by Vi Keeland
I looked up at Gray, who wore a wicked smile on his face. Feeling flushed, I averted my eyes, and since he was standing, they landed face to face with the topic of our conversation. He had on a pair of jeans with a zipper, but it was the bulge that caught my attention.
I stood abruptly and took the empty wine bottle from his hand. “I’ll throw this out.”
Needing a minute, I stood looking out the kitchen window over Etta’s sink. I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t heard footsteps entering the kitchen. But I definitely felt the body standing close behind me.
I didn’t turn around when Gray started to speak. His voice was low. “When I was in Otisville, I had to eat when I was told, shower at an assigned time, and I couldn’t leave the same old gray building for three years. Yet the thing that made me feel imprisoned, more than anything else, was not being able to touch you the way I wanted to when you were near me. And I don’t even mean feel you up or anything sexual. I just wanted to put my hand over yours when you fidgeted every week when the guard told you it was time to go, rub my thumb along your arm to get your attention when you’d looked away from me after I said something that hit home, brush the hair off your face when you laughed and a piece got stuck on your long eyelashes.” He paused. “I’m free now, but a big part of me still feels like I’m in prison.”
I closed my eyes. I remembered wanting nothing more than to have him touch me during all those months when I lived for Saturdays. The truth was, I wanted nothing more than to have him touch me right now. I couldn’t deny the attraction was still there. The rise in my temperature when he stood behind me was more than just radiating body heat.
I finally turned around. Gray made no attempt to back up, staying firmly planted in my private space and staring down at me intently. When I chanced looking up, our eyes met, and I allowed myself to get lost for a minute. Out of nowhere, I found myself asking something that had been bothering me since he pushed his way back into my life.
“On the last day I came to visit, I signed in on your sign-in sheet and saw a signature above mine. I couldn’t make out the handwriting of the name, but the word written in the relationship-to-inmate column was clear as day: wife. That’s how I found out. I was friendly with all the guards by then, so when I asked if it was a mistake, they confirmed it wasn’t and said she hadn’t been to visit in a while.”
I paused, remembering how I’d felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach that day. “Why did Max come to visit if you were already divorced…or annulled?”
Gray looked into my eyes. “My father had passed out at the office. The next day, they made the diagnosis of an inoperable brain aneurysm. One of his friends reached out to Max to try to get a message to me. He had no idea what had gone down between the two of us. She showed up. It was the first time I’d seen her since I’d told her I knew what she had done and was having our sham marriage annulled. I was curious to see what the hell would make her show her face. She walked into the visitor room. I told her not to bother sitting down and to say whatever she came to say. She smiled at me and said, ‘Your asshole father has a brain aneurysm. He’ll be dead before you get out.’ Then she turned around and strutted back out the door she came in. Haven’t seen her since.”
I looked down at my feet. “So the day after the woman who stole three years from your life showed up and told you your father was dying, I told you to go fuck yourself and walked away.”
When I looked up, a wisp of hair fell into my face. Gray reached out to push it away and stopped, pulling his hand back. “It’s not your fault. I should have been upfront with you about Max from the beginning. Then you would have given me the chance to explain her visit that day.”
I nodded, but his trying to take ownership didn’t make me feel any better about what he must’ve gone through. “I’m sorry, Gray. I really am.”
Etta came into the kitchen. I’d almost forgotten she was here. Gray took a step back.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but if I don’t turn the heat down on the gumbo, we’ll be eating out.” She walked over to the stovetop and took the large Dutch oven from the heat.
“What can I do to help, Etta?”
“You’re a guest. You go take a seat, and Gray will set the table.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He reached into the cabinet and pulled down the plates before taking out utensils. Clearly, he knew his way around the kitchen, and that warmed my heart a little. A grown man who still listened and quite obviously loved his childhood caretaker was a loyal one. And that meant more to me than all of the chemistry that still sparked between us.
***
I couldn’t remember the last meal I’d enjoyed so much. Yes, the food was phenomenal, but the company was even better. During dinner, Etta continued to tell embarrassing childhood stories about Gray, and Gray seemed to relax more than I’d ever seen him. He smiled with his full face, flashing his dimples, and laughed from a place down deep that was reserved for true happiness. Our eyes met a few times, and I didn’t tear mine away. Instead, I allowed the evening to just happen and had a better time than I cared to admit.
When Etta started to nod off in her chair while Gray and I shared cleaning up, I realized how long I’d stayed. “I should get going. I’ve been here eight hours, and Etta’s tired.”
Gray’s face fell. “I’ll walk you out.”
Etta’s eyes fluttered open when I went to get my purse. I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for an amazing meal and wonderful company, Etta. I’ll reach out to my friend at the traffic violations court to see if we can take care of your ticket without you having to appear.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. I hope you’ll come see me again soon.”
“I’d love that.”
***
Gray stopped me on the front porch. “Thank you for being so kind to Etta.”
“It’s my pleasure. She’s really great.”
