“Don’t you dare move, Matthew Jacobs.” I point a finger at Matthew. He freezes like a statue like I still don’t see him. He has one khaki leg propped up in the air, mid-walking, and his blue eyes are staring straight ahead. “Just because you’re frozen doesn’t mean I can’t see you, stupid.” I push away from my desk and rush after him.
He sees me coming and begins running to his office. His is a few doors away from me, but he tries to lock it after me. Even if he successfully did, I’d just open it with the key he gave me. He has one for mine. We’re the only ones we trust with our keys, just in case we ever get locked out or emergencies.
“Oh, geez.” He slumps in his chair, covering his face. He knows what I’m chasing him for. I have questions, and he’s going to answer them. I don’t care if he wants to be all mysterious and closed up; I will get them one way or another.
“Why didn’t you tell me you and Lily were a thing?” I ask accusingly, perching on his glass desk. He rubs his eyes. I kick his loafers, and he sits up quickly and bites his lips.
“Because we aren’t anything…not yet, I think.” He sounds confused.
I kick him again. “Figure it out.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you guys together. I’m cheering you on.” I crack a smile and laugh as he blushes, tugging on his button-down collar. “I even have a ship name for you two. Wanna hear it?”
“No, I do not want to hear it.” He sighs heavily, rubbing his face. Pausing, he mumbles, “What is it?”
I grin from ear to ear and proudly tell him, “Maly.” He makes up his face. “Or Mily. There’s not much to choose from. Give me a break.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re horrible.”
“No, I’m the best,” I say jokingly, tapping his foot with mine. He shoots plastic bullets at me before pulling his feet in.
“You should lay down. You sound insane,” he suggests.
“Hmmm…lay…” Something about that word makes shivers crawl through my skin. Weird.
“What is it?” He looks up at me, confused.
I shrug. “Don’t know. Nothing.”
“Okay…” He eyes me.
I clear my throat and beam down at him as I cross my arms. “Anyway, why don’t you two talk about what you are?”
He rubs his neck, and I can tell he really likes her by the way he’s red as a tomato. That’s the definition of a wimp. “Dunno…I just don’t want to mess things up. After Delilah, I don’t know…” It breaks my heart to hear this. When he found out about Delilah and Garrett, his heart split in two. And he didn’t deserve it. She should have told him, not led him on and let him find out, making him look like a fool.
I walk over to him and pinch his cheek, making him look up at me. “Just because you got your heart broken doesn’t mean you can’t love someone else. If they’re the one, they’ll heal you and make your heart whole again. Give her a chance. Give you two a chance. It may be the one you’re glad you took…”
He doesn’t reply, obviously deep in thought. He chews his lower lip.
“I’ll leave you to it. I’m gonna go for a coffee run since the one in the kitchen’s broken.”
He hums a reply and resembles a serious Christian Grey as he leans on his elbows on his glass table, jawline sharp and ticked, back posed.
I leave him and go to the coffeeshop down the road. Thankfully, the line wasn’t long, and I was able to get our coffees in less than a few minutes. Since he’s feeling down, I get him a cookie…gooey chocolate embedded in the crunchy texture…then get one for myself. Make that two. I can only blame my future period. Speaking of which, I should buy more supplies when I go home.
Home…
Grey comes to mind, and I cross the road, smiling like a tickled school girl. Something about this morning has my stomach ruffling like it’s made of peacock feathers. So much so, I almost don’t see the woman rushing for the elevator when I arrive at the building.
“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” I apologize as she steps inside.
She punches the very top floor’s button.
She smiles broadly, dull green eyes sparkling. “Oh, that’s okay. I’m just glad you caught it for me in time.” I smile at her and nod, noting her business professional pantsuit. She must be an important figurehead. She’s a bit older but very beautiful, with shoulder-length blonde hair and a doll-like mouth.
“Of course. It’s a wonder how I did with these in my hand,” I joke as I hold up the cupholder and bag of cookies in each hand. She laughs, and it’s the kind that just pulls you in and forces you to watch and admire.
