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“We need to redecorate,” Skye says, literal seconds after Grant drops his duffel bag onto the floor of the guest room.
Not the guest room. His room. He lives here, until Skye decides she doesn’t need a nanny anymore.
He looks at her, then back to the bed. It’s a simple full-sized bed with a nice, wooden frame and clean mint green sheets. He likes it just fine. “I don’t think it really matters.”
“Of course it does,” Skye says. “This is your space, now. It needs to feel like you live here.”
“Oh,” Grant says, studying the walls. “But it’s um, it’s your home.”
“You live here too,” Skye points out. “We agreed.”
“I just didn’t think I’d be making such a dent,” he says.
Skye nudges him with her elbow. “I mean, it’s also boring as hell in here,” she says. “And you’re not boring as hell. So it doesn’t suit you.”
He’s not? It doesn’t? He feels very embarrassed for some reason. “I’m not much of a decorator.”
“It’s easy,” Skye says. “You just like, buy some pillows and some pictures and some new sheets. It’ll be great!”
“So I’ll order it online, then?” he asks.
Skye turns to him, eyebrows all scrunched. “What?” she says. “No! We’re going shopping!”
“We?” Grant asks. “Like, you’re going to buy the bedding?”
“Yes, Grant,” Skye says. “I’m going to pay for the stuff.”
He looks like he’s about to protest, and Skye quickly presses a finger to his lips, which sets off a whole different chain of emotions.
“No takebacks!” she declares. She stares up at Grant for a moment, grinning, before realizing what she’s done. She pulls her hand back, runs it quickly through her hair. “I mean, you live with me now. You take care of me and Phillip and I’m going to look out for you, too.”
He smiles at the floor, as softly as he can.
She nudges him in the ribs again. “Go get the baby carrier,” she says.
“You’re not calling Phil?” Grant asks.
Skye shrugs. “Do you mind bringing Phillip along?”
“Never!” Grant answers. “I just wasn’t sure if you- That you-” She’s staring at him and he cannot, under any circumstances, finish his sentence. It’ll sound like he thinks she’s a bad mom. Which he doesn’t. At all. “I’ll go get the baby bjorn.”
She nods. “Let’s rock this bitch.”
He gives her a look, and she immediately smacks her lips together. “Right. Sorry.”
He laughs first, and she shoves him on the arm. “We’re fine,” she says. “We’ve got this.”
He hopes she’s right.
“Feel this,” Skye demands loudly, right there in the middle of Bloomingdales.
Grant tentatively reaches out to touch the blanket Skye’s shoving at him. “It’s really soft,” he says. “Like, surprisingly so.”
Skye gives a winning grin. “I know, right?” she says. “It’s cashmere.” Phillip reaches towards the blanket, too, since it seems to be the important object of the moment.
“Aw, Phil,” Grant says. “He wants to help pick out blankets!”
“He’s just grabbing for it because he saw you do it,” Skye says. “He mimics you all the time.”
Grant stares down at Phillip. His curly hair, his little arms reaching for the light blue blanket. “He’s just curious, is all.”
Skye pulls the blanket a little closer to her chest. “I don’t want him puking on it, though,” Skye says. “Not until we’ve decided what color we want. Unless you want more than one?” She rubs the blanket lightly against her cheek. “Maybe I should get you three or four.”
“I’m fine,” Grant says. “Really. I don’t even need one cashmere blanket. I’m sure it’s expensive.”
Skye takes a moment to look at the price tag. She shrugs. “It’s fine.”
Grant absentmindedly holds up his finger, so that Phillip will have something to grab. Since Skye isn’t giving him the blanket. Phillip takes Grant’s index finger and moves it to his mouth, gumming at it happily. “Skye,” Grant says. “How much is it?”
“Really not that much,” Skye says. “I’m thinking we should also get a black one and a white one?”
“Maybe switch light blue for dark green,” Grant says. “And white for grey.”
Skye wrinkles her nose. “That’s kind of drab,” she says.
“Yeah, but it’s easier to hide spit-up on dark colors,” Grant says.
“These blankets are for you though,” Skye says. She switches out the light blue anyway. “Not Phillip.”
“But what if he wants to sit on my bed?” Grant says. “I don’t want you to worry about him making a mess.”