“She is. Best thing I had in my life growing up. Even as an adult, I think she might’ve been the only one who never believed I’d done the shit I was accused of. Pretty sure my own father thought I’d done it. One of the worst parts of taking the deal was feeling like I let her down.”
I shook my head. “There’s no way you could ever let that woman down.”
Gray nodded, but I could tell he didn’t believe me.
We walked to the street where my car was parked. I unlocked the door, and Gray opened it for me, but I lingered before getting in. How was I supposed to say goodbye? A hug? A kiss on the cheek? A handshake felt awkward.
“Layla…” He stopped me before I’d sorted it out in my head.
“Yes?”
“Have lunch with me?”
“You mean like a date?”
“Or a non-date. Call it whatever you want. Just spend time with me.”
I looked down.
I shouldn’t. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to.
Screw it.
No. Think with your head, Layla!
But it’s just lunch.
There was no such thing as just anything with this man.
Yes.
No.
Yes. Why not? He deserves a second chance.
No. You’ll only wind up hurt.
What about Oliver?
Gray’s hand at my chin stopped my internal debate. I wasn’t used to his touch, nor was I used to the way my body reacted to such a simple gesture from him. My breaths increased, and I became aware of my rapid heartbeat. He gently tilted my head up, forcing our eyes to meet.
“You want what we had to be over, that’s fine. But give me a chance. Let’s start something new.”
I wanted to…I really wanted to.
“Just lunch…?”
“If that’s what you want, just lunch.”
I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the dumbest thing I could do was say yes. Which of course, didn’t stop me. “Fine. Just lunch.”
His face lit up like a kid seeing presents under the tree
on Christmas morning. “I’ll pick you up at eleven tomorrow.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
He smirked. “You don’t even know where we’re going.”
“Text me an address.” I started to get into my car, but Gray grabbed my wrist, stopping me.
He looked into my eyes. “I promise you’re not making a mistake.”
I wasn’t sure that was true, but I nodded anyway.
Getting into my car, I somehow managed to maneuver down the block without hitting anything. But once I was out of view of Gray Westbrook, I had to pull over to catch my breath. Putting my car into park, I leaned my head on the steering wheel. I’d just said yes thirty seconds ago, and already I had no idea what had possessed me to do it. Where had my common sense gone? Oh wait, I knew. It had been silenced by my blinding desire for the man, the same thing that had made me do stupid things a little more than a year ago, even under the watchful eyes of cameras.
Only this time…he was a free man, and there were no cameras…and nothing stopping us from doing all the things we had wanted to do to each other back then.
Chapter 14
* * *
Gray
I had stood before a judge and agreed to spend years locked up in a federal detention center, but I wasn’t as nervous then as I was walking down the street to meet Layla. Maybe it was because then I’d known that when I finally walked out, I’d be a free man again, ready to start over with a clean slate.
With Layla, though, I wasn’t so damn certain. If I blew it this time, there wouldn’t be another chance. And I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel free of her, even if she was done with me.
I arrived fifteen minutes early at the Starbucks around the corner from where I’d planned to take her and got both of us a coffee, another thing we’d never shared—a simple cup of fucking coffee—even though I knew exactly how she took it, because she’d written it in one of her letters.
She arrived right on time, and I stood next to the couch I’d made sure to grab because it was small and would mean we’d have to sit close.
“Hey.”
She looked as nervous as I felt. I leaned down and kissed her cheek. The smell of her skin had more of an effect on me than when I was a horny teenager and got to second base.
I’d told her to dress casual because of where we were going, but seeing her dressed in a pair of jeans, fitted pale blue T-shirt, and some sort of high-heeled sandal with ribbon tied around the ankle confirmed that my idea of what to do this afternoon was right for more than one reason. Her dark, wavy hair framed her beautiful face, and instead of the usual red lipstick, her beautiful mouth was its normal color, only glossier. But none of that mattered when I saw her nose.
I had to swallow to keep my eyes from tearing up like a goddamn pussy.
“Your freckles are back.”
She seemed flustered that I’d noticed and looked away. “I like to give my skin a break on the weekend. I’m going to grab some coffee. You want anything?”
I lifted the two tall cups from the table and extended one to her. “Blonde vanilla latte with extra vanilla syrup.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
My appointment wasn’t for another half an hour, so I motioned for her to take a seat. “We have a little time before we have to go.”
“Go? I thought we were where we were going. You said to meet you at Starbucks.”
“That’s right. Meet me at Starbucks. We have somewhere to go from here.”
“Where?”
I grinned. “That’s a secret.”
She bit her lip, a rare sign of nervousness, and sipped her coffee. I couldn’t help staring at her.
“You have to stop doing that?” she said.
“What?”
“Staring at me. It freaks me out.”
“All right.” I sat back into my chair and turned my head away from her. “So tell me what’s been going on over the last year.”
She elbowed me in the ribs playfully. “You know what I mean.”