“Jenna,” she introduces with a nod.
“Olivia,” I tell her in return.
“So lemme guess, you’re an aspiring psychologist?” She raises her brows and gives me a once-over.
I blush and nod. “Yes, how’d you know?”
“Despite the business of this building…” She chuckles. I blush even more at my unwitting incompetence. “I just see it…there’s this aura around you. You want to help people. And you may have helped one person in particular already.”
I can’t help but gape at her. “You’re good.”
She shrugs with a knowing smile. She eyes the bag. “Can I ask what you got? Maybe I can pick something when I’m leaving.”
“Just a cookie for a friend and me. He’s a bit down.”
“Oh.” She frowns like she actually cares. It’s sweet. “You’re a good friend. What happened to him?”
I sigh and bite my cheek. “This girl he liked is apparently sleeping with her boss. This silly boss that kind of scares me sometimes, really…intense. Such an asshole. Don’t even get me started on his slate eyes. They just…hold you and look into your soul.”
She cracks a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, really?” I nod. She looks at the doors as the shaft finally slows to a stop. “That’s something…”
“And you, are you an aspiring psychologist?” I ask her curiously as we exit the elevator.
“No,” she says as she walks away from me. She looks over her shoulder, flashes me a bright smile, and says, “I’m the wife of the asshole boss. I’ll see you around, Olivia.”
My smile drops as she turns the corner to the hallway of Garrett’s office. “Shit…” I mumble.
***
“And then she looks over her shoulder and—guess what she says?” I say excitedly, still feeling incredibly guilty as I munch on some kettle chips. I bite my lip and raise my pen and face in the air, trying to gauge his reaction. But he’s just watching some UFC fight. He’s not paying attention to me, and I’m laying over his lap. I’m even just wearing his shirt. Literally. “Grey,” I whine.
“Huh, babe? You look so hot, babe. Real nice.” He rubs my butt, eyes intently glued to the TV.
I roll my eyes, put my pen down, pausing my studying, and get up. I stand in front of the TV, but he just looks around me. Rolling my eyes again, I sit on his lap and bite my lip sensually as I release my hair from its messy bun.
“Do I look nice now?” I drawl, shaking out my hair.
Finally, his eyes settle on me, and they pop like popcorn kernels. He taps the remote on the TV, pausing the fight. “Like I said, fucking hot.” He looks all giggly and even bites his lip as he looks me up and down.
I roll my eyes and wrap my arms around his neck, playing with his hair. “Guess what she said?”
“Who?” He holds my waist.
“Are you an owl?”
He shrugs.
I whine dramatically, throwing my head back. He tickles my neck, and I laugh and lean forward. “Jenna. The lady I met in the elevator. I was coming back up after getting Matthew and me some coffee when she and I began chatting. She was nice, and because I’m a dummy, I told her about Garrett and Delilah—”
“No,” he gasps.
I roll my eyes for the millionth time, tugging on his hair. “Don’t mock me and just listen.”
“I’m listening!” he claims.
I narrow my eyes.
He rolls his eyes and rubs my sides. “Okay, okay. I’m all ears.” He even cups his ears for emphasis. I giggle. He is such a dork.
“Anyway, we’re coming off the elevator when I ask why she’s there. Right. Right.” He nods and looks so amused. He’s silently mocking me that way, but I ignore him and continue telling him what happened. “And she looks over her shoulder and says, ‘I’m the wife of the asshole boss,’ and I’m like—” I make a shocked face, jaw dropped, eyes popped, and hands slapped against cheeks.
He laughs. I chuckle as he bounces, eyes clenched closed as his head falls back. “And I’m like—” I lean over and look into his eyes. “I’m like, oh my goodness! I rush into Matthew’s office and I tell him, and he’s like…no! And I’m like—” Grey bursts into laughter, leaning his head up. I back up, holding his shoulders and shaking a little to get his attention. “Listen, listen—I’m like—yeah, she’s there right now.”
