I breathe in relief as he moves past me toward another part of the store. I stand for a minute with Ollie swinging off the cart like a monkey to gather myself.
Slade pulled his truck into the driveway while I scrounged for any possible excuse for why he didn’t need to take us to the store, silently cursing when I came up empty.
He helped me load the car seats while I inhaled and exhaled, hoping to survive this little shopping adventure with a limited number of questions and my dignity intact. Ten minutes later, Frankie was strapped in the shopping cart with Ollie riding shotgun.
It’s one thing to roam the store with your meal planner, searching for the best deals. It’s entirely another when you have to decide between fresh fruit and a large pack of chicken breast that will last two weeks. The internal battle is bad enough. I don’t need a witness.
I swipe open my phone and tap the app, double-checking the coupons. “Hang on, Ol.”
He plants both feet on the end of the cart, and I push us toward the refrigerated section, needing to make this quick. We wander up and down the aisles, grabbing only the essentials. I spot Slade from a distance and keep moving.
Ollie hops off the cart. “We have to get the sssstuff for my cookies.”
It’s Ollie’s turn to take treats to school. I check my list for the few ingredients we need to make his favorite, and park the cart in the candy section, looking for the Hershey’s Kisses.
I squat, searching the lower shelves.
“Well, hello there.”
A man’s voice catches me off guard, and I peer up to find Griffin smiling at Ollie and Frankie. Rather than his usual suit, he’s in a button-down shirt and jeans, holding a shopping basket.
From my observations, Griffin works around the clock seven days a week, except for an occasional tee time with his son, business acquaintances, or Seth.
I know he’s married and has two grown children—a son and a daughter. Kat mentioned that his son is a piece of work, but I’ve yet to meet either of them.
“Hi.” I stand.
“It’s nice to finally meet these two.” He smiles at Ollie.
“This is Oliver and Frankie,” I say, resting my hands on the cart.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says.
Ollie only stares, and Griffin’s gaze returns to me.
“It’s a gorgeous day. Do you all have plans?”
Why is it strange to converse with people you practically see and speak to daily? Outside of the confines of the office, it’s awkward. Or maybe it’s just that I’d like to avoid discussing anything related to my personal life and what that currently entails.
One thing I learned long ago is that people immediately formulate a perception of you. You can be smart, capable, talented, and the most badass of all badasses in any field, but often, it will all go unrecognized if you don’t have the persona to match. People like neat, organized, and uncomplicated—a nice tidy box they can place you in. It gives them comfort.
My box has a long history of layered duct tape over holes with labels that have been scratched out and replaced. Now, all the contents have been dumped out and are waiting for my careful examination to determine what remains true. I’m a little terrified there won’t be much I recognize anymore, and beyond that, I just might need a brand new box. So, until I get it sorted out, I’d prefer to keep that mess under wraps for my viewing pleasure only.
“We’re grabbing a few groceries, and then we might play outside this afternoon.” I keep it short and general.
He nods, and I see Slade round the corner of the aisle. His cart stops alongside mine as his gaze drifts to Griffin.
I’m not sure what happens exactly, but there’s a shift. It’s like when barometric pressure drops before a storm. You can’t feel it, but you know the atmosphere around you is different.
Griffin’s weight shifts under the pressure of the big guy’s expressionless stare. Uncomfortable doesn’t even begin to describe the still silence, and my body temperature climbs again.
“Griffin, this jolly giant is Slade, my. . .neighbor.” It stumbles out of my mouth because that’s what happens when things are weird.
Griffin only nods, his eyes lingering on Slade. I contemplate easing my cart backward and letting whatever is happening continue without me.
“Well, I’ll let you get on with your shopping.” Griffin’s gaze falls to the kids again. “It was nice meeting you.” He dips his chin. “Sarah, I’ll see you at the office.” He turns and walks away.
My eyes travel to the unmoving, massive rock beside me. He stares down the aisle at my boss’s back. “I’ll meet you up front.” His tone is flat and hoarse.