Skye purses her lips, glances at Phillip like she’s looking for an answer. “Grant,” she says, ruffling Phillip’s hair. “First: he’s going to make your finger get all pruny.”
Grant shrugs.
“Second,” Skye continues. “I mean, I don’t mind if Phillip makes messes. Babies make messes. But you’re allowed to have your own room to sleep in.”
Grant runs his free hand along the stack of cashmere blankets. Idly fidgets with the price tag. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a dollar sign, followed by far too many digits. “Skye,” he says. “That can’t be the price.”
She looks over to his hand. “Yeah, that is,” she says. Like she’s not even stunned by it.
“Well, I guess that solves the blanket issue,” Grant says, reaching for the blanket that Skye is holding. “Since I’m not getting cashmere blankets.”
Skye turns her chest away from him. “Yes, you are.”
“Skye,” he says. “I don’t need them. And they’re way too expensive, and we’ve barely gotten started shopping.”
“But you like them,” Skye says. “You liked them before you knew how much they cost!”
“And now I know how much they cost and I don’t like them anymore,” Grant says. “So if you could just put that back, we can go find different blankets.”
Skye doesn’t budge.
Grant sighs. “Skye…”
“They’re for me, then,” Skye says. “You certainly wouldn’t mind me spending that on myself, would you?”
“You could get yourself every color,” Grant says. “If they were for you.”
Skye smirks at him. “I think I will,” she says. She stacks them into her arms, until she’s got all seven.
“Skye,” he says. “Give me those.”
“No,” Skye says, attempting to hug the pile of blankets. It’s a little too big for her arms. She almost drops a couple of them, but quickly recovers with a huff and a defiant grin. “You’ll just put them back.”
“I won’t,” he says. “But you shouldn’t have to carry all of them.”
“You’ve got a baby strapped to your chest,” Skye says. “I think I can handle some blankets.”
“I can tuck them under my arm,” Grant says.
“It’s fine, Grant,” she says. “I’ll like, put them on hold behind the counter or something. Since we still have to buy you a comforter and sheets and ooh,” she says, eyes widening. “Decorations!” She inches closer to him. Her eyes widen with glee. God, she’s so beautiful. “Knickknacks.”
Phillip reaches for the blankets again. And Skye is currently too distracted by the prospect of buying Grant knicknacks to stop Phillip from pulling the closest blanket right into his mouth.
“Phillip!” Skye says, realizing her mistake.
“Oh,” Grant says, lightly tugging the blanket away from Phillip. “He didn’t mean to, I’m sure that it’s not a big deal-”
“Grant,” Skye says, wiping spit off the bit of fabric. “It’s totally fine. I was gonna buy them anyway.”
Grant strokes Phillips soft hair, to keep him calm. Babies don’t like having their toys taken away. Even when it’s not technically theirs. Or a toy. “But they’re so expensive,” Grant says.
“So?” Skye says. “It’s not like I can’t afford them.”
“I know that,” he says. “It’s just-”
“I want you to have these,” Skye says. “Like, I know we did the back and forth of ‘are these for me or you?’ but they’re for you. And I really, really think it would be nice for you to sleep with one or two of these.”
He touches the fabric again. It is really soft. And arguing with Skye is getting him nowhere. “I want you to know I’m not approving of your purchase,” he says.
Skye tilts her head. “What’s wrong with you?” she asks. “Do you really hate them that much?”
“What if I spill something on them?” Grant says. “What if I don’t wash them properly?”
Skye’s expression shifts to something less teasing. Something sadder. “You think I’m going to hold this over your head?”
Grant doesn’t respond. He just stares at Phillip’s curls. The light brown whirls that cover his tiny head.
“Grant, I’d put a reassuring hand on your shoulder if I wasn’t carrying seven blankets,” Skye says. He doesn’t reply, and she sighs. “That was a joke.”
Grant meets her gaze. “Oh.”
“I’m not getting these to use them against you,” she says, quietly. “I’m getting them because you deserve a little luxury. You take care of a baby practically 24/7.”
“Which is the best job in the world,” Grant says. “And which I would do with our without luxurious presents.”
“Grant,” she says. “Trust me. Can you please, please trust that I’m not going to hurt you? I’m trying to help,” she says. “I feel like you really don’t want it, but I want to keep trying anyway.”