“So we sneak over to the office, and we’re sneaking, right? Right?” A little shake, and a “hmm,” eyes glistening. “And we’re looking in, ’cause glass office, obvi.” More laughing from him, he’s clutching his stomach. “But we’re looking, right? And we see Delilah crying and her cheek is red, and so is Garrett’s. I’m guessing she slapped them. If Matthew wasn’t acting like a complete dodo bird, we might’ve been able to see that. Anyway, Jenna’s screaming and demanding a divorce, and guess what? Guess what, Grey Wyler?”
He pulls me close, kissing me under my chin, making me squeal and giggle. “What, Olivia Westerfield?”
“S-she’s been cheating on him with another man!” I exclaim and burst into laughter. He gasps truly, and I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. He coos me and rubs my stomach. I smile and feel my heart burn, stomach twist, but calm down under his soothing touch.
I sigh, and he just stares at me. “What?”
He looks like he’s staring up at heaven, in awe and heart overflowing. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, eyes bright as all the stars combined…and says, “I love you. You know that, right?”
My chest caves in, and I find it hard to breathe. “Um, yes. Why? Are you sick?” I put a hand to his forehead. Cold.
He chuckles and takes my hand, gently pressing his lips to my knuckles. “Sickly in love with you.”
I blush like a thousand mega-stars and scrunch up my face. “Stop it.”
“Okay.” He nods and looks away from me, trying to look all passive. I know he’s faking, but it still hurts, and I become clingy and demand his attention. I pout and nudge my head underneath his chin. He continues his façade for a few seconds before caving in and laughing. I pull my head out under his chin and beam at him.
“I love you,” I sing-song, holding out the “you” in a melody.
His eyes burn bright, mouth opens…then he nods and kisses my mouth gently. “I love you too.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Vegetables? Check. Chicken? Check. Past—for the love of God. Didn’t I tell you to get the pasta, Grey?” I pause in checking off items on my list and scold Grey, a little pissed off. I told him to get one thing, yet he’s acting like a little boy on a sugar high.
He’s currently running up and down on the back of the shopping cart. He can be such a child sometimes. I appreciate it and find it adorable most times. This is definitely not one of those times.
He rolls by me with wide, guilty eyes.
“What was that?” he quizzes, pretending like I didn’t just tell him.
“I thought I told you to get the bowties,” I reiterate, blowing out an annoying hair strand from my eyes.
He whizzes by again. “I don’t look good in a bowtie,” he says incredulously, like I flipped my top open for every person to see in the supermarket.
I rub my forehead to convince the headache not to form between my ears. “I meant the pasta, Grey.”
He skids to a stop, out of breath, more out of breath than when he finishes a fight, ironically enough. “I don’t like pasta,” he says.
Then he’s down the aisle again. He makes a whooping sound like an ambulance’s siren, scaring an elderly woman out of the way. She gapes at him, most likely wondering if the local asylum’s missing a patient, then snaps her head at me. I blush and offer her an apologetic smile, sorry for my man-child boyfriend. He’s had a little bit too much sugar. His beloved gummy worms he sneaks into the cart every time we come here.
“Sorry,” I mumble to solidify my apology and run after him.
I find him a few aisles over, chewing on sugary worms; he looks around like he’s paranoid of cops catching him red-handed with a bag of narcotics. Only I am the cop, and the only drug he possesses are those damn gummy worms.
“Give me those.” I snatch the bag from him and dump it in the cart.
He doesn’t even react, just stares at the ground and crosses his arms, leaning against a wall of cleaning supplies. Instantly, I know something is wrong. He isn’t making a witty remark or smirking or doing any of the things I love so much about him. He’s just…blank.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him, not even bothering to acknowledge the older woman watching us with jealous, disgusted looks. I focus solely on him. “Tell me what’s wrong,” I insist when he doesn’t say anything, just pulls on his lower lip. I watch him do it, his eyes glistening ever the slightest.
He won’t tell me here. Not when there are so many people around us, watching. Why can’t people just mind their own fucking business?
