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“I’m not leaving,” he said, shaking his head as he stepped closer.
My eyes welled. “Please leave.”
“No.”
I burst into tears. Drunken, messy tears. Grayson pulled me into his embrace and held me tighter than any hug I’d had before. And for the first time since my parent’s death, I finally let someone in.
“Please don’t leave,” I whispered into his chest, between sobs.
And he didn’t.
* * *
Regardless of the puffy eyes, I woke the next morning feeling lighter. The ache in my heart had eased and I felt a distinct shift in my mood. The smell of something cooking drew me out of bed, and I crept out to see what Grayson was up to.
The apartment was clean, with two full rubbish bags sitting by the front door. Grayson stood with his back to me, hovering over the stove. It was a divine sight.
I slid my arms around his naked waist and peered over his shoulder to see what he was cooking.
Grayson smiled as I lay a kiss under his earlobe.
“Pancakes?” Perhaps he wasn’t as clueless in the kitchen as I originally thought.
He shrugged and pecked me on the lips. “It’s the only thing I can cook.”
“I love pancakes. I haven’t had them since…in a long time.”
“Well, grab a plate, because this one is almost done.”
I did as I was told, and Grayson flipped the first pancake onto my plate. Digging the maple syrup out of the pantry, I poured it on top and grinned. The smell brought back memories of my dad, dancing in the kitchen on a Sunday morning, stacking up pancakes as high as possible. A memory I’d normally shake off.
“You look a little better today,” Grayson said as he dropped another onto my plate.
My eyes met his and my face warmed. “I’m sorry you had to see me that way.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about, except the fact you didn’t tell me you were alone for Thanksgiving.”
“I didn’t think you would…”
Grayson narrowed his eyes. “What? Care?”
I swallowed and lowered my eyes. “I didn’t want to cross the line…”
He leant back against the counter. “I think we crossed the line months ago, don’t you?”
“But I thought we were keeping this thing…uncomplicated.”
“As long as I’m waking up with you every morning…you can call it whatever you like,” he said and turned back to the stove.
My eyelashes fluttered along with my heart, and I smiled down at my pancakes. I quietly ate as Grayson continued to fill my plate and then his.
“Thank you,” I said as I polished off the last pancake.
He offered me a small smile. “You’re not used to someone looking after you, are you?”
“No, not really.”
“Pete never…”