He doesn’t know what to say. He’s just. He feels the warmth of the baby strapped to his chest and the unabashed hope in Skye’s eyes and he just…He’s kind of lost. “You want to help me?”
“I want to make you feel at home,” Skye says. Something else is flits across her features. Something Grant can’t really pick up on. “Is that okay?”
He reaches out for the top blanket. Spreads his fingers. It’s soft. And it feels kind of home-y. “It’s okay.”
She beams. “Good,” Skye says. “Okay, good. Do you feel up to knicknacks, still?”
Grant slowly nods. “If Phillip’s not getting cranky or tired.”
Skye looks to her baby. “He seems happy enough,” she says. “You’re carrying him, so he’ll be fine.”
Skye has a lot of faith in Grant. More than he thinks he’s really worth. But he just gives her a soft smile.
“So,” Skye says, returning the expression. Her hair’s fallen out of place, and she doesn’t have a free hand to fix it. “Knicknacks?”
Grant wishes he could tuck her hair behind her ear for her. But she’d definitely freak out and fire him. It’s not his place to do that kind of thing.
“Sure,” he says. “Of course.”
So. There’s a lot of glass. Everywhere. In goblet form, in bowl form, in figurine form. And Grant’s glad Skye is enjoying herself, but she’s very small and doesn’t have a baby strapped to her chest. Grant is 99% sure he’s going to knock something over before this trip is over.
And everything looks really, really expensive.
“Look!” Skye says, plucking a figurine from its display. “It’s a wittle kitten!”
It looks incredibly fragile. Grant just stares down at it. “It’s not really my style,” he says. “Not a big cat person, actually.”
Skye eyes his expression with an amused little grin. “You’re a dog person?”
Grant feels like he’s being teased. He doesn’t mind it, when it comes from Skye. “Yeah,” he says. “I um…I really like dogs.”
“Never had one,” Skye says, with a shrug.
“That’s surprising,” Grant says.
Skye puts the figurine down, moves on to the next one. A giraffe. She picks it up, examines it in the light. “Why is that surprising?”
“Because you’re so nice,” Grant explains. “And nurturing.”
Skye pulls her attention away from the giraffe to make a quizzical face at Grant. “You can be those things without having had a dog,” she says.
Grant tilts his head. “It doesn’t hurt,” he says.
Skye just grins back at him. “God,” she says. “You’re so-” She doesn’t complete her thought. She just chews on her lip, shakes her head.
“I’m what?” Grant asks, watching her put back the giraffe.
“Don’t worry about it,” Skye says. She’s holding his wrist, pulling him and Phillip over to another section of figurines.
“Um,” Grant says. “Okay.”
“There,” Skye says, stopping in front of a locked case. “That one’s a dog.”
Phillip presses his hand to the case.
“No, baby,” Grant says, moving Phillip’s hands away. “Don’t touch.” He takes a small step back, to keep the case out of reach. Phillip strains his little arms towards the glass, wiggles his fingers to no avail. “It’s germy,” Grant says. “And too fragile.” Phillip doesn’t listen. He just reaches.
Grant hears the telltale sniffle of an incoming tantrum. It’s followed by a few soft cries.
Skye turns her attention to the baby. “Phil,” Skye says, gently. She kisses Phillip on the head. “You’re being so good. Don’t cry.” She’s entirely in Grant’s space, practically standing on his toes.
Phillip cries again, and Skye kisses his cheek. Wipes away a stray tear. “What’s wrong, baby?” She lightly tickles one of his socked feet with her index finger, trying to get a smile.
“Maybe he’s hungry?” Grant says.
“I think he just wants to touch the glass,” Skye says, moving her tickling to the other foot. “He’s not used to you saying no.”
Grant frowns. “I’m sorry, little peanut.”
Skye snickers. Phillip won’t understand what it means. Not when she makes a wide-eyed face at him like that. Phillip loves that face. It always makes him squeal with delight.
He pulls on Skye’s hair, giving a gummy smile. “See?” Skye says. “Good as new.”
“Maybe we should get out of this section,” Grant offers. “I don’t think it’s a good place to have a baby.”
Skye stands back up to her full height, offering Phillip her finger to pull on instead. “Just let me get you that glass dog and we can go.”
Grant feels the overwhelming urge to bolt from the glass section. “I don’t need a glass dog.”
“It’s cute!” Skye says. “And you love dogs!” She’s signaling for a salesperson already.
