Love on the Dotted Line

Chapter 30: Overthinking and Shoulder Taps

Grace feels as jittery as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs after her chat with Rita. Rita's got that sharp, suspicious glint in her eye—like a detective in a crime drama. "What if she finds out the truth?" Grace mutters to herself, pacing like a hamster on a wheel. The thought makes her head spin faster than a merry-go-round.

Frustration and anxiety hit her like a one-two punch. Was Rita eavesdropping earlier when she and Maria were chatting? Paranoia takes over, and all sorts of wild scenarios pop into her mind. It's like her brain's throwing a chaotic party, and she's the unwilling host.

"That's it—I'm calling Dion," she decides, grabbing her phone like it's a lifeline. Any more overthinking, and she might just lose the plot.

After ringing Dion twice, he finally picks up. But instead of a calm, reassuring "Hello," she hears the unmistakable sounds of people laughing, loud chatter, and music blasting in the background. Her heart cracks a little, like an egg dropped on the kitchen floor. Here she is, drowning in her worries, while he's off living it up like he doesn't have a care in the world.

"Hello!" Dion shouts, clearly in the middle of a good time.

"I need to talk to you about something important," Grace says, trying to keep her voice steady, though it's wobblier than a Jenga tower.

"What's up?" Dion asks, but the party noise in the background makes it hard for her to believe he's really paying attention.

Grace takes a deep breath and starts spilling the beans. She tells Dion everything—what Kostas said, what Rita implied, and even how Ginna seems to have it out for her. By the time she's done unloading, she feels as wrung out as a sponge. She waits, hoping Dion's reply will be the soothing balm her frazzled nerves desperately need.

"Ah, okay. Don't worry about it," Dion says casually, like she just told him the weather forecast. "She's probably just trying to stir the pot. I'll handle Dad, don't stress."

Before she can say another word, he adds, "I gotta go," and, just like that, the line goes dead. No "How are you?" No "Are you okay?" Not even a crumb of concern.

Grace stares at her phone, her heart sinking like a stone in deep water.

She sits on the edge of the bed, her chest tightening as silent tears stream down her face. Everything feels so alien, so overwhelming. Her emotions are a tangled mess she can't even begin to sort out.

"All this... just because I'm broke," she whispers to herself, her voice shaky and raw. The thought cuts deeper, opening the floodgates. She cries harder, curling up on the bed like a small, heartbroken child.

—----------

Dion stumbles into the house around 11 p.m., the faint smell of alcohol trailing behind him. He's trying his best to be stealthy, but his clumsy footsteps give him away. Unbeknownst to him, Kostas is waiting, wide awake and ready to pounce like a lion guarding its territory.

As Dion sneaks through the dim hallway, Kostas steps out from the shadows, his expression as stern as a drill sergeant's.

"Dion, where've you been?" Kostas demands, his voice firm and unyielding.

"I... uh, I went to meet some friends," Dion stammers, scratching the back of his neck. "You know, I didn't even invite them to my wedding."

"So, why didn't you take your wife to meet them?" Kostas shoots back, crossing his arms like he's caught Dion red-handed.

"She... she's not very social," Dion mumbles, avoiding Kostas' intense gaze. "You know, she's shy."

"Shy?" Kostas says, his tone sharp as a knife. "She didn't even know where the hell you were. Are you cheating on her?"

"No! I'm not!" Dion blurts out, his voice rising defensively.

"You'd better grow up and start acting like a man," Kostas snaps, his words laced with frustration. "You're married now, not some carefree bachelor."

"Okay, Dad. Calm down. I'll tell her next time where I'm going," Dion says, holding his hands up like he's surrendering. But Kostas doesn't look the least bit pacified. His face is a mix of anger and disappointment, like a coach whose star player just fumbled a winning play.

Something feels off to Kostas, like a puzzle with a missing piece. But no matter how hard he thinks, he can't quite put his finger on it.

"Dad, don't worry. I'm not cheating. Can I go to my room now?" Dion asks, his tone edging toward impatience.

Kostas glares for a moment before giving a curt nod. "Fine. Go."

.............

Meanwhile, upstairs, Grace lies in bed, her body drained of energy, her heart weighed down by the day's chaos. Sleep finally comes, though it's restless and full of jumbled dreams, her mind tangled in knots. This house feels foreign, cold, and unkind—a far cry from anything she'd call home.

When Dion finally slips into the room, the sound stirs Grace from her uneasy sleep. Her eyes flutter open, her heart conflicted. Seeing him makes her feel a little better, like a flicker of warmth in a frosty room. But at the same time, a pang of sadness stabs her heart. Dion might be here, but he'll never truly understand her pain.

"You're asleep already?" Dion teases, leaning against the doorframe with a lopsided grin. "Didn't wait up for your husband like a good wife should?"

A small smile tugs at Grace's lips despite herself. "My mind was a mess after everything that happened today," she murmurs, her voice soft and tinged with exhaustion.

"You think too much," Dion says nonchalantly, shrugging like this is no big deal. "No one's going to find out what's really going on unless someone actually spills the beans." He leans against the wall, his casual demeanor annoyingly calm. "And nobody wants this to be exposed as fake. You know what'll happen if it is. So, even if someone suspects, they're not telling Dad."

Grace takes a deep breath, realizing that Dion has a point. His words settle her nerves, and she starts to feel a little better.

"I still feel so strange here," Grace admits, her voice small but honest.

"You'll get used to it," Dion says with a shrug as he heads to the bathroom for a shower.

Grace watches him disappear into the bathroom, and a mischievous thought pops into her head. She waits patiently, biting her lip in anticipation. Sure enough, Dion emerges moments later, clad only in a towel, his abs on full display like they're starring in their own movie.

Her eyes instinctively linger on his sculpted body. Dion notices and smirks, his playful grin making her cheeks burn red-hot.

"Caught you staring," he teases.

"I wasn't staring!" Grace protests, her voice squeaky as she quickly looks away. But the blush on her face gives her away.

"I need to sleep now," Grace says, trying to change the subject. "I've got lectures tomorrow."

"Oh, the lectures," Dion says, rolling his eyes dramatically like they're the most boring thing on earth.

"Well, you're going to the office every day, leaving me here to fend for myself with all the haters and detectives in your family," Grace grumbles. "Your dad's the only one who's remotely nice to me. But even he'll hate me when he finds out the truth." She lets out a frustrated sigh. "I hate this," she murmurs under her breath.

"Oh, come on, don't overthink it," Dion says, giving her shoulder a light tap, like that's enough to magically erase all her worries.

But Grace's heart doesn't budge. That little tap does nothing to ease the storm raging inside her. She wants more—something real, something comforting—to make all this go away. But deep down, she knows that's just wishful thinking.

"You don't understand," Grace murmurs, her voice heavy with exhaustion as she lies back on the bed. She closes her eyes, hoping sleep will offer the comfort she can't find in the waking world.