Grey: Everlasting (Spectrum Series Book 6)

by Allison White

  We are laying on the roof of our apartment building. Silent, peaceful, content. We don’t say anything, don’t fuck, don’t do anything but stare up at the ceiling. I can hear every lazy, happy pump of his heart. He has his arm slung around my waist, our legs intertwined.

  It is our seventh anniversary, and the plan is to come up here and eat the dinner he and I cooked together. Over the years, I’ve been teaching him meal after meal, eventually getting his cooking skill to a point where I don’t have to eat more char than pancake in the morning.

  But after a few bites of our delicious sirloin steak, we fall back onto our blanket and get lost in each other’s stars. He has his. I have mine. And whoever they intertwine, we can’t help but gaze at them, mesmerized.

  So there we are, holding each other and looking at our beautiful stars. But nothing compares to the stars in his eyes when he turns his head and says, “I have a present for you.”

  I smile and feel my heart skip a beat. “And I have one for you.”

  We sit up, retrieve our presents, and sit in front of each other. We look into each other’s eyes silently for a few minutes, savoring each dip and curve and blemish and twitch of mouths.

  “Can I go first?” he asks, sounding kind of nervous.

  “Please.” I nod. I need a while to gather courage to give him mine.

  He chews on his lip before he slowly reveals his hands from behind his back. He holds out a little black box, and tears dot my eyelashes. I stare at it wordlessly for a while, trying to find my heartbeat. Trying to remember how to breathe. In and out, in and out, in and…

  “Grey…?” I begin but can’t find the rest of my words.

  “I know I made you wait a hell of a long time, but I love that you waited for me to come to this conclusion on my own. Princess, you are everything I never thought I would ever be gifted with, needed. I want you in my life for the long haul. So…” He flips the cover back. “Olivia Westerfield, will you marry me?”

  My jaw drops, and tears flood my eyes. I can’t believe it. Can’t move. Can’t breathe. In and out, right?

  “Well?” he says, and I look into his scared eyes. “Is that a yes or…?”

  I chuckle and finally find the courage when I unveil my own present. A long rectangular box. I nod, saying in a low, shaky voice, “That is if you’re okay with adding one more person to the long haul…” I slowly flip the lid open, revealing a pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test.

  His eyes dim, then burst with constellations and planets, stars and freaking galaxies. “You’re…?” He raises his brows, finally looking me in the eyes. Cheeks flush pink, and eyes blink rapidly.

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “And we’re gonna…?” I glance at the ring.

  He smirks, choking out, “Hell yes.”

  And then he is sliding the ring onto my finger, telling me, “Found it in the box my grandfather gave me a few years back. He left a note to give it to the woman I’m sure I’ll spend the rest of my life with…”

  I look into his eyes, but his are staring at my stomach. I bite back a happy laugh and ask, “And you’re sure? About this? About…about me?”

  He lifts his eyes, stares at my lips, then nods. “Surer than anything else in this freaking world.”

  And then he is kissing me under our stars.

  One Year Later

  “Grey? Do you have Leyla? It’s time to go, or we’ll be late!” I call out as I push my feet into a pair of flats. I look in the mirror next to the front door, checking my light makeup. I curve a curly lock behind my ear, catching sight of my tattoo on my left wrist: Always, and a half of an ampersand symbol. Grey has the other half of the symbol and a single word: forever.

  I smile at the tattoo and the meaning and how many times we’ve uttered it to each other through the years. It means so much more with each time we tell it to each other.

  “Coming!” he calls out.

  I turn around and smile at my beautiful baby girl and my handsome husband. I catch the sight of his shining wedding band in the natural light our apartment produces. I grin from ear to ear as he hands me our pretty baby.

  I gaze into her blue eyes that are way too big for her slightly chubby face, smooth a hand over her thick dark curls that are decorated with a pink hair pin with a blue bird on it. It matches well with her pink outfit and white shoes. Dimples pop into her chubby cheeks as she makes grabby hands at my face.

  She holds onto my outstretched pinky, and I coo, bouncing her lightly. “Is baby ready to go wish cousin Sarah a happy birthday?” Her giggle is a reply, and I laugh and kiss her nose, awing over my beautiful girl. A perfect mixture between her father and me.

