Now that keeping whatever they had private was no longer an option, Gray didn’t really care what they thought, but clearly Meredith did. Still, he wasn’t ready to let her go. And maybe he’d never be. So he shifted his wrists until he gripped hers as she held on.
“Okay, no more kisses. How about a hug?” He expected her to resist, but instead, her whole posture melted.
“A hug?” she asked, her voice soft with disbelief.
He nodded gently, wanting the choice to be hers. And she collapsed into him, her arms slipping under his before he wrapped her tight. Whenever she chose him — with her words, with her eyes, with her touch — Gray’s heart somersaulted. She nestled against him, her head fitting just under his chin. Gray pressed his nose and lips into the satsuma sweetness of her hair, and bliss made his lungs fill and empty with a boundless sigh. She felt just perfect.
“Thanks,” he murmured into her hair.
“Anytime,” she said, sounding just as content.
Neither of them moved. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to roll her down onto the bed and show her what being near her did to him. He wanted to take all night.
But he didn’t. Gray just hugged her.
After he told her goodnight a few minutes later, he closed his eyes and welcomed sleep while he could still feel her warmth on his skin and taste her scent in the air.
THE NEXT MORNING, with his mom only smothering him a little (the pancakes, bacon, and coffee were appreciated, but she made far more than he could eat), Gray finished his fourth novel. His eyes were still wigging out, as though there were a little short in his optic nerve, so instead of going through the manuscript one last time before submitting it, he took a break and called his lawyer.
Giving his name and explaining the urgency of his situation to the man’s assistant was all it took to get him patched through to André Washington, or “Dré-Dub” as he’d been known back when they both worked at Habitat.
“Gray-Gray-Gray,” André said, the usual greeting pitching like a song.
“Dré-Dré-Dré,” he echoed, their routine always making him smile.
“What’s wrong? Simone says you need to make a change to your will,” Gray’s old friend sounded lost. The last time he’d called him was to ask him to go over his most recent publishing contract. Gray had an agent for this, but he trusted Dré implicitly, and he knew the man would tell him if he found any clauses that weren’t in his best interest. They hadn’t touched his will since Dré had drafted it for him two years ago — when it was obvious that he needed to make a plan for his assets should anything happen to him.
And since Gray didn’t have any dependents, what he hadn’t allocated to his family was going to go to Habitat for Humanity and a few other non-profits he regularly supported. But now he needed to make one important change.
Of course, he had to level with his old friend first.
“Fuck…“ Dré muttered after Gray had said the words“brain tumor.”And he kept muttering the curse as Gray detailed the tumor’s location, the proposed treatment, the risks involved, and the potential setbacks after surgery.
He finished, finally, and listened to André drop a few more f-bombs before the man recovered.
“Shit, man, you told me you were having headaches when I saw you before Thanksgiving,” he lamented. “And I said it was because you were spending too much time squinting at a computer instead of using your eyes to check the ladies on the dance floor.”
Chuckling at the memory, Gray let his buddy off the hook. “You don’t know how bad I wish you were right.”
Dré groaned. “How long you been knowing about it?”
He stopped chuckling and cleared his throat. “Since the Monday after Thanksgiving.”
Silence.
“And this is the first I’m hearing about it?” Gray could hear the offense in his friend’s voice. “I thought we were tight. I mean, I know you not the type to hang at the house and watch the game or go to a club every Saturday, but you didn’t think to tell your buddy, Dré, you just might drop dead any second?”
Gray sighed. “André, listen, apart from my family and my team, I haven’t told anybody.”
Dré didn’t miss a beat. “I thought I was on your team.”
Ouch.André Washington knew how to make an argument. Gray gave him the truth he deserved.
“You are. I just couldn’t. When I found out, all I wanted was to finish this book. I don’t know what’ll happen after surgery. I don’t know if I’ll even be around—”
“Whoa, man, don’t put that shit out there in the universe,” Dré interrupted, and Gray had to smile.
“Still superstitious,” he mumbled.
