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Afterwards, I lie down with my head in Greyson’s lap, watching the willow undulate in the breeze overhead.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Thank you,” he says. “And for your help with my PR segment. Apparently, it’s already a hit.”
“Knew it,” I say. “I’ve never claimed to be a PR expert, but I do know truth when I see it. It’s refreshing. No wonder you’re a hit.”
“It’s not me, exactly. And compared to my dad…”
“What?” I sit up to give him a hard look. “You’re not as adept a liar? I don’t get why you keep comparing yourself to him.”
His look back at me is just as hard. “He was Storm Inc., Harley. Even if he did a lot of shit I’m not proud of.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right. I… I’m in no position to judge your father. We don’t know his side of things, either.”
“Don’t be sorry, he was a dick in a lot of ways. Though you’re right, sometimes I wonder if I ever really knew him. And my mom and him, I think they just stuck it out for us kids. I’m not even sure if I was planned myself, or if it’s my fault that…”
I touch his arm. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. Maybe. They weren’t suited, my father and mother. She was too demanding, and he bucked at any whiff of control. He never liked sticking with things, either.” He looks at me again, although this time he isn’t really looking at me. “Even this whole ‘love’ thing people always talk about. Sometimes I wonder if it isn’t just another socially acceptable addiction. If it isn’t… Because I haven’t ever felt…”
Something thumps in me and I look away.
Why does it matter, that he’s said that? Why do I care?
The wind rustling the willow sounds like water. But the water not moving sounds like silence.
“You’ve really never been in love?” I finally ask him.
“No. You?”
“No,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean… Hmm. I mean, I’ve never met a couple who I knew well that I wanted to be, whose relationship I wanted to have. Only old couples on the news for 50 years together that I don’t really know. What do I know, the old woman could secretly be beating the poor husband with her cane when he forgets to pass the salt.”
A stunned silence, then Greyson laughs loud and hard.
“You’re dark, you know that?” Another laugh. “I like it.”
I make a grimacing smile. “I’m glad someone does.”
“You’re right, though,” he continues. “Long-term love seems like the hardest thing in the world, the most impossible. Anyway”—he clears his throat as he gestures around—“this has raised picnics considerably in my estimation.”
I have to laugh. “Meaning?”
“The only other picnic I’ve been to was a family shit-show.”
“Then why try again?”
“Because…” He trails off, eyes narrowing at whatever he’s thinking. Then he gives his head a little shake. “Forget it.”
“Greyson.”
“Really, it was nothing.”
“Liar.”
I sit up and look at him right in the eye. “Tell me.”
“Harley.”
I move my face even closer to his, so our lips are nearly brushing. “Tell me.”
“You,” he says, and takes my chin in his hand and presses his lips to mine. Warmth and electricity rocket through my body.
When we finally manage to pull away, he wraps me in his arms. “Just because I had a feeling that being with you would make anything good.”
Whoa. First he says he doesn’t believe in love, then he says that?
“Greyson, I—”
Already, his stony cold expression is back in place. “I meant what I said before: not a big deal.”
“Fine,” I snap back.
Maybe it’s even better, me having to pry the words out of him with a verbal crowbar. Makes it clear he isn’t just trying to butter me up. No, I know he’s saying it—doesn’t want to say it—because it’s real.
My gaze is caught in the undulations of the willow overhead, my mind in wondering how long this will last, can last, why I even care at all. This can’t last.
And yet, right here, right now, Greyson and me, Anchovy and the crumbs, the willow and the water scented ever so slightly with the evergreens on the far side of it, all this, it’s enough.Chapter 25Greyson
By the time I’ve dropped Harley and her ferret back at her place, and gotten home, it’s late. Late enough and dark enough that as I step into my condo, I don’t notice anyone’s there until someone says, “Imagine seeing you here.”
“Nolan.” I’d recognize that voice anywhere. “What are you doing here?”
“Good question.” Nolan’s tone is firmly playful. “What are you doing here?”
“This is my condo.”
Nolan chuckles. “Ah, so it is. I ate all your kale chips, by the way. Hope you don’t mind. Who knew something so healthy could actually taste so good? Maybe I’ll include them in my next skit, just for an excuse to eat them again.”
I head over to flick on the light switch. “Why are you here?”