  Feeling eyes staring me down, I look up into black eyes and a smirk. “Weren’t you rushing me just a second ago?” he teases.

  Blushing, I roll my eyes and step back. “Open the door, please. I’m holding the most precious girl in my arms.”

  He laughs, kisses my head, hers, stares at her like she’s a precious jewel, then opens the door. “My princesses,” he bows, and she goes crazy in my arms at her silly daddy. She always laughs at him, looks at him like he sprinkled the stars in the night sky. Which is what puts her to sleep if a song on our piano doesn’t work. She especially likes listening to Billie Holiday on occasions.

  Hours after celebrating Matthew and Lily’s daughter’s birthday, we are covered in icing because Leyla kept dipping frosting onto her chubby finger of our cakes when we weren’t looking, too busy talking and laughing and staring into each other’s eyes, smiling like maniacs.

  “Love you,” I mouth.

  “Love you more,” he whispers back.

  And then our baby girl wakes up from a food coma, and we carry her home.

  Three Years Later

  Grey

  I am taking down Leyla’s crib since she’s hit four, marking the end of an era. She is going to be sleeping in a big girl bed now. Which translates to her crying like the little cute brat she is and working her perfect puppy dog face she’s inherited from her mother and sleeping with us in our bed. I wanted to make her tough it out and cry all she wanted in her bed that took me three fucking hours and two serious cuts to build. But noooo, Liv says she will eventually want her own space.

  That was five fucking months ago.

  But I can’t complain completely. Although I do it a lot, I love my baby girl. Mi pequeña princess. She is the light of my life, the best thing I ever put on this damned Earth.

  The minute I saw her…I felt bad for not wanting her for so long. But after years of watching Liv silently wallow, after years of no dropping to one knee and no regularly taking precautions, I finally felt my resolve slowly fade away and love and need for her grow incredibly big.

  I still remember laying eyes on her. She had these big blue eyes like her mama and black hair like me. And then she cried in my arms as Liv lay next to me in the hospital bed, or rather I lay next to her, after the commotion of labor ceased.

  We were thinking of names, having been too busy in a content daze throughout the entire pregnancy. I treated her like a princess, no, like a fucking queen. No hard lifting or heavy work. I decorated the entire nursery without any complaint. Well, maybe one. When I got a paper cut from throwing away an instruction manual.

  “How about Layla?” she said. It was so sudden and so…perfect.

  “Layla, I like it,” I replied. Pulling my baby girl’s entire hand latched around my pinky, I raised it to my lips and kissed it.

  “No, no. Leyla. With an E,” Liv insisted, staring down at our perfect child with love swelling in her eyes.

  “Leyla, with an E…what a perfect name for a perfect girl. Mi little princesa,” I whispered, kissing the top of her hair.

  Liv nudged me, giving me a sweaty and tired smile. “What am I, chopped liver?”

  “No.” I laughed quietly. Leyla smiled in her sleep as she bounced. I looked into Liv’s eyes and told her, “You’re my queen.”

  “Hey,” Liv says be
hind me as I focus back on the present.

  “Yeah?” I hum, unscrewing another part. This bitch is coming down in a few minutes. Finally. I can use a beer. My back is fucking killing me.

  “Might not want to take that down just yet…” she says, Milo idling by her feet, as if he is in on whatever the hell she is going on about.

  “Huh?” I mumble, swiping a hand over my sweaty forehead as I look over my shoulder.

  She walks over to me, revealing her hands from behind her back. “I said…might not want to take that down just yet,” she repeats. And then I look at what she is holding out. A fucking pregnancy test. I don’t need to see the screen to know it is positive.

  “No way.” I pop to my feet, bad back be damned.

  She nods, and tears stream down her face. “Yup, Daddy.”

  I bite my lip, pull her into my chest. “You saying that word is what got you pregnant in the first place,” I tease, and she laughs, tilting her head back. But I pull her head up and nod. “For real, though?”

  She nods again. “Yeah—Grey!” She squeals as I pick her up and begin twirling her around the room before she threatens to vomit down my back. I put her down, lean her against a wall, and kiss her. Hard. I am going to be a daddy, well, more of a daddy. And I am fucking ecstatic.

  Nine Months Later

  Grey

  “Get it,” Liv groans in her sleep, pushing me. She is referring to our banshee of a son, Levi. I shove her back but get up anyway. After kissing my queen, kissing my little princess who is going to sleep in her damn bed, I pad into the nursery.

