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)
“I need you,” is all he says, his forehead resting against mine, and he doesn’t speak or move.
We just stand there holding each other, time ticking by—seconds, minutes, I’m not sure how long—until Grayson breaks the silence.
“I golfed with him that morning. I was there when it happened. I couldn’t save him.”
I pull back to look at him and there are tears in his eyes. I reach up and stroke away the dampness on his cheeks, more in love with this man in this moment than I ever have been. He is strong, powerful, and wealthy, and yet, he is human, he is vulnerable. “Did you get to tell him you love him?”
“Yes. Over and over. I’m not sure he heard, though.”
“He knew. He knew.”
The door opens and Eric says, “It’s time.”
Grayson pulls back and looks at him. “We’ll be right there.”
Eric nods and exits. Grayson takes my hand. “I’m giving the eulogy.”
“As it should be,” I say.
He bends our elbows and pulls me close, his eyes meeting mine. “As it should be,” he says. He’s talking about me by his side.
“Yes,” I say, without hesitation. “As it should be.”
He brings our joined hands to his lips and kisses them before he guides me forward and we exit the room. Hand in hand, we enter the church, which is packed with hundreds of people and we walk down the center aisle with all eyes on us. We sit in the front row, and Leslie, his godmother, his second mother, who was his mother’s best friend, reaches around and squeezes my leg, her long dark hair pulled back at the nape, her blue eyes pained. I realize then that Grayson is alone but for her. His mother has been gone for five years. Now his father is gone as well.
Grayson doesn’t let go of me until it’s his turn to speak. He looks at me when it’s time and I cup his face. “As it should be,” I whisper, and he kisses me before he stands.
I listen to the heartfelt words about a man who inspired him, a man who was hard on him, but only because he wanted the best for him, and every word is true. “He was a hard man who expected honesty and ethics. He expected that I be the best and I do it with hard work and integrity.”
When Grayson is done there isn’t a dry eye in the church and the minute he’s seated again, he’s holding onto me, his grip so tight it hurts, but I don’t care. The rest of the ceremony is over quickly and it’s not long before I’m in the front seat of Grayson’s Porsche for the ride to the cemetery. He cranks the engine but doesn’t place us in gear. “It was perfect,” I whisper when we’re finally alone. “And true. He was a good man.”
“He asked me every time I saw him when you’d be back.” He looks at me, his green eyes bloodshot. “Every time, Mia. For six months.”
“I’m here now,” I whisper. “I’m not leaving.”
I mean it when I say it. I never wanted to leave in the first place.
He reaches for me, his fingers tangling in my hair. “We’re going to the house,” he says. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“On one condition,” I say, my hand covering his. “We don’t talk about why I left. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want us to be us right now.”
“We never stopped being us, Mia,” he says, pulling my mouth to his and kissing me. And in that kiss, I taste the truth. He’s right. We never stopped being us and while I’ve questioned if I knew what that meant over the past few months, I don’t now. Right now, us, is what it always was before: everything.
Chapter nine
Mia
The present
Icome back to the present, back to the retired lighthouse Grayson bought to please me, back to my present location of the cozy chair we’d picked out together, but I’m not really here. I’m not fully outside the memory of the funeral, and I’m as confused as I was that weekend. When he’d seen me at the church, when he’d pulled me to him, I’d thought I’d been wrong to leave him. I’d thought I was wrong about so much and that I belonged with him.
And then there was the text message.
The message that made me leave again. The message that told me that he would always hurt me, but one look into his eyes, one touch of his hand, and I’d believed we were real and pure again. Like I do now. What am I thinking, being here? What am I trying to do to myself?
I stand up and rush toward the stairs as Grayson appears in front of me, so damn good looking, so damn perfect in so many ways. His hands settle on my waist, branding me. His touch, his presence, always claims me, even when I don’t want to be claimed. And yet I always do with him. Right now, I’m lost, that familiar, woodsy, delicious scent of him mixing with the ocean air and consuming me as easily as the man himself. “Looking for me?” he asks softly, backing me up until I’m pressed to the bright blue wall of the lighthouse, a color we chose together. We did so many things together, everything together. He was my life, my love, my best friend.