“It looks really expensive,” Grant protests, as the salesperson opens the case. How did they even get here so quickly? “Is that dog really expensive?” he asks, as its pulled from the case.
The salesperson names some outrageous price. It makes Grant feel more nervous than it should. But it’s very, very expensive.
“Skye, you can’t get that for me,” Grant says. “It’s an obscene amount of money.”
She’s not listening, because she’s Skye Coulson, and she’s probably the most stubbornly determined person Grant’s ever met. It’s just unfortunate that she’s determined to waste money on him.
“Look at how cute it is,” Skye says, showing it to Grant. It’s resting on the flat of her palm, a little dog with brown ears and a black nose. “I’ll even let you name it.”
Grant’s going to protest again. He is. But Phillip tries to grab the dog in Skye’s hand before Grant can stop him.
Skye tries to steady the figurine in her palm. Phillip, naturally, hits it again. He’s strong for a baby. Strong enough to send the glass figurine out of Skye’s hand and onto the floor. Where it shatters into about a billion pieces of sparkling, useless glass.
Grant doesn’t breathe. He forgets how. His arms are wrapping around Phillip, forming a barrier between the baby and anyone who might yell at him. He twists his chest away from the scene, takes a step back. Away from the glass. Away from the horrible, horrible mistake.
“He didn’t mean it,” Grant says, before Skye can even speak. “It was an accident.”
That little dog cost $1000, and now it’s broken. Phillip doesn’t even know he did anything wrong. He didn’t mean to.
“Don’t punish him,” Grant continues, as Skye stares at him. “It’s my fault, anyway. I wasn’t paying enough attention, and I’ll pay for it. I will. You can dock my salary or make me pay now or-”
“Grant,” Skye says. “It’s okay.”
Grant exhales. She doesn’t look mad. She still could be. But she doesn’t look it. “I’ll pay for it,” Grant repeats.
Skye just shakes her head. “It’s my fault,” Skye says. “I was trying to show it off when I knew full well you had a baby strapped to your chest.” She looks down at the glass and sighs. “And you didn’t want it, anyway.”
“I’m sorry,” Grant says.
“Don’t be,” Skye says, meeting his eyes. “Please don’t be sorry or anything like that. It was my fault, not yours. I’m paying for it.”
“You can’t,” Grant says. “It was supposed to be for me, and I’m watching the baby, and I let this happen.”
“It was an accident, Grant,” Skye says. Her hand is on his arm. He doesn’t even flinch. “They happen. No one’s going to get in trouble.”
“What about you?” Grant says. “Won’t they kick you out of the store?”
Skye smiles at him. Brilliant. Confident. It makes him feel so much better all at once. “I’m a billionaire,” she says, like it’s something low-key. “They can’t.”
“Oh,” Grant says.
She’s running her thumb along his bicep. “Sorry,” she says. “That was snobby.”
He shakes his head. “But true.”
“Why don’t you go to the baby section?” Skye says. “I’ll pay and meet up with you there. And then we’ll go buy you sheets and pillows.”
Phillip is okay. No one’s going to hurt him. Grant can relax his arms. Which he will do any second now. He smiles softly down at Skye. “Okay.”
Her hand leaves him, returns to her side. She sticks it quickly into the pocket of her jeans. For a moment, she looks sheepish. Sly. But he’s almost positive that it’s a trick of the light.
“I’ll find you soon,” Skye says.
He nods. Turns to leave.
“And Grant?” Skye says. He’s lowered his arms. She’s touching his wrist. “Don’t get Phillip any toys. If he likes something, put it aside and I’ll get it for him.”
“Of course,” Grant says.
“You hear that?” Grant says to Phillip. “No toys until mommy gets there.” He’s glad Skye’s not with them, at the moment. So she can’t see the conspiratory little grin Grant has on his face. “But you know,” Grant says, stroking Phillip’s curls. “Do stuffed animals really count as toys? I think plush is an entirely different category.”
Phillip gurgles. He clearly agrees. Or is just thrilled to be surrounded by bright colors and soft fabrics. Grant spots a brown, stuffed dog. Absentmindedly runs his fingers against it.
“What about this one?” Grant says, holding it up. “Do you like this little guy?”
Phillip takes the dog from Grant’s hand. Wraps his own tiny hands around it, holds it to his chest. Satisfied, Phillip pulls the dog to his mouth and immediately slobbers on its ear.
