Grey: Everlasting (Spectrum Series Book 6)

by Allison White

  Finally, I retreat back inside the apartment, locking the patio door behind me.

  ***

  A few hours later, I am driving home. I’m coming home from the internship, which went remarkably quick with how focused on the work I was. I drank cup after cup of coffee, chatting more with co-workers, even ones I’d never said more than a “hello” to when passing by. I laughed harder, smiled bigger, and slowly but surely worked the effects of Grey Wyler out of my system until I felt more like my previous, happy self before he crashed into my life a few days ago.

  I pull into my reserved parking spot in front of the building. I huff out a breath of relief as I pull the key out of the engine, letting the car engine fall asleep. I’ve out socialed myself, and all I want in this world is to go up and pass out on my bed. I know I’ll be out like a light the minute my body hits the bed. I push the door open, step out, shiver because of the relentless snow that’s making more a mess on the sidewalk, and lock the car after me.

  I’m so busy putting my keys back in my purse that I almost miss the hairs on my neck rise and my stomach clam up. My heart rises and falls deeply, letting me feel every single beat.

  Grey’s here.

  The second I think it, realize I’m right, I look up. He looks up too. He’s leaning against my apartment building, smoking a cigarette. A tattoo peeking out of his collar and lips full around the tip of the cigarette, he looks too dangerous for this world. Enough so that the building’s security guy, Jared, is coincidentally lingering outside, eyeing Grey from the corner of his eye.

  “Everything is fine, Jared. You can go back inside,” I snap at him, angry that he’d be all up on Grey just because he doesn’t fit in the neighborhood. I could be angry at Grey with a thousand suns, but I would never allow someone to identify him as a threat when he’s doing nothing but minding his own business.

  With a stiff nod and one last glance to Grey, who looks unbothered and used to it, he retreats inside the fancy hotel-looking building.

  Sighing out a cold puff of air, I walk up to Grey, glaring at him, baring my teeth. “What are you doing here?”

  “Nice to see you too,” he says with a sweet smile as the intoxicating puff of smoke leaves his pink lips.

  “Grey…” I say warningly.

  “Liv…” he mocks, lips quirking up wickedly.

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t have time for you.” I begin to walk off, but he grabs my hand and pulls me back to stand in front of him. His eyes search my face. I can’t even help the blush settling under my skin.

  “Gimme a sec. Please,” he says, almost pleadingly.

  I look into his eyes, nothing but sincerity. I rip my hand from his anyway, and hurt crosses his eyes, jaw clenching.

  “I thought you left,” I admit. I cross my arms. I can’t help but sound annoyed, accusing, and pissed off. Can he tell I want to rip his head off his stupid gorgeous body and put it on a freaking spear?

  He frowns genuinely, like he didn’t expect that. “Why would you think that?” More smoking. I watch with an air of disgust, wave the gray smoke away.

  “You should really stop smoking.” I ignore his stupid question.

  “I am,” he says as he takes another long drag.

  I tilt my head. “Right.” I eye the cigarette as he pulls it out of his mouth.

  He quirks a smile before letting it drop and crushing it beneath his boot. “I am. Cut down to one a day. Soon enough I’ll be quitting.”

  “When’s soon enough?” I ask.

  He shrugs, blows out any remaining smoke.

  “Right.” I smile tightly. “Well, it’s freezing out here. I guess I’ll see you around, Grey Wyler.” I start for the door again, but I’m suddenly whirled around and gently pressed to the marble wall. “What are you—”

  “Why did you think I left?” He cuts me off, eyes probing for the answer.

  I frown. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  He shakes his head no. “No. Tell me,” he lightly demands.

  I contemplate saying “fuck off” and sashaying into the building, but he truly looks lost and concerned. Which makes my next words wobble just the slightest. “I woke up to your side of the bed empty. I felt like crap…and then I found your even crappier note, and I thought you left New York. Thought…I thought…” I swallow.

