by Whitney G.
“Nadira came and held my hand when I went back,” I said.
“That explains why she wouldn’t look at me when I saw her that summer.” His voice was soft.
"She told me you called her every year."
“It took her a year just to pick up the phone.” A faint smile crossed his lips. “She told me you moved overseas.”
“I told her to lie.”
“I figured, but—” He shook his head. “I hired at least three private investigators to look for you and they all said you moved overseas, too. They all verified it.”
“Did they consider Alaska overseas?” I asked. “I was only there for a year, so maybe that’s what they found.”
“No, Anna said that—” He stopped himself. “I trusted Anna to hire all the firms. I didn’t handle that personally.”
Silence.
“I guess now I know why she was insistent on buying me new phones and installing ‘alerts’ in the event you ever called.” He gritted his teeth. “All this time. All this goddamn time...”
We didn’t say anything else to each other. We just sat in silence, both regretting the lost and stolen years. The lies and lines of botched miscommunication.
At three a.m., Grayson stood up and reached for my hand. “Let me drive you home.”
“Can we walk instead?”
“Absolutely.”
I stood up and gave him my hand, and we walked out of the café amidst New York’s chilly night air. When we made it to my brownstone, he walked me up the steps and looked into my eyes.
“I’m sorry I allowed this to happen,” he said. “I don’t know what to do next regarding ‘us’ or how to begin processing this, but I do need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“Open the letter you get from me this week.” He kissed my forehead. “Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
He watched me unlock the door and I stepped inside. “Goodnight, Grayson.”
“Goodnight, Charlotte.”
GRAYSON: NOW
Present Day
New York City
SUBJECT: URGENT.
Anna,
Meet me at my condo. Now.
—Grayson
I SPED AROUND TOWN in an utter rage for an hour—driving through side streets and bridges to burn off my anger. I’d managed to keep my composure around Charlotte, but with every bit of the missing story she told, all I could think about was how one of the people closest to me had methodically ruined two lives and stolen seven years.
Parking my car in the garage, I took the elevator to my penthouse suite and noticed the door was already ajar. I took a deep breath and braced myself for coming face to face with Anna.
“Hey there, Grayson!” She set her book down as soon as I walked into my living room. “What’s so important that you wanted to see me at this hour?”
“You’re fucking fired.”
“Excuse me?”
“You. Are. Fucking. Fired.”
"You sure about that?" She crossed her arms and stood to her feet. "I'll file a lawsuit for wrongful termination in a heartbeat, so you better have a damn good explanation."
“Charlotte Taylor.” My blood was still boiling. “You knew exactly where she was all this time and you acted like you didn’t when you told me about the reunion.” I stepped closer to her. "You purposely ruined what we had with your bullshit, for no reason. No reason."
She raised her eyebrow, looking completely nonchalant.
"You were supposed to act in my best professional interest. You had no right to interfere in my private life."
"I interfered with good reason, Grayson."
“Are you fucking serious?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
"Yes." She hissed. "I prevented you from being another Ted Brewer—another lovesick dope who let his "girlfriend" convince him that his fifty-million-dollar contract wasn't worth it anymore. The same girlfriend who left him and got half of his money because he was dumb enough to marry her before he played his first minute in the league." Her face was beet red. "You knew Charlotte for what? Two semesters at that point? You had no idea if she was a gold-digger or not and you have no clue what lengths a woman will go through to string a meal ticket along. You should be thanking me and giving me a raise for ensuring she wasn't a distraction."
“Her being pregnant was a distraction to you?”
Her face paled and she swallowed. “I thought she was making that up to get your attention. Lots of girls suddenly claim they're pregnant when their boyfriends get drafted into the league.”
“She was going to be my fiancée.”
“Even worse.”
“So your whole ‘reroute your phone number to this new phone’ strategy was never what you said it was. It was a way to make sure you could control who contacted me, right? Let’s forget about the ‘why’ for a second. How the fuck did you do that?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Answer me, Anna. Now.”
"I blocked her number and email address on all your lines since the new phones we bought you were under our agency account," she said, her voice low.
“And?”
“And I did a reverse patch so whenever you reached out to her via text or phone, she wouldn't get it. All your emails landed in my inbox first before they reached whoever you were trying to contact. Whenever you emailed her, I just deleted it."
I couldn't believe I didn't see this shit before. "There was no reason for you to hide the pregnancy from me."
"I asked her to send me an official ultrasound." Her voice was still soft. "If she sent it, I would've let you know, and we would've handled it, but...She clearly wasn’t pregnant because she never sent it to me. She just wanted to be in the spotlight as your girlfriend back then. That’s why she was always at every dinner meeting with you and giving her unnecessary opinions. Remember?”
I glared at her in utter disgust.
