He gazed out the windshield of his blue Porsche, now parked directly across the street from Alexa's lobby, and tried to calm his pulse. He hadn't entirely worked out the pitch, but that was okay because he wanted to sound spontaneous. Who was it said, "Sincerity, if you can just fake that, you've got it made?" That was what—
"Hello."
Thank God she's picked up.
"Hi, sis, remember the sound of my voice? Long time, right?" Come on, he thought, give me an opening here. There was a pause that Grant Hampton thought lasted an eternity.
"You picked a funny time to call."
Is that all she has to say? Four and a half frigging years she shuts me out of her life, blaming me, and then ...
"Well, Ally, I figured there's gotta be a statute of limitations on being accused of something I didn't do. So I decided to take a flier that maybe four years and change was in the ballpark."
"Grant, do you know what time it is? This is Sunday and—"
"Hey, this is the hour you do your Sunday run, right? If memory serves. So I thought I might drive down and keep you company."
He didn't want to let her know that he was already there. That would seem presumptuous and probably tick her off even more. But by God he had to get to her.