“You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind,” Rylee snaps when Grayson and I hang up, hurling a pillow at my head. “You’re seriously going to let him come here?”
“Rylee, I know it doesn’t make sense,” I try to explain. “But when I heard his voice, I just knew. I have to see this through—even if it breaks my heart. This could lead to everything I ever wanted, with the person I’ve wanted it with since I was fourteen.”
“Fuck,” she breathes. “Okay. We’re gonna get you through this. We’re gonna get you your happily ever after.”
Rylee begins gathering up our wine glasses and empty bottle, glancing at my phone.
“You need to call Brandon back,” she tells me. “Make sure to let him down easy, okay?”
I nod as she walks inside, picking up my phone again.
Brandon answers on the third ring.
“Hey,” he greets me. “You’re still breathing.”
“Barely,” I say, managing a small laugh.
There’s a beat of silence.
“Brandon…” I whisper. “Please don’t hate me.”
“You want to see Grayson.”
“I wish I didn’t,” I sigh. “But I have to see this through. I just have this feeling that I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t.”
“I know,” he says softly. “If it were me and Johanna… I know.”
“I’m sorry,” I say honestly.
Iamsorry.
But there’s never been a choice between them.
For me, it will always be Grayson—and now, I have a chance to find out if he’sstillthe one.
I pace around the living room later that night, glass of red wine in hand, waiting for Grayson. I couldn’t decide what to wear—the thought that it even crossed my mind is irritating—but I settled on a forest green silk tank top and shorts. Itisthe middle of the night after all.
The nervous energy flowing through my body is making me crazy. Rylee left to go meet a friend at a bar downtown, promising to stay away until morning. I’m alone for this.
After my fifth trip around the room, I sit on the sectional couch, place my wine glass on the coffee table, and sigh. Maybe he isn’t going to show after all. Maybe he changed his mind. He’s only been divorced all of a few hours, as it is.
I stretch out, pulling a blanket up to my chin, and close my eyes, just for a moment. I don’t even remember falling asleep.
It’s the knocking at my front door that stirs me.
What time is it? I rub my eyes and try to gather my thoughts when the knocking begins again.
Grayson.
I jolt up from the couch and race to the front door, but stop short at the hallway mirror. I fluff my chocolate waves in a pathetic attempt to make it look less like I’d just been drooling on the couch two minutes prior. With a small sigh of acceptance that this is as good as it’s going to get, I finally swing the door open.
“Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs.
He’s standing in the doorway, hair messy and eyes tired, and yet, there’s still that stormy, borderline dangerous look in them. He gives me a slow, drawn out once over. I can only identify the way he looks at me as something so much deeper than just want. It's an unmistakable level of desire.
“How’d you know green is my favorite color?”
Before I can breathe a reply, his mouth crashes into mine like he’s been dying to taste me.
