The Truth in Tiramisu (A Poppy Creek Novel Book 2)

by Rachael Bloome

  When they pulled up to the farmhouse, Cassie cut the engine. “Want me to come inside with you?”

  Eliza gazed at the imitation Tiffany lamp glowing in the front window. “No, that’s okay. Thank you, though.” Her words sounded dull and hollow.

  Cassie reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Hey, I know everything seems hopeless right now. But I promise you, it’s not.”

  “Thanks.” Her palms clammy, Eliza gripped the door handle and shoved it open.

  “I’ll come by tomorrow. Try to get some sleep.” Cassie’s car purred back to life.

  “Good night.” Eliza winced as the car door slammed shut with a thud of finality.

  Once inside, she slipped out of her heels and crept down the dark hallway toward the sliver of light peeking beneath Ben’s bedroom door. Cracking it open, she caught sight of her son sound asleep, his Marvel night-light casting shadows across his peaceful features. Her heart wrenched, and Eliza quickly covered her mouth, stifling another sob.

  She tiptoed across the plush carpet and knelt beside his bed, tucking her bare feet beneath her. Holding her breath, she took in every infinitesimal detail. The tiny flutter of his eyelids. The delicate wisps of blond hair splayed across his forehead. The way his lower lip stuck out farther than the other, giving him an adorable pout.

  Everything about him was perfection. And even though he changed all the time, growing and maturing faster than an egg timer, he remained perfect in her eyes. Her little Bug. Her glorious light in the midst of darkness.

  She couldn’t let him go. She wouldn’t let him go.

  As she reached for the switch to the night-light, a splash of color on the nightstand caught her attention. Gently, Eliza lifted a crinkled sheet of paper, the watercolors still damp on the surface.

  Her hand flew to her throat.

  Ben’s latest work of art depicted two figures rendered with bright, bold smears of paint and confident, unrestrained brushstrokes.

  Two figures who clearly represented Grant and Ben.

  Father and son.

  Together.

  Large, unbridled tears cascaded down her cheeks, rolling off her chin and onto the page, dispersing the colors like ripples in a lake. Frantic, Eliza dabbed at the splotches, merely spreading the damage.

  “No, no, no…” she murmured under her breath, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand to mop up the mess while tears continued to ping across the page—tiny, cleansing raindrops washing away the painful image.

  Yet when Eliza gazed at the marred painting, Grant’s features nothing more than a smudge, she came face-to-face with her past.

  She’d wiped Ben’s father from his life before.

  Did she really want to repeat the same mistake?

  Flicking on the switch, Grant winced as harsh light flooded the room. His room. Four walls that once held his odd assortment of Star Wars posters and reproduction prints of Van Gogh’s Starry Night and Water Lilies by Monet. The ceiling he used to stare at every night in high school, daydreaming about Eliza.

  Now, the walls were painted a muted mint green, adorned with select pieces of original artwork, none of which were Grant’s. His frayed navy-blue bedspread since replaced by a pastel floral quilt. Nothing of his former years survived, save for the back corner of the closet where a few belongings he’d left behind had been swiftly banished.

  Grant shoved aside the cedar hangers laden with expensive designer gowns his mother no longer had use for, his gaze resting on a stack of dusty shoeboxes. The one on top housed his beloved Chuck Taylor All Stars. The one beneath contained his barely worn Air Jordans. But the bottom box…

  Well, that one was special.

  Reverently, he slid it from underneath the stack and sat cross-legged on the floor.

  His heart thudded against his rib cage as he carefully removed the lid, coughing as dust particles flitted into the air.

  A leather sketchbook filled with drawings of Eliza caught his attention first, followed by the note she’d tucked inside the first tin of cookies she’d ever baked him.

  Grant smiled wistfully as his fingers grazed a bundle of love letters they’d passed back and forth in Ms. Lassen’s English class, which eventually resulted in the one and only time he was ever sent to Principal Whittaker’s office.

  As Grant sifted through the trinkets and photographs, tears blurred his vision. He removed his glasses and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before slipping them back on.

