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“I have to talk to my family eventually.”
“I know.”
“And that talk might go over better if you're not here,” I said.
His gaze turned to me, and I could see the confusion in his eyes. I saw the concern, and I felt his grasp tighten around me. But I leaned against it, trying to get him to relax. He couldn't go into that mode. He could protect me, but he couldn't control me. That was a fine line, and I wasn’t going to let him cross it.
“What are we doing?” he asked.
It was my turn to look out toward the sea. I watched the ebbing and flowing of the ocean waves as they bashed against the soft, sandy shores. It reminded me a lot of Grant and me. Me, with my soft, immovable edges and him, with his temper and his constant motion and his murky waters. It was the perfect metaphor for the two people sitting on a balcony at a hotel trying to figure out what the hell was going on and how we were going to navigate it.
But I didn't have a clear-cut answer for him.
I felt his fingers grasp my chin as he slowly turned my gaze back to his. Grant had picked a lovely spot for us to stay, and part of me did want to stay here forever, act like the outside world didn’t exist and fall into one another’s arms every night. But if control over my life was what I wanted, then I had to grow up and face things head-on.
Which meant talking to my family.
Grant’s lips rose to mine as his hand moved to cup my cheek. I melted into him, fell against the ministrations of his tongue. His lips were warm and soft against mine, and my hands planted into his bare chest. Our foreheads fell together, and our lips disconnected, and I found him staring at me when I opened my eyes.
“What are we doing?” Grant asked again, whispering.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I really don’t.”
I leaned up and drew in a deep breath. The wind kicked up and fluttered the sheet against my body. I clung to it tightly so it didn’t fall away as Grant’s eyes turned back out toward the ocean.
“I like being with you Grant. You make me feel all sorts of things I’ve never felt before. Most of them are good, but I guess I’m just scared,” I admitted.
“Of me?” he asked, hurt in his eyes.
I shook my head and reached out to touch his cheek. “No. I could never be scared of you. I’m scared that I might lose myself in you right when I’m finally starting to figure out who I am and what I want out of life. I’ve spent so many years doing what everyone else has wanted me to do, and I need to figure out what I want to do.”
“I would never hold you back, Theresa,” he said.
“I know you wouldn’t. It’s not you I’m worried about. Nothing would make me happier than to fall into bed with you and stay there for a year. But what then? What happens after that? And you have a successful business to run in Boston. I don’t want to hold you back either,” I said.
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I watched him shrug as his eyes turned back to me. I stroked my thumb along the stubble growing along his jaw. It was rough. Rugged. Like his brooding features and his sculpted form.
I thought back to the reason why he had his successful business and I started to get angry again. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him as anger for my father exploded in my chest.
“I hate my father for what he did to you,” I said.
“He was doing what he thought was best for you,” Grant said.
“Well, it wasn’t. I cared for you, Grant. You were a part of our family.”
“But it is a bit weird if you think about it,” he chuckled.
“I don’t care. I wouldn't have cared then, and I don’t care now.”
“I know you didn’t, and I know you don’t. Did you really not know?”
“Know what?” I asked.
“That I liked you?”
“Wait, what?” I asked sitting up and looking at him, incredulously. “You liked me? With my huge glasses and no boobs?”
