Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
When it’s over, he all but collapses on top of me, but still, he’s so damn strong that he holds me up. He carries me just like that, into the house, and to a small bathroom off the garage entrance, and once I’m on the sink and we’re put back together, he cups my face. “Let’s go to the lighthouse,” he whispers.
I look down at my high heels. “I need to get rid of these.”
“Your things are still in the closet.”
My lashes lower, a punch of emotion in my chest. My things. He kept my things. He strokes my cheek. “Where they belong, Mia.” He doesn’t give me time to argue, taking my hand and guiding me through the house, but I wouldn’t argue anyway. With this man is where I’ve belonged since the moment I met him. Every moment apart has felt wrong, and I refused to let myself think about why I left. I won’t. Not now. I wish never.
We enter his bedroom, our bedroom until I left because we were here every weekend, and he doesn’t stop until we’re standing in an enormous, fancy, dressing room closet. He stands me in front of my row of clothes, him at my back, his hands on my shoulders. I stare at my things, at the way they hang next to his, and emotions assail me.
Grayson releases me and we dress, our eyes holding almost the entire time, neither of us looking at our naked bodies. Once we’re both in sweats and sneakers, as well as hoodies, we head to the beach. Hand and hand, we walk to the lighthouse and side by side, in a lounge chair we share, we watch the sun set over the ocean. When finally we speak, it’s of his father. We talk about him, just him.
Grayson and I spend two days holed up in the mansion. We don’t leave. We don’t talk about us. Not the broken part of us. We do a lot of remembering the good parts of us. We make love. God, how we make love. We speak in those unspoken ways and I don’t ever want to leave him again. But Saturday night arrives, and with it, the reality of a return to the city and my job with Ri’s company with it. Grayson and I are in the bed, both in sweats and tees, and I’m lying on his chest while we watch Tombstone, one of his dad’s favorite movies, when he suddenly hits mute and rolls us to lay face to face.
“We’re out of time. I don’t want this hanging over us tomorrow. I have to go back to the city tomorrow night.”
“Me, too.”
“We go back together.”
“Yes,” I say. I don’t even hesitate. “Together.” He strokes hair from my face and I can sense he needs to say more, but I suspect he just doesn’t have that in him right now. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes. You?”
“Yes. Pizza or Chinese?”
“Pizza. You know I love the pizza we get here.”
“Yes, Mia. I do know you love it.”
He says it like it’s so much more than pizza. And it is. The way he knows me is everything. He reaches across from me and grabs his phone. He orders the pizza, drops the phone on the bed, and then stands up and heads to the bathroom. His phone buzzes with one of the million text messages he’s gotten this weekend and I look down, and I don’t mean to, but I read the message.
I pant out a breath and sit up, holding my stomach, tears welling in my eyes. My God. I’m such a fool. I have to leave. I scoot off the bed and Grayson’s phone starts ringing. I grab my sneakers off the floor and call out, “Your cell is ringing,” before I disappear into the hallway. I collapse against the wall and swipe at my tears. I hate him. I love him so damn much. I have to get out of here. I dart for the living room, grab my purse and exit beachside, where I start running what will be miles of beach to reach a spot where I can catch an Uber. It’s time to leave Grayson and our lighthouse behind.
Chapter fourteen
Mia
The present
“Hey, baby, did my phone buzz?”
I glance up to find Grayson standing in the bathroom doorway, now wearing sweats, his perfect chest naked, and shaving cream all over his face. “Yes,” I say. “It vibrated on the nightstand. Why are you shaving?”
“Your face is all red.”
I reach up and touch my cheek where the sting of his whiskers remains for the first time in far too long while he rakes his gaze over my naked body. “And if you don’t get dressed, you’re about to have shaving cream all over you.” He winks. “Check the message for me, will you?” He disappears into the bathroom. “Read it out to me!” he calls out.