  One item remained to be found. A small velvet box.

  After removing each item individually, revealing nothing save for a few dust mites and flecks of lint stuck to the bottom of the cardboard, Grant’s pulse slowed to a standstill.

  Where was the promise ring?

  Grant was certain Eliza had given it back to him. The cold metal had singed his palm when she’d shoved it into his hand. Where could it be? He acutely remembered placing it back inside the ring box before stashing it beneath the rest of the memorabilia.

  He knew it was foolish to save it. But keeping it gave Grant a tiny glimmer of hope.

  A glimmer that had recently been snuffed out.

  His phone buzzed on the nightstand. As he reached for it, his breath cut short.

  Eliza’s name flashed across the screen.

  Grant briefly adjusted his glasses, not trusting the words before his eyes.

  You can take Ben for the summer. I’m glad you want to get to know him. And I don’t want to get in the way of that. I’m so terribly sorry I hurt you. I pray that someday you can forgive me. Love, Lizzy

  Grant pressed a hand to his chest, attempting to keep the intense ache from spreading. His eyes, throat, skin… everything burned.

  Why did it have to be like this? He wanted to forgive her. Deep in his core, he didn’t believe Eliza had meant to cause him pain. Every muscle in his body tensed, itching to run to her, to put everything in their tangled past firmly behind them.

  His love for her had never been in question.

  But could he trust her?

  Chapter 26

  Eliza scanned the town square, searching for Grant amid the billowy white tents and shoulder-to-shoulder throng of parents and children converged for the Summer Kick-Off Carnival put on by the school.

  Ben had run off with a few friends to try their hand at the homemade carnival games, and Eliza crossed her fingers he didn’t come back with a live goldfish. Although she supposed keeping it alive would be Grant’s responsibility now. Her stomach twisted, and she immediately banished the thought. They were supposed to be celebrating. And they had extra reason to revel this year. After they’d explained Ben’s vision issues to Daphne, she’d agreed to pass him to the next grade with the condition he got corrective lenses. A task Grant offered to handle himself.

  “So, you’re telling Ben today?” Cassie kept her voice low, her hand clasped firmly in Luke’s as they strolled past the silent auction raising funds for next year’s events.

  “That’s the plan. We thought it would be easier in the midst of the fun and excitement.” Eliza’s stomach flip-flopped again, and she tried to focus on the festivities rather than their difficult talk with Ben later that afternoon.

  They passed a booth of contestants wearing blindfolds, trying to guess various pie flavors. Jack wore a red gingham bandana over his eyes, and he smacked his lips loudly. “Maple bacon apple pie?”

  Beverly, the score keeper, wrote down his answer on a clipboard, while Frank mumbled, “Should we tighten his blindfold?”

  Cassie snickered. “I think Jack has an advantage when it comes to anything with bacon in it.”

  “You’ve got that right.” Luke grinned as they wandered toward the edge of the lawn, pausing near the ominous dunk tank that sat ready for the special event later in the day. Reaching his hand over the side, Luke tested the water and grimaced. “It’s freezing.”

  “Did you sign up to be dunked this year?” Eliza asked.

  “The guys are all placing bets on who will d
unk him first. Even I might have a go at it.” Cassie’s eyes danced with mischief.

  “Wait until we cut our wedding cake. I may get my revenge with a little frosting on the tip of your nose.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” Cassie laughed.

  “Wouldn’t I?” Luke dipped his hand in the tank again, flinging water droplets at Cassie who shrieked, then giggled as she tried to duck out of the way.

  A pang of envy tore through Eliza’s heart as she watched them tease each other. She’d been so close to having that with Grant. Then her lie had ripped it away. And deservedly so. It was foolish to think he’d ever forgive her.

  As if sensing her train of thought, Cassie’s features softened, and she leaned against Luke, seeking comfort. “Liza, have you explained to Grant why you didn’t tell him about Ben?”

  “No.” Her gaze flickered to Luke’s face, noticing the way his hazel eyes clouded with compassion. “Did Cassie tell you?”

  He briefly glanced at his soon-to-be bride, then nodded slowly.

