Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Yes,” I say, scolding myself for turning our morning into something heavy. “Let’s go make coffee and talk about the wedding.”
A few minutes later, Grayson has dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and headed into the kitchen. His departure feels abrupt and I’m concerned that there’s more going on with him, or even this Ri situation than I know. I quickly dress in jeans and a T-shirt myself, apply some make-up before throwing some product in my wet hair, making quick work of drying it. In between my rushed morning routine, I exchange text messages with my father, assuring him I’m doing well. Finally, I finger comb the brown strands of my hair to find it’s still damp, but my impatience to join Grayson has me leaving it this way.
Feeling that urgency, and the clawing sense of that man needing me, me and my soon-to-be frizzy hair hurry out of the bedroom and walk down a long hallway and round the corner to the grand living room that attaches to the kitchen. I find Grayson facing the marble island, hands on the surface, muscles bunched in his shoulders, his chin to his chest. I’m right. He’s not good. He took care of me after the shooting. He was a rock for me, but I haven’t taken care of him. That man stood there in a stairwell with Ri holding a gun to my head, afraid for me, and prepared to kill for me. How many women have a man who would kill for them? Or die for them?
I do.
I do and he’s an amazing man.
With soft steps meant not to startle him, I close the space between us, shocked when this man who is always in control of his surroundings doesn’t even know when I approach. I step behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. Or I intend to. Grayson catches me and pulls me in front of him, and suddenly I’m caged between him and the island, the intensity of his emotions crashing into me. “I want to keep you locked away,” he says, his voice low, rough, almost guttural, “to make sure no one can ever hurt you the way he intended to hurt you.”
And there it is, what I feared—his fear. My hand settles on his jaw. “I’ve told you this, but I’m going to say it again. None of us can control how long we walk this earth, but if anything ever happens to me, I’ve had the best damn life anyone could want for. Because of you. That’s how we have to live. Every day we have to be all-in, all the way.”
His forehead settles on my forehead. “I keep seeing that gun in his hand, at your head.” He cups my face and tilts my gaze to his. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you. How are you?”
“It’s not just about me, Grayson. It’s about you, too.”
“How are you?” he repeats. “How are you really?”
“Remarkably good, but you’re not.”
“If you’re good, I’m good.”
My rejection is instant. “No. No, you’re not. And I’m probably not, either. I have some sort of barrier up, a wall that I’ve pushed all this behind. I’m not sure which is better. You with no wall or me with one that isn’t allowing me to deal with this at all. I wish—” so many things, I think.
“You wish what, baby?” His voice is softer now, velvet meant to soothe my nerves. He is always about me and that is why I have to be about him. He needs that. He deserves that.
“I wish we could be here for weeks on end and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. But I also wish for our life back, completely back. I want to be in our apartment. I want to live our life. I want to find our routine again. There’s security in those things, Grayson.”
“There is,” he agrees. “But when we go back, the press won’t be gone. This Ri situation won’t be gone. Are you sure that you’re ready for that?”
“I have a deep need to be past this. I want to ride this storm and get past it. And your staff needs to see you. They need to know Ri and his attacks on your firm have no impact.”
He skims fingers through my damp hair. “You’re sure?”
“I am,” I say, but again, I’m cautious not to make this just about me. “What do you want, though?”
“You. All I want is you, safe, and happy.”
“You have me, safe, and happy. So, we go back?”
“Yes,” he agrees. “We go back.”
I kiss him and smile. “Good. I can show off my ring.”
This earns me his smile and I watch the tension in his shoulders slide away. I’ve made him happy. And that is what I want.
Chapter forty-eight
Mia
Grayson and I sit at the island facing each other, sipping our coffee and talking about his father, with shared smiles and laughter between us. It’s a magical moment in time that has successfully crushed those demons that he’d been battling upon my entry into the kitchen, and left me with the man I love. The man who cares about people. The man who is filthy rich and never acts as if he deserves it. The man who would die, and literally kill for me, and yet, I’d dared doubt him. I do not believe I will ever forgive myself for slighting our love in such a way. I’m fighting the need to ask him if he’s sure he will when his cellphone buzzes with a text message.