Page 90 of All In

“Are you happy?” I ask, glancing at him.

He smiles. “I am.”

Good. That’s good. “I have to go home.”

Gray. Gray is home. I have to go to Gray.

Josh stands up right after me. “Yeah, I think you do.”

Without thinking about it, I step into his space and hug him. He wraps his arms around me, but I feel nothing. No spark. No urge to burrow into his skin. No desire to drown in his scent. Just… nothing.

I drop my arms, and so does Josh, and then he steps back with a light chuckle. “Go get your man, Harlow.”

Chapter 27

Grayson

When I woke up and my bed was empty, the sheets cold where Harlow was lying… Well, it wasn’t a great start to my morning. I’m not sure what I expected, really. I purged a lifetime of feelings on him and then pretty much crashed.

The emotional upheaval was too much, and I couldn’t stay awake. Not with Harlow in my arms, his weight pressing into me.

There’s a dull ache in my heart, but I’m trying to ignore it. I’m also ignoring my phone. I know if I give it more than a few seconds of attention, I’m going to break and text Harlow.

I promised him if he wanted space, I’d give him space. I have no intention of going back on that promise.

Here’s to hoping we’ll be okay in the end. Maybe he just needs some time. And if that’s the case, I’m going to give it to him.

I fucked everything up. I know that. I just don’t think I realized it would turn out quite like this. I didn’t realize I was going to be so… sad.

It’s one thing to love someone and them not know. When he didn’t know, it couldn’t hurt either of us. Not like this, anyway. But, well… now he knows. And there’s no putting that away. Even if I’m able to go back to pretending, Harlow can’t unhear everything I said. Everything I admitted.

Sighing, I make my way into the kitchen. I’ve been wandering around the house pretty aimlessly since I woke up and realized Harlow was gone, but I may as well get something done.

After I load the dishwasher and start it, I wipe all the counters down and sweep the floors. Truthfully, the kitchen doesn’t need to be cleaned, but I need something to do with my hands. And my feet. And my brain.

I’m worried that if I stop moving too long, I’m gonna spiral.

I should probably call my mom sometime today. Admitting to her that our marriage wasn’t real isn’t my idea of a fun time, but maybe if I give enough notice, they’ll be able to get some refunds on the deposits they’ve put down. Not that three weeks is really all that much notice.

At any rate, they can cancel the catering.

There’s not much to do, so I fill up a mop bucket even though the floor doesn’t need to be mopped.

It’s actually working well to keep my mind occupied, all things considered, because it’s not until the front door opens and Harlow stumbles through it, wide-eyed and flushed, that I realize he’s home.

“Oh.” He gets his footing and then freezes, his eyes trained on me. “You’re awake.”

Was he hoping I wasn’t? Makes sense, I guess. If he was trying to escape without me realizing it, then he probably was hoping I’d still be asleep. “I am.”

“Right.” He clears his throat, then clears it again. I grip the mop tighter, trying to force my gaze away from him and back to my task. He’s so fucking gorgeous. “I just got home.”

I nod. “I see that.” Don’t ask where he was. Just don’t. “Where did you go?”

Godfuckingdammit.

“Josh’s.”

Ah, perfect. I finally look away, my eyes finding a speck of dirt on the ground. I push the mop in that direction, quickly scrubbing it up. My fingers are kind of numb, and I think it might be from how tightly I’m gripping the damn mop handle.