  “I’m so sorry.” A blush swept across Cassie’s cheeks. “It sort of… slipped out. But he’s the only one I told. Cross my heart.”

  Eliza smiled as Cassie drew a giant X in the air. “It’s fine. Really. You two are almost newlyweds. I don’t expect you to keep secrets from each other.”

  Luke’s warm expression conveyed his gratitude as he slid his arm around Cassie’s waist, drawing her closer. “Can I ask why you haven’t told him?”

  Eliza dropped her gaze to the ground, studying the contrast of her pink nail polish against her teal wedge sandals. The truth was, she’d thought about telling Grant countless times. For her sake, she wanted to tell him. But whenever she’d come close, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud, knowing they would only cause him more pain. “Grant’s always had a difficult relationship with his dad. How would he feel if he knew his mom had blackmailed me into keeping silent about his son?” Eliza shook her head. “No, I couldn’t tell him. I don’t want to come between the one parent he feels remotely close to. I’ve hurt him enough.”

  A loud crash drew their attention to Colt dancing around a tipped bucket, small, yellow balls spilling around his feet.

  His head down, Colt scrambled to scoop them back inside.

  Eliza’s breath hitched.

  How much had he overheard?

  Grant shifted the oversize stuffed dragon Ben won knocking over bowling pins with a watermelon to his other arm, grateful it wasn’t a goldfish. The cartoonish eyes seemed to mock him, as though the dragon knew Grant’s palms weren’t sweaty due to the warm rays of sunlight filtering through the wispy clouds. But rather, because he and Eliza were walking across the town square on their way to spill the big news to Ben. “What are you going to call him?”

  “Claude.” Ben didn’t even pause to think. Or tear his attention from his giant cone of cotton candy.

  “Claude the Dragon, huh?” Grant cocked his head, studying the goofy expression of the floppy-eared creature. “I guess that works. But why Claude?”

  “Because I like his paintings best,” Ben said simply.

  Grant scrunched his features in thought before his eyes widened. “Claude Monet?” His gaze flitted to Eliza, who stared straight ahead as they wove through the crowd, her cheeks tinged pink.

  Ben nodded. “Mom’s been teaching me about famous people who like to paint, just like me. Do you know Claude? His paintings are really pretty.”

  “I’ve heard of him.” Grant hid a smile, stealing another glance at Eliza. His heartbeat sputtered strangely at the thought of Eliza sitting down with Ben, pointing out paintings by one of his favorite artists.

  It wasn’t fair that every time he decided it would never work between them, she did something to weaken his resolve.

  When they reached the courthouse, they climbed to the top step and sat down with Ben in the middle. Nervous tension sizzled between Grant and Eliza, but Ben seemed oblivious to everything except his sugary treat.

  “Ben…” Eliza began softly. “Grant and I have something important to tell you.”

  Grant considered placing the plush toy on the step below, but couldn’t bring himself to set it down, grateful for something to occupy his fidgety hands. He also couldn’t stop swallowing profusely. Why was his mouth so dry?

  Ben gazed up at his mother, a sticky ring of pink sugar around his mouth.

  “You like Grant a lot, don’t you?” Eliza asked without looking in Grant’s direction.

  “Yeah.” Ben plucked another clump of cotton candy, stuffing it in his mouth.

  “I’m glad because…” Eliza hesitated, and Grant noticed a slight twitch in her jaw. For a moment, compassion washed over him. While his own heart felt permanently lodged in his throat, he could only imagine how difficult this was for her.

  “Because… Grant is your dad.”

  They both drew in a collective breath, waiting for Ben’s reaction.

  He tilted his head toward Grant, his dark eyes glinting with curiosity. “You are?”

  Grant swallowed again, clutching Claude for moral support. “Yes.”

  Yes? Yes? Is that all he had to say? Say something else, you dolt.

  While Grant mentally berated himself, Ben’s eyes remained locked on his face, his expression unreadable.

  After five seconds that felt like forever, Ben said, “Okay,” and gathered another wad of cotton candy.

