Southern Gentleman: A Charleston Heat Novel

by Peterson, Jessica

  I open my mouth to reply—that’s not true, I put the gun down—but she’s already shoving the door open and launching out of my car like it’s on fire.

  I hate that I’m upsetting her like this. I hate that she’s hurting on my account.

  What is wrong with me?

  “Can I call you? Later?” I ask.

  She turns. Meets my eyes.

  “If you’re ready,” she says.

  What the fuck does that mean, I want to shout.

  What the fuck is happening?

  Heading back out onto East Bay, I unbutton the neck of my shirt and reach inside for my nicotine patch. I rip it off my shoulder and ball it up in my palm.

  I grab a pack of Marlboros from a nearby grocery store. Smoke one in the parking lot while I think about what I should do next. I don’t want to be with anyone, but I also don’t want to be alone.

  Bryce is still awake at Ford’s house. She can’t see me like this. Maybe he can come over to my place. Have Mom or Dad watch Bryce.

  I shoot him a text.

  I think I really fucked up with Julia and I don’t know what to do.

  I head home and get into my stretchy pants. Head out onto the patio for another cigarette.

  Ford appears on my front walkway below.

  Looking up at me, he lifts a bottle of brown liquor.

  “I come bearing gifts,” he says, squinting against the early evening light. “C’mon, let me in.”

  I put out my cigarette and head downstairs.

  “Who’d you get to watch Bryce?” I ask when we’re in my kitchen.

  Ford unwinds the plastic from around the whiskey’s bottle cap. “Mom. I told her you and Julia were fighting and I had to do some triage before you chased Julia off for good. She was at my house in five minutes flat with instructions that I get the two of you back together or else.”

  I set two rocks glasses on the counter.

  “Dude, why do you have to tell Mom everything?”

  He lifts a shoulder and pours us each a few generous fingers. “Because I like being her favorite. So what happened?”

  “I don’t know.” I bring my glass to my lips. Take a sip, the liquor snaking a line of fire down my middle. “I mean, I do know. But I don’t. You know?”

  Ford just looks at me. “Sounds bad. As bad as you look.”

  “Do you always have to be a dick?”

  “I always have to be honest. If that makes me a dick, then, well.” He shrugs, taking a sip of whiskey. “So be it. You look tired.”

  “I am tired.”

  “Tell me what happened with Julia.”

  He listens while I tell him what went down. The registry, the disaster of my morning, the house on South Battery.

  “I’m trying to do the right thing. I want to be Julia’s dream partner. She means the world to me. That baby in her belly means the world to me, Ford.” Ah, fuck, my throat’s tightening up again. I take a slug of whiskey. Doesn’t help. “Just lately—I feel like I’ve been drowning trying to keep up with work and the baby and Julia. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy. Genuinely happy being with her. But I’m struggling to show up at work the way I need to while showing up for her the way she needs me to. That make sense? Everything just feels so real and so…urgent. I’m overwhelmed.”

  Ford ducks his head in a nod, swallowing his sip. “Makes perfect sense. I think I see what’s going on here.”

  I let out a breath. “Thank God. Help me, Ford. Please.”

  “Work has always been important to you. But why do you think it became your life after your divorce?” he asks.

  “Because,” I say, searching for the right words. “For one thing, I didn’t have a personal life anymore. I had no one to go home to. For another, Rebecca passed. I wanted to provide for you and the baby so you were able to take the time and space you needed to grieve. I wanted you to be there for your daughter. So I stepped up to the plate and covered for us both. I took over. Once I was in at the firm, I was in. Doesn’t hurt that I like the work, and that I’ve gotten really fucking good at it. Being there kept me busy. Kept me distracted.”

  “Keep digging.”

  I shoot him an annoyed glance.

  “Okay. I guess I also wanted to…” I swallow. “Give back to y’all. You and Bryce and Mom and Dad. After the hell I put you through with my divorce.”

  “So you were trying to earn something by working like you did.”