“So it’s a keeper, then,” Grant says. “Your own little Buddy.”
Phillip chews on stuffed Buddy. Maybe Grant should’ve let Phillip pick its name. But Phillip didn’t even know names yet, not really. Besides. Buddy’s a good name.
“Anything else?” Grant says. He hasn’t checked the price tag on the dog but he has a sinking feeling it’s going to be just as unnecessarily expensive as everything else.
But he wants to get it for Phillip. He really, really does. Skye pays him well enough. And she shouldn’t have to buy everything today.
“Come on,” Grant says, grabbing a couple of bibs on his way to the register. “Before Mommy catches up with us.”
It feels nice, doing something for Phillip. Grant knows he appreciates it. Even if he doesn’t understand appreciation, either. He’s little.
“He looks like you,” the salesperson says, as Grant approaches the register.
Grant looks around, for a moment. Then looks down. “Phillip?” Grant asks.
“Yeah,” they continue. “He has your eyes.” The salesperson seems completely serious about it.
He’s not sure what to say. Does he correct them? “I’m,” Grant says, then stops. Maybe he shouldn’t. “He looks more like his mom, really,” Grant says. “Those are her eyes.”
“He’s very cute,” the salesperson says. They give Phillip a quick smile. Phillip is distracted by his new Buddy, but Grant appreciates it.
“Thank you,” Grant says, feeling himself flush. He’s lying. He’s a lying liar who lies. This is not his baby. “How much for the dog?”
Skye finds them over by the picture books, where Grant is happily reading ‘If I Were a Puppy,’ out loud.
“Tell me you didn’t already buy that,” Skye says, glancing at the stuffed dog. Phillip hasn’t let go of it once, which Grant takes as a good sign.
Grant smiles at her. “I might have.”
She makes a face that is probably supposed to be frustrated. It comes across as endearing. The most endearing face ever, probably. “I told you not to,” she says. Not really mad at all.
“Yeah but,” Grant says. “He really wanted it.”
“Really?” Skye says. A smirk appears on her lips. “Out of all the stuffed animals, he picked a dog?”
Grant raises an eyebrow. “Yep,” he says. “He loves dogs, too.”
“This is indoctrination,” Skye tells him. Her smile is so pretty. So teasing and lighthearted. And Phillip is so happy. So Grant is, too.
“You caught me,” Grant says. “I named it for him, too.”
“I may never forgive you for this,” Skye says. She rustles Phillip’s soft hair. “Converting my baby into a dog person.” She always looks at Phillip with such fondness. Such love. She’s such a good mom. “What’d you name him?”
“Buddy,” Grant says.
“Wow,” Skye says, tilting her head up to look at him. “Were Rex and Fido already taken?”
Grant lets out a little huff. “Buddy is a good name,” Grant says.
“It’s cute,” Skye says. She looks like she might say something else. Instead, she just nibbles on the inside of her cheek for a moment. “We should go look at sheets,” she says. “I’m thinking you’re a plaid kind of guy.”
“Um,” Grant says. “Not particularly.”
“Well I don’t know if Ralph Lauren makes sheets with dogs on them,” Skye says. “But I guess we’ll go find out.”
Three sets of sheets, a new pillow, two comforters, and one throw pillow with a pug embroidered onto it later, they end up across the street. The entire café area looks like it’s been dipped in candy, which is probably intentional. And Phillip’s happy enough in his high chair.
“I need to tell you something,” Skye says, staring at Grant over her absurdly sweet-looking beverage. It’s like, birthday cake ice cream made into a hot chocolate. It’s very weird.
“Okay,” Grant says, poking a spoon at his ice cream. Just a scoop of mint with chocolate sprinkles. Simple. And it won’t make him ill. He has no idea how Skye’s going to drink that whole thing.
Skye scoots over towards him, sliding across the pink vinyl of the booth seat. “It’s very serious,” she says.
Grant shouldn’t be nervous. They’re sitting in a hyper-saturated candyland and eating sweets. It’s probably nothing.
“Okay,” Skye says. “I didn’t used to spend my days buying sheets at Bloomingdales. I used to be cool.”
Grant tilts his head. “What?”