  “Bug, do you understand what we’re telling you?” Eliza’s gaze briefly met Grant’s, exchanging a flicker of uncertainty, before returning to her son.

  “Grant’s my dad,” Ben said matter-of-factly.

  “And do you understand what that means?” Eliza pressed.

  “I have a mom and a dad.”

  A chuckle rose from somewhere inside Grant, and he coughed to keep it from escaping. Leave it to a seven-year-old to uncomplicate the matter.

  “Are you going to come live with us now?”

  Grant nearly choked. Scratch that. Ben had just made things a million times more complicated. “Um…” He looked to Eliza for help.

  A shadow of sadness darkened her features before she forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No, he’s not coming to live with us. Grant would like you to visit him in San Francisco for the summer. You two can hang out and get to know each other better. Grant even found an art camp that I know you’ll love.”

  “Art camp?” Ben sounded intrigued.

  “Yeah, you go for a few hours every day and they have really cool art projects for you to make. The city also has a ton of parks, museums, and a zoo.” Grant hated to feel like he was selling himself, but in a way… he was.

  Ben perked up at the mention of the zoo. “Do they have lions?”

  “Yep. And tigers and bears.” Grant caught himself before adding oh my! He glanced at Eliza, almost certain a microscopic smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. For an instant, a thin thread tied them together, and Grant wanted to hold on to it for as long as possible.

  “Do you have any questions for us?” Eliza asked Ben, catching Grant off guard.

  Questions? What kind of questions? And what if he didn’t have the answer?

  Ben glanced between them, then shook his head.

  “Well, when you do, you can ask us anything, okay?” Eliza reached out and gently brushed Ben’s bangs aside, and the tender gesture stirred the dull ache in Grant’s chest again, the one that made it hard to breathe.

  A bell chimed, signaling the start of the dunk tank event, and Ben cheered. Jumping up, he raced down the steps shouting, “I’m going to dunk Uncle Luke!”

  Eliza cast a sideways glance in Grant’s direction, as though she wanted to say something but immediately thought better of it. Pushing off the cool, stone step, she brushed the loose dirt from her hands, then took off after her son.

  Grant watched her graceful form skip down the steps, then disappear into the crowd, realizing his heart went with her. He supposed it always would, leavin
g a hollow feeling in his gut.

  Glancing at Claude, he flashed a wry smile. “What do you think? Am I a hopeless case?”

  Grant tipped the dragon, and its floppy head fell forward.

  “Yeah… that’s what I thought.”

  Chapter 27

  Eliza huddled in her circle of friends, thankful the hoopla surrounding the dunk tank drowned out her deafening heartbeat. But as soon as Colt ascended the ladder, her heart stilled, dread constricting her throat as their eyes locked.

  He knew. She could feel it.

  She didn’t really care that he knew about Grant and Ben. The whole town would probably know in a matter of days. But the truth about Harriet…

  That needed to remain a secret. For Grant’s sake, at least.

  Raking in a calming breath, Eliza felt her anxiety abate. What did she have to worry about? Colt and Grant weren’t exactly close. It wasn’t as if the conversation would come up naturally.

  Eliza’s pulse steadied as Penny stepped up to the throwing line, tossing a small yellow ball high in the air, catching it with ease.

  “Perfect. I’ve never felt safer.” Colt grinned, exposing his endearing dimple.

  “You shouldn’t. I’ve been practicing nearly every day since you came back into town.”

  Colt laughed, but as Penny raised her eyebrows, his laughter floundered. “You’re serious?”

  She smirked, pulling her arm back into a pitcher’s pose. “Hope you’re ready for a nice, refreshing dip in the tank.”

  Luke, Jack, and Reed hooted and hollered in support.

  A flicker of doubt darted across Colt’s face, but his features quickly set in a cool, confident smile. “I am feeling a little hot.”

  He waggled his eyebrows, and Penny blushed before setting her jaw in a determined scowl.

  In one deft motion, the ball sailed from her fingertips, spinning with a velocity that belied her slender arms.

  The ball smacked the target with a definitive thud, plunging Colt into the icy water.