Something Right, page 3
The breakup in a way was easy at the end of that summer. I never even let him finish his sentence, just nodded in understanding. What hurt the most was that I was never part of any of his dream plans. And still, all my senior year of high school, I thought of him, and when he came back on winter and spring break, I fell into his arms willingly. No labels, just us. Then again my first year of college too.
My thoughts break when I hear him clear his throat.
“Right. Uhm, want to come in?”
The corner of his mouth curves up. “Kind of how these things go.”
I nod in agreement and wait patiently for him to walk past me. My eyes stay glued on him as I close the door.
He knows his way around, so he walks straight to the right to the living room, his woodsy scent leaving a trail that heightens my already-sensitive senses.
“I brought a bottle of white, Olive Owl, of course.” He holds up the bottle.
I bite my bottom lip and laugh softly under my breath. “I think I’ll hold off on alcohol for now. Maybe lemonade?” There’s a slight uneasiness to my voice.
He chuckles as if he knows my logic. “Sure. That works.”
I nod—shyly, I admit—and walk to the kitchen which is off the living room. As he grabs a seat at the kitchen island, I feel a bundle of nerves inside me. The coolness from the fridge when I open the door is a welcome re-stabilizer for my body and mind.
“Rosie’s asleep?”
I close the fridge with a pitcher now in my hand. I appreciate how he’s slowly easing into this conversation.
“Out like a log. It was a bit of a drive from Green Bay, but she was a trooper all the way.” I can’t help but gush over my daughter because she is the sweetest little nugget with such a kind heart.
“That’s good. Your grandparents still don’t want to leave Midwest winters?” Grayson asks as I hand him a glass.
“Nah. My parents try to convince them to move to Texas all the time, to no avail.”
I sit next to him on a stool and his presence so close is like a match sparking. Maybe he feels it too, as he glances away, as if he needs to calm himself in this situation.
He angles his head and his eyes narrow. “She’s a little artist.” He smiles affectionately.
Looking in the direction of his sightline, I see the fingerpaint and crayon drawings on the fridge. It’s hard to choose one to display, so I have a fridge full of about twenty different pictures, since no mother wants to throw away their child’s artwork. Every one is a little masterpiece.
“Yeah, she is. She’s into baking too.”
Grays looks at me with a subtle wicked smile. “You’re still into art?”
I know what he’s doing. A trip down memory lane. We met at the end of my sophomore year of high school in art class. I took it because I thought it would be easy, and he took it because he actually has design skills. Everyone knew who each other was, as our school wasn’t that big, but one accidental run-in at the paintbrush sink and that’s how we began.
“Never was that good at it, which is a shame, as I would love to be creative for her. You know, I always assumed you took art because baseball players were looking for the easy grades. But you actually have talent. How are you going to work from here?” I wonder, as four years ago he got a big promotion that set him in the big leagues of architecture, and he traveled all the time for work.
He sets his glass down. “I’m finishing up with a few clients online. In a few months, I need to assess my game plan. I mean, I could try working remotely since it’s all temporary until Lucy is off to college, but until then, I’m here. It was part of the terms my father set out.”
That thought makes my stomach curl, probably from disappointment. “Oh? Your move is temporary?”
Grays shrugs a shoulder. “I can’t say. All options are on the table. How’s work?”
“Not exciting,” I admit, and I feel like I have nothing to brag about compared to him. “Hospital administration isn’t what I had planned, but I work hours around Rosie's schedule, and the hospital has good benefits, plus the preschool is near there.”
In a different life, I was an ER nurse at the regional hospital. Then I got pregnant and stopped nursing all together. The shift schedule alone was a struggle, and I just wanted a structured day for Rosie and me.
A silence takes over, and I recall the last time I saw him.
All the thoughts hit me, and a feeling of my blood racing overpowers me. I nervously fumble with the edges of my sleeves.
He smiles to himself. “Breathe. You’re overthinking.”
I roll my eyes, as he’s right, and he knows it. Then he touches my arm, and our eyes meet.
It’s so warm. It’s so heartbreaking. It’s so fucking hopeful, and I hate this.
“So, I believe my words were ‘gripping the headboard is an optional activity’…” He has no qualms for taking an uneasy situation and making it more awkward, but it causes me to chortle.
“They were.” I shift on the seat so we can face one another, and the memory flashes in my head.
I shake my head at the thought, only to realize that Grayson is watching me.
“Remembering breakfast in bed too?”
Gently, I shake my head. I do remember, every minute of it.
But I’m not going to talk about the way we caught up and talked for hours or went over memories from when we were teenagers. Or the fact that he held me like we could have a future as two adults. Any hopes that it wasn’t a temporary fling went out the window when he packed up his bag and had to rush back to the city for a flight for work, and he kissed me tenderly goodbye, making it clear that was where his life was.
He has my full attention now, even more heightened when his fingertips circle the back of my hand resting on the counter.
I huff out a breath and feel the need to be bold. “This is probably when we get into the whole ‘I called you a few weeks later to tell you I was pregnant with another man’s baby’ recap. So, I think I am going to change my policy on the wine.” My tone has a little bite to it.