I growl, hands turning into fists at my sides. I get so aggressive and possessive when people stare at him like this, us like this. Like we’re not supposed to be this close. Like there’s something wrong with us. Like he’s fucking crazy…I want to knock every lady’s teeth out. But then I realize if I want to find out what’s wrong with him, I have to be rational and sane, cool, calm, and collected.
“Let’s leave,” I suggest in a low tone. I think this may be a bipolar thing. It hasn’t affected him or us in so long, so I am surprised it’s coming back full-force right now. We’re lucky in the first place. It isn’t typically a thing you forget about. It’s always there, nagging and picking, crawling under your skin. And to think he deals with its persistency makes me sick, but he never confesses its control over him.
I’m glad we came to this particular supermarket, because they have this cool thing where you don’t have to go into cashier lines to pay for your things. You pay by using your phone, and you can just walk out. No hassle, and no time wasted when I could be helping my boyfriend.
After paying, we wheel the cart to my car and slide inside. His is still in the shop, getting fixed after his car wreck. It’ll be done in a few weeks. But until then, we’ll be using my car to get around. I feel sort of happy because it means he’ll be more reluctant to just get up and leave me. It’s not a huge fear, but it happened once and more times before then. Now, he’ll think twice about it. And I can’t help but feel like this was how he thought before I got a car of my own…but that doesn’t matter now. He’s what matters in this moment.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him, breaking the silence as he seems to bear his thoughts. He still seems hesitant to tell me, so I sigh and reach over the center console. I spot the thin silver chain dripping into his black shirt. I gently lift the “J” charm I valued more than my life out and twirl it between my thumb and index finger. He gave it back to me when I was feeling down in Venezuela. He was so sweet, so caring…but he needed it back when his mother passed…to keep him grounded like it did me after Jonah had passed.
“Do you remember why I first gave you this? How I told you it helped me? Kept me grounded?” I ask him, twisting and re-familiarizing my fingers with the charm I’d toy with to keep me sane. “It was also so you’d have a piece of me, and my trust, and my faith in both you and us as a whole…and I need you to summon all that I’ve given you to hold onto. Please, talk to me. Believe in this, because trust me, it works…”
&nbs
p; He finally looks at me. Knuckles white, eyes dark, and lips trembling. I want to hold him and never let go.
“She’s gone,” he croaks, and the loneliest tear floats down his cheek.
Oh no.
“No, no, baby. Shh…I’m here.” I unfasten my seatbelt and climb over the center console, onto his lap. I wrap my arms around him and let him sob into my heart. His sorrow pushes through me, wave after wave, like a tsunami.
“I didn’t even fucking like her, but she—she was just always there, sending me letter after letter,” he continues in between sobs. “I knew she was there, you know. A-alive. And after my father died…fuck. I just…the only family I have left is in Venezuela, and even then, they aren’t close. No siblings. Just a country-worth of fucking cousins and asshole tios and snobby tias. I just…this time of year is always shitty. But at least I had David. But that fucker isn’t even here and—fuck!”
He raises his fist to punch the glass, but I grab his wrist before it can connect. I rub his knuckles and pepper kisses against each one. He clenches his eyes closed and holds his casted arm against his hair.
“Plus, I’m just generally fucked up. Meds are shit. I’m shit. And…and—”
“Hey, now. Do not beat yourself up,” I instruct firmly but make sure to maintain a cool voice.
“I can’t help it.” He rips his hand from mine, and I try not to let it get to me. He’s clearly not in the best state of mind. I watch as he gingerly rubs his face, then drops his hands in his lap. He reaches up and slides the divider hiding the sun-roof and stares up at the bright blue skies. He looks at the sky like he can see past the atmosphere and is dancing on the stars.
“Stay with me, Grey,” I softly plead, wrapping my arms around his mid-section, tucking my head underneath his chin.
He sighs, and his chin plants itself on top of my hair. “Sometimes I just feel like I’m in a dream. Like…like you’re not even on me right now, holding me…loving me.” His voice cracks. “Sometimes I just feel so alone. I do my best to hide it, but this thing inside my head…is just so fucking screwed up, you know?”
Grey: Everlasting (Spectrum Series Book 6) Page 13