to learn your recipe? What did he do to deserve that?”

She grins as she reaches for Xavier, and he gently brings her hand to his lips to kiss the back of her hand. “Are you doing okay?” she asks him, sounding concerned. “It must be hard to live with my granddaughter.”

I gape at the two of them in disbelief when he nods. “I’ve never been more tired,” he replies, sounding aggrieved.

I throw him the filthiest glare I can manage. He’s never been more tired because he never lets me sleep. “You…”

Grandma wraps her arm around his waist and stares me down, and I press my lips together, not daring to curse out my husband when she looks at me that way. “This is so unfair,” I mutter, before stalking to the sink to wash my hands.

Xavier chuckles and follows me. He reaches around me, my back pressed against his chest as he grabs my soapy hands and massages them, using the residue to wash his own hands. I tilt my head to look at him, my heart racing, and he grins as he presses a soft kiss to the tip of my nose before pulling back, leaving me standing there with blazing cheeks. Was that all just a show for Grandma, or was it more?

“Where do we start?” he asks Grandma, who immediately puts him to work.

“I’ve told her a thousand times that I’m not keeping the recipe from her,” she grumbles, complaining to my husband. “It’s not my fault they don’t taste the same when she makes them, is it? Let’s see if they’re any better when you make them.”

I cross my arms and stare at them in disbelief when they begin to discuss whether to make sugar cookies or chocolate chip cookies today, only to decide that they’ll make both. I thought Xavier would be as awkward around Grandma as I’ve been around his family, but that isn’t the case at all.

I’ve just begun to make pink icing when Grandma looks at Xavier and grins. “That reminds me,” she says. “I bought those Medjool dates we were talking about last time, and you were right. They were so much better than the dates I’d been using.”

Xavier smiles sweetly at her, but I notice the way his shoulder tense just slightly, the way he looks at me furtively for a moment, like he hadn’t expected Grams to bring this up.

“Dates?” I ask. “What?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Grandma says. “I mentioned wanting to make healthier brownies for you, and Xavier suggested I try Medjool dates.”

I tilt my head, still not quite comprehending what she’s telling me. “When did he suggest this?” I ask, baffled.

“Last week, wasn’t it?” she asks Xavier.

He nods, his expression guarded.

“You spoke to him last week?”

Grandma looks at me like I’ve lost the plot and nods. “Yes, Sierra. He’s been taking me out for lunch once every two weeks ever since you got married.”

What? I look at my husband, but he’s avoiding my gaze. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“Well, I’m his grandmother now too,” Grams says, seemingly defending Xavier. “I see almost all of my grandkids at least once a week.”

“I know,” I tell her, smiling. “I just wish I’d known, so I could’ve joined too.”

He looks up then, his shoulders relaxing. “I should’ve mentioned it,” he says, his voice soft. “I’m sorry.”

We both fall silent as grandma puts the cookies in the oven. “Call me when the timer goes off, alright?” she says. “I just going to make a call in the meantime.”

I nod as she walks away, no doubt just wanting to give us space. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice soft.

“I wanted to get to know the woman that raised you while I still could, and I didn’t want you to feel like I was using her to force you to spend time with me — nor did I want to encroach on your time with her.”

“Xavier,” I murmur, my voice breaking. “Why won’t you just talk to me? Why don’t you tell me these kinds of things? I’m so tired of trying to figure out what you’re thinking, of feeling like you’re shutting me out. I just… it hurts. I won’t ask you questions you clearly don’t want to answer, but please, don’t shut me out entirely.”

He reaches for me, and I stare at him as he brushes my hair out of my face, my heart bleeding. “Sierra,” he says, sounding pained. “The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you. I’m not great at expressing myself, but I promise you, I only ever have good intentions when it comes to you.”

“Try,” I plead. “Can’t you try to communicate with me, Xavier? Please.”

He looks away, his expression tormented. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. You don’t want to know what’s going on in my deprived mind, Kitten.”

I brush the back of my hand over his cheek in a soft caress. “I’ll be the judge of that.”