Sliding off my chair, I head to the cupboard to grab two wine glasses, only to finally assess him and the fixed yet subtle humored quirk of his lips.
“Wine is probably a good idea,” he adds.
Bad luck or fate decided to be cruel. That’s the only explanation for what happened.
Returning to him, I tip my head in the direction of the couch, and he follows. Getting settled on the sofa, we each take a sip of the dry white, which I must say, Olive Owl must’ve had a good year, as the wine is a perfect combination of crisp yet with a hint of fruit.
“I think I said, ‘Grays, you may hear that I’m pregnant, but don’t worry, it’s not yours because I’m too far along.’ And we haven’t spoken since, right?” I drink from my glass and decide to own all the uncomfortable details of that situation.
He nods slowly in agreement. “Yeah, it does ring a bell.”
I hoped and prayed when I went into the first ultrasound that this was fate’s sign for Grayson and me, only to be told how far along I was. I cried the entire appointment for so many reasons. Then the ultrasound made fresh tears burst because I fell instantly in love with the little human inside me.
“Rosie’s dad?” I can see he isn’t sure how to ask as he props an arm against the back of the couch.
“He signed away his rights and never met her. Can’t say I even know what he’s up to, as I haven’t spoken to Adam since then. It’s his loss not to know Rosie.” Disappointment seeps through my words. He lived a few towns over, and we had met at a festival. I felt relief that he wanted no part of my life but also anger that he wanted nothing to do with his biological child. Yet if anyone could be respectable about giving up parental rights then it was him, as he was only being honest about what he wanted.
“You’re doing well, B.” The softness in Grays’ tone causes me to slide my eyes up into his direction.
“How would you know?”
“It’s Bluetop and I’m a Blisswood. My rare occasions to the grocery store are a bombardment of updates about you from every person I meet in the cereal aisle, and my brothers have made a point to bring you into daily conversation.”
A smirk plays on my mouth. “Sounds about right.”
My head scans the unusually clean living room floor, with toys all in their correct boxes. I spent a good thirty minutes cleaning up before my equally long sweater-choice session.
The feeling of his hand tentatively touching my arm has me instantly melting. My eyes dart to the view of him connected to me through limbs.
“Now… we’re neighbors,” he almost teases.
“Yep. Look, can we just not make it complicated between us? We can be cordial, and I guess, well… cordial. That’s all we need to do, nothing more.” I don’t have any other gameplan for this situation and instead take another sip of wine.
He circles the liquid in his glass. “Do you cordially have wine with all of your neighbors? Mr. Bigsly on the corner of the street? Because I would say we have already moved past cordial. Or are you not enjoying wine with me?” He cocks an eyebrow at me as he rubs warmth into my arm.
“Let’s just agree, the occasional asking your neighbor for milk and hello on the driveway is our limit,” I suggest, and he looks at me a hundred percent doubtful.
“You’re going to break my sister’s heart. She’s thinks you’re amazing and even mentioned you’ve been throwing on your cheerleading outfit that we all loved back in the day.”
How is this possible? We went from a discussion about what went down between us to Grayson… flirting with me?
I smile to myself and snap my arm away from him. “Your sister isn’t part of the complication.”
“Lucky her.”
My palm goes out to stop him from imagining any inaccurate facts. “I have not and will not wear my old cheerleading outfit. I’m only helping out the girls since their coach is pregnant.”
His grin spreads. “Thanks for that correction.”
I can’t help it, but an old habit comes over me and I playfully slap his arm.
“Ouch. Okay, this is probably my cue to leave and check that Lucy hasn’t snuck out of the house.” He slowly stands with a beaming smile on his face.
“Is that a problem?”
“I don’t know, I’m only two weeks in. I have just accepted that all teenage shenanigans are on the table.”
Following him to set the wine glasses on the counter, I have to admire his willingness to take on the role of guardian.
“If she has her brothers’ genes then for sure it’s not going to be a breeze. But Lucy is a good kid and resilient too. She may just be the one chaperoning you three,” I say as I open the front door.
“Since I have neighbor like you, then yeah, she may need to ground me a few times.”
And fuck me, why does he have to lean against the inner door panel as he says that, with his look hot enough to start fires? A sexy smirk on display and… what? Is his shirt tugging along his chest? Because there is muscle definition happening.
Snickering under my breath, I brush past his quip. “Right. Anyhow, thanks for this chat.” In a move that surprises me, I offer him my hand for a shake because I have lost all thought.
Immediately, he takes my hand and pulls me to him, causing me to instantly sink into his arms which wrap around me for a hug.
Platonic or not, I haven’t been held like this by a man in years. I’ve missed it, but I’ve missed his presence perhaps even more.
We stay in an embrace for a good hot minute before parting. The back of his knuckles gently slide along my cheek as a parting move. I know this is our starting point for yet another chapter in our relationship, whatever definition it may be.
Grayson takes a few steps onto the porch then pauses before turning back to me.
“If it’s any consolation, I wish the way things happened last time went differently.”
His words hit me where it hurts. It could mean so many things, those words, and my heart feels like it belongs to him; it’s a moment of confirmation.