  “I guess, yeah. Earn y’all’s forgiveness. Show y’all I cared. Maybe punish myself a little, too. I felt such shame…I mean, in my mind, I didn’t deserve another shot at a happy life. I broke Cameron’s heart, and I broke Mom and Dad’s, too. You know how much they adored her. I couldn’t give them the daughter-in-law or grandchildren they always wanted. But I could crush it at work. I could give back that way. So that’s what I did.”

  Ford’s brows jump. “Aha. There it is.”

  “How much Dr. Phil have you watched since you started working part-time?”

  “I’m telling you, Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday podcast is life changing. I know you’ve opened up a lot since you’ve been with Julia. A lot lot. You’re smiling. You’re not smoking. Well. You weren’t smoking until tonight. You’re wearing inappropriately tight pants. Grey, those are mostly good things. I would say you’ve completely transformed. Only you haven’t.” He touches the heel of his glass to mine. His voice softens. “I think you’re still hanging on to this last shred of that misbelief that you can’t be loved just as you are. You still think you have to earn love. Work for it. Because you’ve fucked up so bad that’s the only way you’re going to get it.”

  I slurp the rest of my liquor. It does nothing to clear the blur in my eyes.

  He’s right.

  Damn my brother, he knows what he’s talking about.

  “Forgive yourself for everything. All of it. Julia’s already gotten you ninety percent of the way there. But you have to go that extra ten percent, or you’re going to lose everything that’s good in your life right now.”

  “Makes sense,” I say.

  “You think you have to buy Julia and the baby this enormous house—splash out tons of money—to be the kind of partner she’s looking for. When really she just wants you to go shopping with her. Spend time with her. Be there. You’re doing the right thing by anticipating her needs. But I think you’re just mixing up what she needs with what you think you need to provide.”

  “But how do I do that?” I say, pouring myself more whiskey. “How can I spend time with her when I have so little of it to begin with? Money—I have a lot of that. But time?”

  Ford turns to face me, resting his elbow on the counter. “I say this lovingly. But you do that by letting me step back up at Montgomery Partners, you big idiot. Just like I’ve been asking to do for the past six months. Why do you think I was ordering all those new suits from Brumley’s? You let me take the reins so you can take a step back. It’s your turn to focus on things outside of work. You know I’m capable. Bryce is older and more self-sufficient. I’ve got great childcare lined up, and Mom’s already offered to help when I need to travel. It’s done.”

  I blink. But that’s too simple. Too easy.

  It makes too much sense.

  “But—”

  “But nothing. You’re forgiven, Grey. We’ve all forgiven you for what happened. The only person who hasn’t forgiven you—not fully—is you. So forgive yourself. For real. Let me be a full-time employee again. And then go get your girl back. I don’t know how she does it, but she puts up with you. She loves you for you. She sees you—the real you—and hasn’t run. Yet. That’s something worth fighting for.”

  I lift a hand to my face and wipe at my eyes with the back of my first knuckle.

  “It can’t be that simple.”

  “It is, though. No offense, the world—and Montgomery Partners—aren’t going to collapse if you’re not there to run the show.”

  I run through the scenario in my head. The one where I bring
Ford back up to speed so that he’s an equal partner in the business again. It won’t be easy for me to let go of some things. But yeah—if Ford could help handle snafus like the one this morning, obviously that’d be huge.

  Am I ready to let go? Am I ready to step back?

  Yes and no.

  But more than anything, I want to be with Julia. Have a family with her. Be the man she needs.

  If that means stepping back at work, I’ll do it.

  I’ll do anything for her.

  I also have a nice chunk of change in savings. Really nice. Enough to get a healthy college fund started for the baby. Plenty for whatever else she’ll need.

  “Thank you,” I manage. “I don’t know what to say, Ford. But thank you. For listening. For being you.”

  “Hey. You were there when I needed you, Grey. You went above and beyond to help me put my life back together after I lost Rebecca. I’ll always be there for you in any way that I can. Always.”

  “I love you, brother.”

  He grins. Claps me on the shoulder. “I love you too. Just promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ll never wear those tuxedo pants again. If Mom ever saw—”

  “Pants are gone,” I say, laughing. “I promise.”