  “You thought I fucked you, then just left you. Forever or…?” he inquires, voice soft. I suck my bottom lip, look away from his intense eyes. “Liv, please talk to me. Forever or…?” he repeats, lifting my head back until I’m looking into his eyes. Tears blind my vision. “For fuck’s sake…I’d never do that to you, Liv. Never.” He looks hurt that I’d think he would.

  “I’m sorry,” I say earnestly. “The note, the words, they just led me to believe—”

  His lips cut me off. Soft, healing—the kiss fixes my messed-up deception of his disappearance. He presses his lips against mine for what seems like hours, long enough for the world to figure out its ugliness and become beautiful just for us.

  When he finally pulls back, it’s too soon.

  I kiss his lips greedily, apologizing for thinking that way of him.

  He pulls away again, pulls back, and looks me in the eyes with such intensity and fire that it scares me for a second, then assures me he really loves me. The world is beautiful for just a few more seconds.

  “I left because I had to take care of something,” he explains, and I smile softly.

  “What did you do?” I ask, half-accusing and half-excited. I like the way his eyes light up, a smile working its way onto his lips. I feel bad for what I thought he did, and I grab one quick kiss.

  He smiles even wider. “I have a present for you,” he whispers, like it’s a secret.

  A giggle escapes my mouth. “What is it?”

  “It’s a surprise,” he claims.

  “But I wanna know.” I pout at him, and he steals another kiss.

  “I’m going to show you now, but you have to wear a blindfold,” he instructs, backing away. I think he’s going to leave me, but he assures me quickly by pulling me off the wall. Our fingers lace together, and I beam up at him. Admire the geeky smile on his mouth.

  “And almost bust my ass again because you can’t direct correctly?” I tease him, referring to when he took me to my old home on Thanksgiving night.

  He rolls his eyes and guides me into his car, but I don’t miss the blush creeping up his neck and resting in his cheeks. “Shut up,” he says jokingly, closing the door after me. I laugh and watch as he jogs around the hood, sliding in his side. He snatches a black blindfold off the dashboard and puts it on me.

  “Should I ask why you have a blindfold randomly on your car dashboard?” I ask, giving him what I hope is a teasing smirk.

  His lips touch mine for a second, then the engine roars to life. I missed the sound.

  “No,” he answers, then we’re off.

  Time crawls at a torturing, slow pace.

  “Are we close?” I ask for what I think is the millionth time.

  “Yes,” he says. He picks up my hand closest to him and kisses the back of it. I smile, and I know he sees it, because he laughs, and I squeeze my fingers around his. A little bit more time passes by with the engine purring, the radio on low, and his steady breathing.

  “We’re here!” he suddenly shouts.

  I jump and scream out. “Jesus! Fuck, Grey, don’t do that!” I throw my left hand out, connecting with his arm. I think. Could have been his face. But too damn bad. He scared the absolute crap out of me.

  “Sorry,” he says. He’s blushing, I can sense it. “I’m gonna lead you out. Just listen to me, and there won’t be any problems this time,” he promises. But he also sounds like he’s blaming me for last time.

  I throw my hand out, his hand catches it, lips kiss it. I blush and tug at it, and he tugs back. This is frustrating because I want to see him and hit him where I’m aiming. “Just…come and help me out, goof.”

  A few seconds after I hear a doo
r open and shut, the cold February air hits me. He takes my hands and helps me out of the car. It slams shut, and I jump into his side. Slap his throat. He laughs, and I feel the vibration before blushing and letting him take both of my hands.

  The next few minutes are filled with him making loud noises to mask other noises. I hear the faint sound of metal crunching, a ding, and boots scrubbing. We walk and walk and walk until we’re standing in front of something. I want to reach out and touch it, but he holds both of my hands tightly, so I don’t.

  Fresh air hits me, and I am walking some more.

  “Just a little bit more, some more, and…we’re here!” he announces, all giddy-like.

  I giggle at his excitement and feel my heart pound in anticipation. “I guess we are! Please take this thing off. I think I’m losing my sight by the second,” I tell him, and he laughs before pulling it off like he’s a waiter revealing a chef’s special meal.