Looking off into the distance, I swallow a breath. “Me too.”
He lingers a few seconds longer than necessary before leaving. After watching him walk off, I close the door and collapse against the wood from slight exhaustion.
Rosie is my priority. My days of flings are long gone, and though my heart clings to a fantasy, I’m too strong to falter. Even when the feeling in the pit of my stomach reminds me of the secret wish that I harbor alone, I know I can do this.
But I can’t help but wonder why fate had to make Grayson Blisswood my new neighbor. Because he knows every path to my bedroom window, and just like when we were teenagers, he still has the ability to sneak into my heart.
4
GRAYSON
Staring across the horizon of green fields, I notice that I don’t have an aversion to all this family business talk. I thought I would be reluctantly listening all morning to my brothers explain crops, deliveries, and events scheduled.
Instead, I admire how great Olive Owl has become. Knox is the youngest of all of us but has worked hard from day one, ensuring we have the best produce around. He likes the rugged way of life, even if he doesn’t look the part. Ask him which cow needs a vet or which week to plant pumpkins and he knows all the details.
Bennett is standing next to me with arms folded. “This is going to be a good year. We’re all sold out for our weekend package in a few weeks.” He works more on the business side and is always insistent on having events at Olive Owl. And I have to hand it to him, the romance packages and weekend wine tastings sell like hotcakes.
I notice Knox smirk as he drinks from his bottle of water. “Going to replay the last time you were here for a weekend event, Grayson?”
I roll my eyes as we begin to walk back toward the main house. “Okay, lay it on me. You haven’t mentioned Brooke once today, and normally, ten minutes in you’ve mentioned her at least twice.”
“Lucy shared the gossip that you finally had the run-in with Brooke,” Bennett adds with flashing eyes.
“Yeah, Brooke and I said hello, and I met her the other night to catch up.”
Bennett and Knox look at one another, as if they’re debating who should speak.
“What?” I urge.
“Don’t mess with her, okay?” Knox reminds me.
“Yeah, we like her more than you,” Bennett adds, “and she’s a good person who doesn’t need her heart thrown around by you again. She’s a mom now. She’s helped us out with Lucy the past few years when Lucy needed a woman. There’s more at stake.” He opens the door to the main farmhouse that we had refurbished into a bed-and-breakfast with restaurant. I even designed the layout.
“I’m not going to be lectured by my younger brothers.”
We each take a spot at the table in the middle of the restaurant. We aren’t open for lunch every day, so we’re alone.
“Bennett is right. You can’t just waltz in here and slide into home base when you don’t even consider this place home.” Knox’s tone has an edge, slight annoyance too.
“It’s not that I don’t consider this place home. I’ve just lived a different life,” I clarify.
“Exactly. And unless you’re sure you want a change, then don’t mess around with her,” Knox reaffirms his earlier point.
“Maybe you’re being a little harsh, Knox. Those two deserve a chance.” Bennett turns his attention to me. “What’s the plan there? I mean, if you’re back and she’s here then maybe…” Bennett begins, and I feel like I should finish the sentence.
I’ve been thinking about it for days. I don’t have an answer other than she has a rope tied to me and she has no clue. I’m not sure I can stay away. Her daughter isn’t a deterrence either.
But I cop out on my answer. “No plan. Especially as she made it clear we should be neighbors only.”
“Ouch.” Bennett pats my back.
“Maybe a good policy,” Knox says. “Anyhow, she comes here a lot with Rosie. I let them see the animals and we normally have a coffee.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “Really, from my perspective, she can show up as many times as she wants.” Because wearing her down may be an idea. What’s the harm in a little flirtation to warm the waters?
“Morning, boys!” Helen’s chirpy tone catches all our attention as she arrives at our table. The woman in her fifties has worked with us for years on a part-time basis, more helping with guests than anything.
We all greet her, and she gives me an extra-overdone smile. “And?”
My brothers both laugh before leaning back in their chairs for the show.
I give Helen an inquisitive look.
“When I was at the dentist this morning, Sally-Anne told me that Brooklyn is back from visiting her family. I assume that means…”
“Christ, you are as bad as my brothers. Can we change the topic?”
Helen looks disappointed. “It’s a logical question, Grayson!”
I wave it off. “Relax. You’re not missing any gossip.”
“Fine, but you treat her right, Grayson. That woman is stronger than you think, and she deserves the best.” Helen shimmies off.
I should be offended that everyone holds me in such low regard. However, I know what they’re saying. Hell, I agree with them! And fuck it, I hate myself for the fact that a few of their points are true.
I’m the man who should have tried harder. Found a way to make distance work. Dragged her by the hand and found our way.
The drive back from Bluetop four years ago was the longest of my life because I knew the weekend with Brooke wasn’t the closure we needed. Instead, it reopened a wound and then threw alcohol on it. For weeks, I debated calling her and asking her to visit. I didn’t have an answer of how we would work, and even though I realized it didn’t matter, I was too late.
She was pregnant with someone else’s baby.
I’d never come back to Bluetop often before that whole episode, and I sure as hell came back even less after. I didn’t really want to see her with someone else’s kid.