  “Good. I was worried there for a second I’d have to pretend not to know you at weddings from now on. Although I did love how you danced. Granted, it was definitely more Farley than Swayze—”

  I give him a shove. “Not according to Julia. I have it on very good authority she thought my Swayze was sexy as fuck.”

  “Ew.” Ford holds up his hands. “Please don’t finish that thought.”

  “What? You don’t want me to tell me you that she and I got complaints at the hotel for being too loud?”

  “And it’s time for me to head back home. I’ll see you at the office first thing Monday morning?”

  I look at him. “You sure you’re ready?”

  “I’m ready. I have been for a while. Put me back in, coach.”

  “If you stop with the terrible sports metaphors, I’ll consider it,” I say. Letting out a breath.

  “All right,” he says.

  “All right.”

  Everything’s going to be all right.

  I hope.

  I can only pray Julia will forgive me for the things I said and the way I acted.

  I give Ford a hug. Tell him to give a kiss to the baby.

  Then I head upstairs to do some serious reading. As much as I want to literally run to Julia’s place and beg her forgiveness, my gut’s telling me not to rush this. She needs time to cool down. Get some rest. And I need time to 1) download a bunch of baby books and read them (thank God for e-readers), and 2) figure out what I’m going to say to Julia.

  Listening to that Oprah podcast might be a good place to start.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Julia

  I have a lunch date with Eliza the next day.

  Part of me wants to cancel. Has she heard about my fight with Grey? I don’t want to put either of us in an awkward or uncomfortable position.

  I do want to stay in my pajamas and wallow in self-pity all day.

  But the more I stew, the angrier—sadder—I get. It’ll be good for me to get out. And I genuinely enjoy spending time with Eliza. She’s nothing if nonjudgmental. Maybe she’ll have a nugget of wisdom or two to pass along.

  Because I miss Grey. I want more than anything for us to make up. I feel horrible about how things went yesterday, and spent the night and the entire morning crying about it.

  I hated going to bed alone.

  I hated waking up alone even more. I love our Sunday morning routine of sex and coffee and breakfast at home.

  Grey’s gotten my body trained to crave him the second I’m awake. It’s like clockwork. I open my eyes, smell him on my pillow, and poof.

  I’m raring and ready to go.

  I think about reaching out to him as I shower and get dressed.

  I think about why he hasn’t reached out to me. His silence is deafening.

  Then again, part of me appreciates the fact that I’ve had some space and time to work through my feelings. To, yes, wallow a bit in my self-righteous anger.

  But now I just miss him. Even though I have no idea how to work things out. That urge to provide, to give the best to the people he loves—I can tell it runs deep in Greyson.

  I never set out to change him. Like I told Grey, I’m not in the business of fixing or saving men.

  But something has to change for us to work.

  Something’s got to give if we’re going to be together for the long haul.

  I’m scared we won’t be able to find common ground. What would that mean for Charlie Brown? What would our lives look like as co-parents? If we fucked up a relationship, are we going to fuck up parenting, too?

  I meet Eliza at Craft Cafe. It’s a super cute—and super tiny—spot in an old Charleston single just off bustling Market Street.

  Stepping inside, I slide my sunglasses onto my head. Eliza is waiting by the door. Her face creases into a warm smile as she holds out her arms.

  “Hey, honey! How are you feeling?”

  “I’m all right,” I say, my throat welling as she wraps me in a tight, familiar hug.

  She pulls back. Hands still on my arms as she looks at me, brow furrowed.

  “You sure? You sound a little upset.”

  Jesus, why does she have to be so wonderful?

  Why does Greyson’s entire family have to be so freaking wonderful?

  “I’m…yeah. I’m not doing so great.”

  “Aw, sweetheart, come here.” Eliza hugs me again, running a hand over my back. “I’m so sorry you’re upset. You don’t have to tell me anything. But just know I’m here to listen. Or just to sit with you. Whatever you need, Julia, I’m here.”