“Grayson, look.” She held up her hands. “I know right now that you’re looking at what I did from an emotional angle, but—”
“What else have you lied to me about?” I wasn’t interested in hearing her side of the story. I’d heard enough from Charlotte.
“I didn’t lie,” she said. “I just held back a few things so you could focus.”
"A lie by omission is still a goddamn lie." I glared at her. "Did you hire an investigator to look for Charlotte when I asked you to?"
“Grayson...”
"Answer me," I demanded. "When I gave you twenty thousand dollars and told you to use it to do whatever it takes to find her, did you?"
“No.”
“All the years since when I told you to hire a different firm and I paid you even more to get results, did you use the money for that purpose?”
“No.”
“So, you clearly lied to me when you said she’d moved overseas...Where did all that money go, then?”
“My daughter’s college tuition.” She mumbled. “But I can definitely pay you back today if it’ll help you trust me again.”
“There will never be any trust between us, Anna. Ever.”
She opened her mouth to say something else, but I held up my hand.
“You knew she was living in New York this whole time?”
She looked away from me and nodded.
"So, why point out that she was going to be at the reunion at all?" I asked. "Why do that if you knew there was a chance we would talk?"
“Personal atonement,” she whispered. “I wanted to try to make it right since you still asked about her all the time.”
“Was Jasmine in on this, too?”
"No, it was just me.” She shook her head. “If there’s anything I can do to make you forgive me or—”
“You can get the fuck out of my condo and stay the hell away from me.” I opened the door. “I’m sure you’ll do an incredible job with that since this won’t be your first time keeping someone away from me.
”
“Grayson...”
“Leave or I’ll press charges for all the money you’ve stolen from me.”
She picked up her purse and sighed. Then she walked into the hallway. She turned around to face me, looking as if she was going to try and say something else, but I slammed the door in her face before she could get a word out.
I sent my building security manager a message, telling him to make sure that Anna was removed from the condo and never let inside again. I emailed Jasmine and asked her to put out an immediate statement to the press and all my business partners to let them know that Anna was no longer my agent. Then I slumped on my couch and tried to keep my composure, tried not to break down and lose it over all the years I’d missed with Charlotte.
It didn’t work.
GRAYSON: ON A TUESDAY
Present Day
New York City
DEAR CHARLOTTE,
I met you on a Tuesday.
Became your best friend, then your lover, on a Tuesday.
And if I’m timing this right, you’ll receive this letter on a Tuesday.
I’m going to do my best to keep this simple.
1.) I’m still in love with you. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met—inside and out, and the day I fell for you, I knew no one else would ever stand a chance. Seven years later, this still holds true.
2.) I miss you and I have missed you. During my first season, when I won the Offensive Rookie of the Year Award (Was there ever any doubt I would win this?) I wanted nothing more than to look out into the crowd and see you standing there. During my second season, when I won The Most Valuable Player Award for the regular season, I wished that you were sitting next to me at the ceremony. Not Anna, not Kyle, not my teammates. You. (For brevity purposes, and since you haven’t been watching me on the field: you should know that I’ve won an award every single season. (Because yes, I’m that good :-)) And every single time I felt as if someone was missing from the moment.)
3.) I want to be with you. Period. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since I saw you in Pittsburgh, haven’t been able to get through a single day without wondering what you’re up to, and I don’t want to go another day without having you by my side again.
If you feel the same and if you think what we had in the past is worth a second chance, please write me back and let me know.
I’ll wish you well and I’ll still love you no matter what you choose.
Grayson
PS—Is the name of your café & art gallery (“Rosy-gan”) an anagram for my name or is that a coincidence?
PSS—I wanted to call you and say all of this over the phone, but I forgot to ask for your current phone number. (What’s the wait time on getting that from you these days? :) )
CHARLOTTE: ON A TUESDAY
Present Day
New York City
DAILY LATTES, FLOWERS, town car service, and wine.
Ever since Grayson sent me the letter a month ago, he'd made sure to let me know that he was impatiently waiting for an answer by sending me all of those things. The caramel lattes that were delivered to my condo every morning bore the words “I need an answer” on their sleeves. The beautiful bouquets that arrived on the doorstep of my gallery at midday featured “I need an answer” wrapping paper around their stems. The labels on the wine bottles that came every Wednesday read, “Answer Grayson’s letter,” and my new town car driver looked over his shoulder each time I slipped into the backseat and asked, “You give him an answer yet?”
As sweet as the gestures were, I honestly wasn’t sure how to respond to his letter. I couldn't pinpoint any bad times we had in college, and after realizing that our plans were sabotaged by an outside party and not by him, I was leaning toward a yes. But I still had a few doubts.
Can we really pick up where we left off seven years ago?
