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)
“You have thousands of employees, including me, counting on you. You don’t have the luxury of leaving her out of this.”
“Find another way,” I order.
“Protect her, but keep an open mind. She could be the only person who can tear him down.”
“Find another way,” I repeat, and this time I stand up. “I will not have her feel as if I’m using her for my own gain or that I’m putting my well-being over hers.”
He stands. “Not yours. Thousands of employees.”
“And I damn sure won’t risk hurting her again,” I add as if he hasn’t spoken. “I love you, man, and you’re the brother I never had, but don’t push me on this. Not on Mia.” I step away from the table and head for the walkway down to the beach, with one destination in mind. The lighthouse, where I know Mia will be right now.
Chapter eight
Mia
The past, six months ago
Ipull up to the curb a few blocks from the Hamptons church and park the rental I picked up to get here from the city since I don’t own a car that I’d never drive anyway. No one owns a car in Manhattan who doesn’t have parking money to blow, and after growing up in a poor area of Brooklyn, I’m pretty sure I’ll never feel I have that kind of money to blow. It’s why I declined the car Grayson tried to buy me way back when. I didn’t need it and his money was never what we were about to me. I always wanted him to know that. I always felt he needed to know that.
I breathe a heavy breath and kill the engine, my hands gripping the steering wheel. I want to be here for Grayson, no matter what has transpired between Grayson and I, but I don’t know if I’m making this pain better or worse for him. I still love him. I don’t want to make it worse, but this was not expected. A heart attack is never expected. I need Grayson to know that I wanted to be here, even if he rejects me. Even if he has someone else by his side now.
I swallow against the dryness in my throat and step out of the car, slipping the slender black purse I’m wearing over my black dress, across my chest. I shove the door shut, and damn it, my knees are wobbling. I push forward and start walking, along with a good ten other people parked nearby. I can feel eyes on me, surprised eyes that know I was with Grayson and I’m not anymore, but I don’t care. I’m not here for them.
Once I reach the gorgeous white church, which ironically has three steeples just like Grayson’s father’s house just down the road does, I stand on the sidewalk and just stare at the door. It’s almost time for the service and there are no people lingering here or there, as I’m certain there would have been earlier. I make my way up the concrete path and then travel a good twenty steps. I enter the church, and as soon as I’m inside, Eric, dressed in a black suit, is standing in front of me, as if he’d seen me approach.
“Did he tell you to send me away?”
“No,” he says. “He doesn’t know you’re here, but he won’t send you away. He needs you.”
My eyes are already starting to burn. “Take me to him,” I whisper.
He motions to the left, and I follow him down a hallway to a doorway where we stop. “He’s alone.”
I nod and he opens the door. I inhale and shut my eyes, deep breathing for a few beats. I haven’t seen Grayson in six months, which feels like a century. I have so many hurt feelings with him but now is not about those feelings. I open my eyes and enter a compact prayer room to find Grayson standing in front of a cross with his back to me.
“Grayson,” I say softly.
His shoulders flex, his entire body tensing before he slowly turns to face me and even today, in a black pinstripe suit, his face etched in grief for a father he loved dearly, he is beautiful. “Mia,” he breathes out as if he’s seeing an illusion.
“Yes. I—I wanted to be here for you and him. I hope it’s okay. If it’s not—”
He’s across the room in a matter of two blinks and pulling me into his arms, his hand cupping my head, his mouth closing down on mine, and I’m consumed by his grief and need, by his hunger for something that is both physical and emotional. There is no part of me that holds back. No part of me that doesn’t want to give him what he needs.
“Don’t leave,” he whispers. “I need you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say. “I’m right here. I wanted to call sooner. I just didn’t know if I would make it worse.”