  I am momentarily blinded by light and his rambling. I can’t focus on anything that he’s saying as I gingerly rub my eyes. I blink at the floor, then finally look around. I pout, confused. We’re standing in the middle of an empty apartment. Natural light pours in beautifully because of the high windows.

  I do a slow circle, taking in the beauty of it. Brick walls, granite kitchen counters, shiny wooden floors. The architecture is beautifully simple. There’s a fireplace with real logs—I know from the strong woody smell—high shaped ceilings, a built-in cherry wood shelf, and so much more. My brain can’t comprehend its beauty. I’m envious of whoever lives here.

  “…we can move in as soon as tomorrow,” Grey’s words finally hit me.

  I put a hand to my chest. “What? Why would we move into someone else’s apartment? We’re already breaking and entering as much as it is.” I laugh unsteadily, staring up at the black beams holding up half of a second floor. A spiral staircase leads to a small area, but it’d be perfect for a reading nook or a second living room, or just a hideaway, great for a built-in fort. I can imagine Grey and me making a fort of our own, with pillows and sheets and teddy bears he wins for me at Coney Island.

  “You can’t break and enter your own home,” he says, his voice low and raspy.

  I turn around to him, furrowing my brows. “This isn’t our place,” I say, smiling nervously.

  “Yes. It is.” He steps over to me, takes one of my hands, and opens my loose fist. He drops a single key onto my palm. “The down payment alone is risking putting me in so much debt my future-self wants to strangle me to death right now, but your happiness is worth it. You are worth it, Liv.” My stomach does flips, and tears bubble in my eyes. “Welcome home,” he whispers.

  “You bought…this is for…for…?” I can’t even speak properly.

  He nods with the biggest, most beautiful smile. “For us,” he confirms.

  I back away, shocked and filled with so much joy, I can barely stand. I fall to my knees, and he follows me, still holding that radiant smile. “B-but, when did you…?”

  “The moment I entered New York,” he says.

  I burst into tears and lean into his neck. I look around as he wraps his arms around my waist, presses me close to him, breathes me in and sags in relief. “This is ours…”

  “Yes,” he mumbles into my skin, giving me a little kiss. “Yes, it is.”

  “I can’t believe this.” I break down into heart-wrenching sobs. Is this real? Or am I dreaming?

  He pulls back and nods. “Believe it, baby.” And then his eyes are glistening and pulling me to my feet. “I want to do something,” he says. After doing this, he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

  “Sure, whatever.” I nod, swiping tears from my cheeks.

  He picks me up and runs out of the apartment.

  “Grey!” I squeal out of shock.

  He turns around, faces the open door, and slowly walks back inside the apartment. My heart explodes, it hurts so good. He looks at me with the utmost love and adoration and whispers against my lips, peering into my soul with his black eyes. “Welcome home, princess.”

  “Welcome home, Grey.” I brush his hair behind his ear.

  And then his lips are on mine, and I’m transported to our favorite place: the middle ground, The Grey.

  Epilogue

  Our first night in the apartment is cold because the heat hasn’t been turned on in a month since the last tenants lived in it. But that doesn’t matter. We could be lying on an iceberg in the middle of a snowstorm in the Arctic, and I still will have the heat of a million suns from Grey’s embrace. He makes everything warmer, better. I truly believe it. Still do to this day.

  Wearing fuzzy socks—me, at least—and hoodies, draped in about a hundred different blankets, we huddle together on the mattress of our master bedroom. Our…huh, it still feels like the best thing in the world to say that. Anyway…

  I woke up in the middle of the night, feeling eyes on me. I slowly open my eyes and peer over his body. I think I see a little boy standing in the corner of the dark room. Instead of freaking out like one would upon finding a ghost boy watching you sleep, I smile. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders.

  I don’t know why, but I just know that he won’t hurt me or anything. He smiles back, and I only realize who he is when I wake up for the second time, this time hours later.

  “What’s wrong?” Grey mumbles, waking up from my stirring this time.

