“I am sorry,” she says, tears now streaming down one cheek.
“I’m sure you are,” I tell her. It’s hard to run from guilt and regret. Especially when the victim of your horrible decision confronts you with it. Her dilemma isn’t my problem to solve, though. I have plenty of my own to focus on. “That doesn’t change anything for me, though, does it?”
There’s no chance for her to answer, because I’ve said what needed saying before I walk back to Grady and Sam.
“That’s it?” Sam looks disappointed.
“She’s not who I have real problems with,” I tell him. “And she’s not worth more than I gave her.”
“Mercy looks good on you,” he says. Then, rolls his eyes before adding, “I guess.”
Grady and I leave in laughter. I haven’t had so much laughter as I do with him. Even in situations like these, we find it. I find him. A hope sprouts that he finds me, too.
“That was quicker than I expected,” he says, opening the passenger door of his truck for me.
“The message was delivered.”
“It didn’t look like she said much.”
“I decided I didn’t care what she had to say. I’m all too familiar with what women will do to be with a man,” I say, buckling my seat belt. I know exactly what I did to be with Pierre, after all. Grady stands in the door, staring at me in silence, for a moment. He simply nods before closing my door and walking around to the driver’s side. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Driving me. Letting me take the lead.”
“You’re not used to that, are you?” He reaches over the center console to take my hand.
“No,” I answer. “When I started modeling, I had no control, at all. It wasn’t until I established myself that I was able to say no to jobs and events with the creepier figures in the industry. Then, came Pierre, who slowly gained control over almost every aspect of my life.”
“Abusers are good at that. It’s easier for them after they isolate you and start making all the rules,” he says.
“I wish I’d seen it earlier. Before him, I had good friendships. I had a good life. Loneliness can be a bitch.”
Grady eyes me quickly before moving his sight back to the road.
Silence descends, making me nervous. A small knot forms in my belly; it grows tighter the longer the quiet lasts. It’s a familiar feeling. Too familiar. Louisa would have lived with fear. Waiting for him to bring up whatever issue was plaguing the moment. Lou’s different, though. Lou is stronger.
“What are you thinking?”
He doesn’t answer, though, as he worries his thumb over the top of my hand until we pull into his driveway. Still, he doesn’t answer until we’ve stepped inside Irma’s house. As soon as the door closes, he backs me against the wall, cups my cheeks, and makes me look at him.
“How lonely were you when you met me?”
“Lonelier than I’d ever been in my life,” I admit, even though I know it may break both our hearts. I won’t ever lie to him.
“Fuck,” he says, long and slow. His agony penetrates through my skin and into my veins.
“I haven’t been since that night you let me cry on the beach, though,” I say, afraid it won’t be enough. He won’t understand. His doubt will win him over. All that lingering distrust left from what Brenda did to him that he tries so hard to hide. Mostly, he does. There are times, though, when I see it. Like recognizes like. I see him as well as he sees me.
That’s how I know this hurts him.
What I don’t know is if he’ll let it change our trajectory. Will this pause be a fissure we can bandage as it mends, or a canyon that will be too wide to cross?
“I want—” he says before his lips shut tight and a hard swallow works down his wide throat. “I’m not sure how to believe that.”
“You trust me,” I plead. “You know me enough to know I’m not her.”
“Do you know yourself well enough to know that what you feel for me is real?”