I turned back to face her. “Yeah, I do. You want me to me act like you’re not all I think about, and that when I see you it doesn’t take every ounce of strength I have to keep from grabbing your hair and making you remember what our lips felt like pressed against each other.”
Layla took the slightest breath in, just shy of a gasp, but more than a regular inhale. She wanted to hide any effect I had on her. She looked away to break the moment before turning back, shaking her head.
“I made a list, you know.”
I sipped my coffee, knowing exactly what she meant. Everything needed to be thoroughly analyzed. “Lay it on me.”
“Pros,” she started and grinned. “Let me think. That was a much shorter list.”
“Easy now. I’m sure you’re just missing a few. That’s another reason we needed to spend some time together today. So I can help you balance that thing.”
“Maybe I’ll walk away with a whole bunch of new cons I hadn’t thought of after this.”
“You won’t.”
She rolled her eyes, yet smiled. “So cocky.”
I winked. “My cock definitely goes on the pro side.”
“That reminds me, I need to add pervert to the con side.”
I leaned closer. “Give me a chance to make good on the dirty things I say. You’ll move it to the pro side. I promise.”
“Will we ever have a normal conversation again?”
I smirked. “Again? Did we ever have a normal conversation?”
She sighed. “You have a point.”
“I’m just kidding. We did have good talks, Layla. You’re beautiful, but I’m not celibate after more than three years because I can’t meet a woman. We connected on a different level. I want you to give that a chance again.”
She nodded but didn’t look too convincing if she was saying yes.
“Would it make you feel better if I told you that you scare the shit out of me, too?”
Her lips parted, and she covered this time by bringing the coffee to her mouth.
I noticed a woman waiting for her coffee looking over at us and staring. Lifting my chin in her direction, I asked Layla. “Friend of yours?”
When she turned to look, her face and posture changed. It looked like she wanted to duck and hide under the seat. The woman waved, and Layla hesitantly waved back. “Shit.”
“Someone you don’t want to see?”
“It’s my half-sister.”
“From your father’s other…”
“Family. Yes.”
“She lives in New York?”
“She moved here a few months ago. And thinks we should be besties.”
I glanced over at the woman now walking toward us with her coffee. “Well, don’t look now, but your bestie is on her way over here.”
The woman had an irritatingly high-pitched voice. “Layla! I can’t believe I finally ran into you. I left you a few messages. I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”
“No. Just busy.” She pointed to me. “Even working weekends. I’m sort of in a client meeting.”
“Oh!” She looked at me, her interest piqued. “Lucky you.”
“But it was great seeing you.” Layla laid it on thick.
“You, too. I’m having dinner with Dad next weekend. You should join. He’d love to see you.”
Layla feigned disappointment like a champ. “Oh. Sorry. I’ll be out of town.”
The woman stuck out her bottom lip. “Okay. Well, I’ll let you get back to work.” She leaned down and went in for an awkward hug and air kiss. “I’ll call you!”
“You do that,” Layla said. “Take care.”
When she turned back around, her shoulders slumped. “I hope wherever you’re taking me, there’s alcohol.”
I looked at my watch. “It’s even better. You’ll love it. It will put a smile on your face and make you forget all about your crazy family. And you won’t have a hangover tomorrow.”
“I’m not sure I should trust you f
rom the sound of that…”
I winked. “I like the way you’re thinking. But you can trust me.” I stood and held out my hand to help her up. “Ready to go?”
She looked at it for a few seconds, hesitating before placing her little hand in mine. Even though she let go after she stood—when I wanted to keep it—it felt like progress that she’d taken it at all.
Baby steps.
Progress.
We were quiet as we made our way out of the coffee shop and up the street. I was just about to let her in on where we were heading to cheer her up, when she surprised me by opening up on her own.
“She’s really nice. I feel bad that I don’t want anything to do with her. But I just can’t bring myself to spend time with her.”
“It’s understandable,” I said. “She’s a constant reminder of something that’s painful for you.”
“But why doesn’t it bother her? Shouldn’t she see me the same way I see her? Just the fact that she wants to be friends makes me feel like something’s wrong with me for not feeling the same way.”
“Not everyone handles painful things the same way.” I paused and thought about whether I should share the example I immediately thought of. Deciding maybe it would help my case, I did. “Look at what I did with Max. It could have been as simple as telling you I was married once and had it annulled when you asked. But I didn’t even want to admit to it. I was embarrassed, and I hadn’t done anything wrong. There’s probably a little bit of you that feels the same about what your dad did.”
She nodded. “Yeah. All these years and only Quinn knows the truth of my parents’ odd relationship. And if I’m being honest, I had never even planned to tell her. His flight home on my sixteenth birthday got canceled, and I was upset that he was going to be with his other family on my day. Quinn and I got drunk, and I wound up telling her everything. I’d known what was going on for years by then, but I’d never said a word.”
I looked over at her and nodded. “Forget the mistakes others make; just learn from them. That was one of Etta’s mantras growing up. It’s scary how appropriate it is for my life right now.”