I stepped into my brownstone and immediately dropped my groceries to the floor. There were white and pink flowers everywhere—on the steps, down the hallway, and in the kitchen. I walked into the living room and spotted Grayson sitting on my couch.
“I could’ve sworn we discussed that breaking and entering is a crime,” I said. “For the record, assaulting someone’s home with flowers is also a crime.”
“I’ve never heard of that offense.”
“You never majored in pre-law.”
“You never went to law school.”
I smiled. “How’d you get in?”
“Your landlord is a fan of mine. I also promised him I wouldn’t steal anything.”
I stared at him, unsure of what to say.
He walked over to me and held up a torn ticket stub, one from a game that was this past season. “I thought you said you’ve never been to any of my home games.”
“I’ve been to every single one...Well, minus the year I was in Alaska. I did watch from there, though.”
“Even though you hated me?”
“I still loved you,” I said. “And I was proud of you. I still am.”
He dropped the stub and wrapped his arm around my waist. “I would’ve believed what Anna said if I was in your shoes back then. I’m sorry I assumed you left me for no reason.”
"It's good to finally know you weren't as heartless and cold as I thought.” I looked away from him, but he used his other hand to cup my chin, making me face him again.
“We’ve lost seven years of each other,” he said, looking right into my eyes. “Is it too late for a second chance?”
“I don’t know, but you promised to give me some time to think about it.” My heart was fluttering against my chest, begging me to take him back on the spot. “If you would give me that time, I could give you an answer.”
“The last time I waited for you to give me an answer, it took months.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “And all I got in return was your phone number.”
A laugh escaped my lips. “The flowers and lattes you’ve sent me every day are amazing. The pink donuts last week were a nice touch, too.”
“All these years and you still deflect questions by changing the subject? It’s still sexy as hell on you, but you’re not getting away with it today.”
I felt my cheeks reddening. “What do you want me to say, Grayson?”
“I can’t sleep until I know your answer,” he said, “I’m not leaving until you tell me, and if I don’t like the answer, I’ll keep asking for a new one.”
“What happened to you saying that you’ll wish me well, no matter what I decide?”
“That was a lie.” His lips brushed against mine. “I won’t be able to wish you well until you realize you belong with me.”
“And if my answer is no?”
“I have a feeling it isn’t.” He gently pushed me against the wall. “I think you want to pick up right where we left off, as badly as I do.”
“I have some terms and conditions,” I said softly.
“Name them.”
“One, you need to fire Anna.”
“I already did. Two?”
“You’ll have to give me time—actual time, to get used to your lifestyle.”
“My lifestyle?” He looked confused.
“I’m not used to paparazzi and gossip blogs reporting my every move or waiting for me outside my house just to snap a photo. You’ve gotten used to it, but I don't think I will be for a long time."
“Would you like it if I put out a statement and hired you some personal security?”
I nodded.
“Okay.” He kissed my forehead. “Three?”
“If I take you back, you can’t be with anyone else while we’re together. No staged or fake relationships just to help other people’s careers or get good press. Your only relationship statement will be about me.”
“That’s a given, Charlotte.” He held me even tighter. “That’s almost a waste of a condition.”
“Not to me,” I said softly. “And lastly—”
“Yes?”
“Kiss me before I
change my mind.”
GRAYSON: ON A TUESDAY
Epilogue
Two years later
SUBJECT: THIS YEAR’S Champion/MVP.
Dear Grayson,
I hope you’re sitting at home on this amazing winter day and thinking hard about your past season. Yes, your team only lost three games, but you never made it to the Super-Bowl.
However, since I did and my team is currently taking to the streets in a victory parade, I thought I would be a terrible best friend if I didn’t share this moment with you via pictures. (They’re attached)
You’re very welcome for the twenty point defeat I handed you in the playoffs.
(I look forward to doing the same thing to your team next season)
The MVP this year,
Kyle
SUBJECT: RE: THIS YEAR’S Champion/MVP.
Dear Kyle,
I’m not sitting at home on this amazing winter day, and I am not thinking hard about my past season at all, as it’s now irrelevant. I’m sitting in my car waiting for you to finally get here so I can propose to my future wife.
Your fucking parade was last week. You had someone hand-deliver the oversized pictures for framing at Charlotte’s gallery. (I’m going to remember that shit next year) and I’m sure you’re responsible for the new billboard outside my window that reads, “I Beat Grayson Connors This Year.” Or, is that not your work?
Hurry up,
Grayson
CHARLOTTE: ON A TUESDAY
Epilogue
Two years later
I WRAPPED THE LAST of today’s canvas orders and made sure I’d signed my name on their boxes in bright, pink ink. Within the past two years, Rosy-gan Cafés & Galleries had become one of the top ten gallery collectives in the city. I’d gone from owning eight locations to sixteen, and my team was composed of some of the most talented artists in the world.