  “I’m sorry.” I blink hard and turn to dig through my bag for a tissue. But Eliza’s already holding one out to me. The simple gesture—how familiar it feels—makes me cry harder. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

  “No need to apologize. Why don’t we sit down and order some food? I always feel a bit better after I eat.”

  I wipe my nose on the tissue. “That sounds great. Thank you, Eliza.”

  We’re seated at a two-top by a window. I don’t get upset like this often. When I do, I usually can’t eat much. But just because I’m bumming out doesn’t mean Charlie Brown is. I’ve been ravenous for pretty much the entirety of my second trimester, and today is no exception.

  I inhale my pimento cheese and fried green tomato BLT. It’s delicious.

  And Eliza is right. I do feel the tiniest bit better with a full stomach.

  Leaning back in my chair, I put a hand on my belly. Look at Eliza, who’s quietly working through her shrimp and kale salad.

  “Oh!” she says suddenly. “I forgot to tell you.”

  She reaches behind her and pulls a dog-eared copy of My Romp With the Rogue out of her purse.

  “I loved it!” she exclaims. “So much so that I read it twice, then suggested it to my book club. We’ll be discussing Lord Callum and Lady Charlotte at our next meeting.”

  I manage a grin. “I’m so glad y’all enjoyed it. Olivia is absolutely killing it with that series. I’m determined to help her reach bestseller status.”

  “I’ll do what I can to help. She’s got a new fan in me, that’s for sure. You know how I feel about men in kilts.”

  “I do, because I feel the same,” I say with a laugh. “Speaking of—well, not men in kilts. But speaking of romance and plot points and black moments—”

  Eliza grins. “The professor of romance is coming out to play. I adore it.”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate that. But I don’t know if you heard—I think Greyson and I are kind of having our own black moment right now.”

  She nods, picking up her napkin. “I did hear y’all got into an argument. I hate to see you two hurting li
ke this, obviously, but again, if you don’t want to talk about it, no problem. Just know if there’s anything I can do…anything at all to help y’all work things out, I’m here. We really do adore you. I mean that, Julia. You’ve made my son very happy. I hope he’s done the same for you.”

  I take a deep breath. Let it out.

  “How did y’all do it?” I ask. “You and Monty. How did you make this family thing work? I admire the relationship you have with your husband. You really seem to have it figured out. How?”

  Eliza smiles and takes a sip of her tea.

  “For starters, we may put on a good show. But Monty and I don’t have a damn thing figured out. Just last night we were running around like our hair was on fire when neither of us could get Bryce to go to bed. She screamed for an hour, Julia. An entire hour. No matter what we tried, it didn’t work. And we are experienced parents who raised two kids of our own! A three year old made us feel like complete idiots. Relationships—and parenthood—are always a work in progress. You learn as you go. And I won’t lie to you, it’s not easy. Parenting requires constant renegotiation. Constant communication.”

  I wince. I’ve been open with Grey about my expectations and needs since the day I told him I was pregnant. But I definitely should’ve been much better about communicating what I meant, exactly, when I said I needed him to be a real co-parent. I should’ve talked to him more about it after that first conversation we had when I told him I was pregnant.

  I just assumed he’d know that meant showing up and helping out with the big stuff and the small stuff. The fun things and the tedious things, too.

  I assumed he’d get it right on the first try.

  Both bad—not to mention unfair—assumptions.

  He also clearly put a lot of time and thought into his house search, however misguided it might have been. Even though he did it in the wrong way, he is taking his co-parent duties seriously. He does have a plan for us. He is thinking about our future.

  He’s been doing the work. It’s just the wrong kind of work.

  “Although I have to say I’m proud of the fact that Monty and I were able to be ourselves in our relationship while still being open—and willing—to change in order to be what the other needed,” Eliza continues. “To make our relationship and our family work. He never asked me to change who I was deep down, or what I wanted. But he did ask me to work on my patience because I’d hurt him when I snapped. I asked him to help me more in the kitchen, because meal planning, grocery shopping, and cooking for four people seven days a week was a full time job, and I already had one of those.”