  I lean back on the pillow and stare at his lips, then into his drowsy half-closed eyes. “Nothing. Everything’s perfect.” I kiss his nose, lips, then fall right back to sleep. Hugged, warm, and content. I have a feeling things will look up for us from that night of the ghost smile.

  Four Years Later

  “Where is Max? I have my something new, borrowed, all I need is blue,” complains Lily. She grunts for the millionth time for the day, tugging at the sweetheart neckline of her gorgeous wedding dress. I was there when she picked it out. It was her twentieth, when she decided it’d do. I thought she’d wear every dress in the bridal store before she chose a dress from Sears or something.

  She looks over her shoulder at me. “Can you please go find that little boy for me before I go myself and tear his little—”

  “Calm down, Lil,” I instruct.

  She takes a really big breath and huffs it out. “I’m cool, I’m calm,” she says through gritted teeth as she faces the full-length mirror.

  “Better be,” growls Julia. “Have another bitch fit and she might go into labor,” she warns with “don’t fuck with me” eyes, even though this is Lil’s wedding.

  “Oh, hush. I’m not due for another five weeks,” Jaimie coos, scratching under her fiancée’s chin. Julia jerks back, rolling her eyes. I smile, admiring Jaimie’s huge stomach, stretched under her loose light-blue dress.

  She is due to deliver in, as she just said, five weeks. After getting engaged last year, they were desperate to have a baby. So they did some swirl thing insemination. And here she is. Almost ready to pop out a beautiful baby girl.

  “Mom, I have your blue thing,” Max interrupts, shoving his head in. His deep green eyes glimmer, and he smiles as he gazes at his mother. He steps inside and walks up to her, wrapping his arms around her, pressing his full-head of darker blond curls into her stomach. “You look beautiful,” he whispers.

  I aww, clasping my hands under my chin.

  Lily’s bridezilla persona softens instantly as she holds back tears, holding her son’s head, ruffling it. He laughs, and so does she. A tear drops down her perfectly made-up face. “Thank you, Maxxie.”

  I wipe the tear away carefully before retreating to the floral sofa. I swipe away my own tears, watching the sweet, pure interaction. He’s grown so beautifully over the seemingly short four years.

  The ceremony is even sweeter. I watch two of my best friends get married, and I am the one crying harder than anyone in the room. I get a few laughs, but I’m not trying to be funny. I am so emotional. I can’t stop. And it is worse because I am next to her as
a bridesmaid. The thought of being one for Jaimie and Julia’s wedding makes me cry even more, but thankfully the thought comes as they are kissing, and light blue hydrangeas petals are thrown in the air.

  The reception is spent talking, laughing, and Grey and I dancing to slow songs. Fast songs too, but not for long. My feet squeeze in protest, and we sit and talk some more. He can’t stop kissing me, telling me how beautiful I look. And I can’t stop telling him how handsome he looks in his suit and finally tamed black hair. His black eyes shine just a little more each time he looks at me.

  Then we are dancing to another slow song. I am barefoot and on his expensive shoes, but he doesn’t mind. It is a heart-melting song called “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. Grey won’t stop going on about how well the lyrics relate to how he feels about me. He sings the lyrics to me, whispering them in my ear like a secret meant only for him and me.

  Laughing, I pull my head from his warm chest and smile up at him. “The ceremony was cute, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah. I especially liked the bridesmaid who couldn’t stop crying,” he teases, his voice deeper, more mature somehow. But he is still teasing and annoying.

  I squeeze my arms wrapped around his neck. “Don’t tease me. I’m still emotional.” I sniffle for effect.

  “I’m sorry, princess. I won’t do it anymore.” He smiles a knowing smile and bows his head, swaying us back and forth to the beat of the perfect “Perfect” song.

  “Hey, Grey?” I say.

  “Yes, princess?” he hums, resting his chin atop my head.

  “I love you,” I whisper another secret. Only for him. Always him.

  He smiles against my head, pecks my forehead, and whispers another secret. “I love you too.”

  One Month Later