“You know, we spent all day shopping like an old married couple,” she says. He feels a pang of something at her choice of words. She doesn’t notice. “So I’m worried you might think I’m, you know…” She lowers her voice. “Boring.”
Grant blinks. “You’re not boring.”
Skye stirs her hot chocolate. “I’m so boring now,” she says.
“You had a baby,” he says. “It’s good that you settled down.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Skye says. “I don’t regret him. I love him, but-” She pauses. “You really don’t think I’m boring?”
Grant almost takes her hand to reassure her. Almost. He catches himself. “You’re brilliant,” he says. “Smart. Talented. You’re not boring.”
“You’re just saying that because I pay you,” she says.
“I’m not,” Grant insists. “You’re the opposite of boring. You’re amazing.”
Skye’s eyes widen for just a moment. He’s gone too far. He’s blown it. She’s going to be totally creeped out now. “Thanks,” she says, softly. “I’m um,” she looks down at her drink. “I’m glad you think so.”
Phillip chooses that moment to pound his hands on his high chair.
Grant turns back to the baby. “Hey, little guy,” Grant says. “Do you want your Buddy back?”
Buddy is the only thing that isn’t being delivered from the store to Skye’s apartment. Phillip had carried the dog out himself.
Grant hands Buddy back to Phillip, even though the dog still has one damp ear. “Here you go,” Grant says. “Take good care of him.”
Phillip coos with joy and bangs Buddy against the high chair.
“Holy crap,” Skye says, beside Grant. She’s tugging on his sleeve. “Grant. You have to try this.”
He looks over to her, at the bit of whipped cream smudged on her lower lip. “Your drink?” he asks.
“No, Grant, try licking the table,” she says.
“Um-”
She pushes her drink over to him, causing a bit of it to spill over the sides. “Crap,” she says, pulling her fingers away. She pulls her index finger into her mouth.
“Should I still try it?” Grant asks.
Skye’s moved on to her middle finger. She nods.
He gently wipes off the sides of the glass before cupping it in both hands. It smells like chocolate and birthday cake and frosting. Kind of dizzying, actually. He presses the glass to his lips and realizes too late that he’s getting whipped cream on his nose.
Also, it’s so sweet that he actually feels a little nauseous, swallowing it down. He puts the glass down and tries not to look disgusted.
Skye laughs. She’s reaching towards him with her napkin, wiping the whipped cream off his nose. She pauses the moment she makes contact. “Oh,” she says. “Um. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s just not my kind of drink.”
Whipped cream cleared, she lowers her hand back into her lap. “I meant for um,” she pulls her drink back. “Never mind. Don’t worry about it.”
Grant’s about to press forward when Buddy the stuffed dog hits the side of his head. “Hey,” Grant says, picking the dog up from the table. He turns back to Phillip, grinning. “Did you throw this?” he asks. He shakes the dog in front of Phillip, which makes the baby laugh. “Is this your dog, mister?”
Phillip claps his hands.
“You made a good call,” Skye says. “He loves that dog.” She leans over the table, next to Grant. “Do you like your lil Buddy? Is he your bestest friend?”
Phillip strains for his stuffed pet, gurgling all the while.
“Here you go,” Grant says, handing Buddy over very carefully. “Remember not to-”
Phillip throws Buddy again, hitting Grant squarely in the nose.
“Saw that coming,” Skye says. He thinks he feels her shoulder brush against his, but he’s probably just imagining it. “Can I have some of your ice cream?” she asks.
“Sure,” he says, bouncing Buddy for Phillip’s entertainment. “Hey, Skye?”
“Yeah?” she replies, with a mouthful of ice cream.
He rests his chin on his shoulder. Meets her gaze. “I said thank you for today, right?”
“Like, thirty times,” Skye replies. “Don’t worry. You worry too much, actually.”
“Part of my job?” he offers.
“Nah,” she says. “You’re perfect at your job. Nothing to worry about.”
“Oh,” Grant says. Phillip is pulling Buddy away from him. Probably to throw it again, but Grant doesn’t mind. Not as long as Phillip is happy. “Thank you.”
Skye grins. “Thirty-one,” she says. “And don’t mention it.” She smiles at him, and her lips are tinged mint green.
She’s the prettiest person Grant’s ever known. Not even getting hit in the head with a stuffed dog for the third time could change that.
“Phillip!” Skye chides. But she’s laughing. So Grant laughs, too.