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Chapter 34
I realize there are better things in life than beer, but beer makes up for me not having any of those things.
Ienter my walk-in closet on a mission to find my jeans with the pink back pockets and multi-colored patches on the knees. It’s Easter and I’m dressing up for the occasion. I open the drawer containing my special occasion clothes, but there are no special occasion clothes here. What the hell?
I open the drawer beneath it and it’s the same. Full of Grayson’s clothes. I stand and place my hands on my hips. I am not going to panic. I’m not! I will calmly assess the situation. I can be calm.
Two minutes later any thoughts of calm have flown south for the winter with no plans of returning. It’s not a big deal I tell myself. Take deep breaths. Inhale through your nose. Good. Now, exhale through your mouth. You can handle this. It’s not a big deal I tell myself again.
You love Grayson. What difference does it make if he appears to have moved into your house without your knowledge? Wait! What. The. Actual. Hell? I love Grayson? What? When? How did this happen?
We’ve only been dating – I count the weeks with my fingers – for eight weeks. Two months if you want to be technical about it. Not near enough time to fall in love with a man. But you’ve been friends much longer, Adult Suzie reminds me.
Screw her and her little voice in my head. I was sure I had banished her. Where does she get off telling me the truth? Does it look like I want to hear the truth now? In case there’s any confusion, the answer is no. No, I do not want to hear the truth right now.
What am I going to do? I eye the suitcase on the floor in the corner. I can run. Not run away. I’m not a complete coward. But I can take a little vacation until my head figures out what the heck to do. My heart has no problems with the situation. She knows exactly what she wants to do. She wants to run downstairs and jump Grayson before telling him we love him.
My heart is the most stupid organ in my entire body. I was with Toby for over a year before I told him I loved him. I snap my fingers. Aha! I simply won’t tell Grayson I love him. I’ll keep this nugget of information to myself.
What about the clothes in your closet? Adult Suzie asks. I wag my finger at her. She will not goad me into hyperventilating again. Grayson spends nearly every night in my bed anyway. Now that I’m thinking about it, I can’t remember the last night the man didn’t sleep in my bed. I slap my forehead. The man has committed a sneak attack and I’m the idiot who didn’t notice. I promise I’m not always completely oblivious.
“How bad are you freaking out right now?” I startle and jump at the sound of Grayson’s voice. “A lot then?”
I am freaking right the eff out, but not for the reason he thinks. But he can’t read my mind. He may think he knows me and what I’m thinking most of the time, but he can’t literally read my mind. He doesn’t need to know about the big revelation I just had. Nope. I am not telling him.
I clear my throat. “I’m not freaking out.” Lie. Total lie.
He chuckles. “Sure, you aren’t, Munchkin.” He gently pushes me down until I’m sitting on the chaise lounge in the middle of my closet. Yes, my walk-in closet is big enough for a chaise lounge. Eat your hearts out, bitches.
Grayson kneels in front of me and takes my hands. “Now, how are you actually doing?”
Umm, I bite my lip before I can shout, I Love You!! at the top of my voice. No, I remind Adult Suzie. We are not telling him we love him yet. She pouts and goes off to consult with Little Susan. Great. We all know whose side Little Susan is on.
“I’m okay. But when did this happen? Did you move in and forget to tell me?” I go for sass. My tried and true method of hiding how badly I’m freaking out.
“I didn’t exactly move in.”
Yeah, right. I motion with my hand to the closet full of his clothes. “How is this not moved in?”
“I still have my apartment.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And when was the last time you went there?”
He takes a moment to think. “I picked up my mail there two weeks ago.”
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure I found some mail from your college addressed to this address.” It may be painfully obvious what’s happening here, but I am determined to get him to confess.
I try a different tactic. “I thought your counselor said you shouldn’t be making any big decisions now?” He’s been seeing a counselor since our big blowout over my visiting Liz.
He shrugs. He hates talking about his counselor. Annoying.
“You promised you would always be honest with me,” I remind him.
“I thought if I moved in nice and slow you would accept it better than me showing up with boxes and boxes of stuff.”
He’s not wrong. “Is there any stuff left at your apartment?”
He shrugs. “The furniture. But it’s shit compared to yours.”