  “Hello, little buddy,” I whisper, leaning over the crib.

  He stops crying the minute he sees me, black eyes staring up at me. “You know you’re going to be doing this for the next year, right?”

  “Yeah, I know.” I sigh as I scoop him into arms, rock him back and forth before going to the kitchen for the bottle he wants. “But I don’t mind hanging with you at two in the morning, as long as your mommy gets some sleep,” I tell him in a whisper, then gently put the bottle nipple between his little big lips. Liv lips.

  Ten Years Later

  “Mom! Dad won’t leave me alone!” Leyla stomps into the kitchen where I am tying a pink ribbon around a box of freshly made cookies. Her bright blue eyes are brimming with the anger I’ve grown used to seeing in her father’s eyes.

  Speaking of which, he stomps right after her. Even their stomping is in perfect sync, sounding the exact same. If I close my eyes, I won’t know who is who.

  “I told her about a million times that she has to get ready for Levi’s piano recital. That was an hour ago. I was getting ready, being the perfect husband and obeying you, when I checked on her. And guess what I find? Her lying on her bed, texting a boy!”

  I look at my beautiful daughter, but her similar blue eyes are rolled up into the third dimension. “Is that true, Leyla?” She doesn’t respond, and I raise a brow and put a hand on my hip. “Hello? Am I talking to a brick wall or my daughter?”

  That gets her. She looks at me, eyes wide and nose flaring. “Your daughter, I guess,” she replies in an annoyed huff, tugging at her near-black hair. She is a spitting image of her father when she acts like this.

  “You guess? Come here,” I instruct.

  She doesn’t move, only crosses her arms.

  Boy, is she the female version of her father. Down to the freaking T.

  Grey nudges her with his own crossed arms. “You heard your mother,” he says.

  I smile at him, and he winks at me. I hold in my laugh and watch as she rolls her blue eyes before slowly padding over to me. When she is close enough, I cup her chin and lean down, then whisper, “Tell Oliver he can wait until after the recital to text you. I want you watching your brother with your utmost attention and give your love and support. Understand me? Otherwise I will not hesitate to take your phone and let you spend a day with your dad.”

  Her eyes widen at the thought of spending time with her equally hot-headed father. “Please. No. I-I’ll listen, just not him.”

  “Hey, he’s still my husband. A wonderful man and even better father.” I narrow my eyes at her playfully.

  She just mumbles, “Sure, Jan,” and walks back to her room.

  “Oliver?” Grey blows up at me the minute he hears her door slam closed.

  I sigh and walk over to him, playing with his button-up collar. “She’s fourteen years old. Meaning she’s at that stage of liking boys. But that’s all they are. They won’t stick around for long,” I assure him, but his eyes don’t go back to their normal size, only widen.

  “I did,” he says with exasperation.

  I laugh and wrap my arms around his neck. “I was eighteen.”

  “That’s just four years away for her,” he groans, seeming really upset as he loops his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. Still warm, still so amazing.

  I shrug. “We’ll dress up as college students and make sure she doesn’t date,” I joke.

  He grins. “Now we’re talking.”

  I giggle and slap his chest. “I was kidding.”

  “Sure, Jan.” He winks at me, and I slap him again. He sneers at me playfully before leaning down and stealing a few kisses.

  A little voice clearing their throat pulls us apart.

  “Hey there, baby,” I coo at my ten-year-old son. “Are you ready to wow a crowd?”

  He rounds the kitchen counter, looking cute as ever in his little black suit and matching eyes. His left baby dimple pokes out when he bunches his lips to the side.

  “I don’t think I should go,” he says.

  I frown. “Why not?”

  “Shh…he said he didn’t wanna go. Kick the brat out and send him to Jaimie and Julia’s, and we can have a night to ourselves to fu—” Grey begins disgustingly.

  “Shut it,” I warn him, pushing at him a little before walking over to my little man. Spitting image of his father, he frowns in his forehead and on his pouty lips of mine as I squat down.

  “What’s wrong, baby-boy?” I ask, lacing my fingers through his hair.

  He looks at the ground, avoiding my eyes. “I don’t know…”

  “Yes, you do.” I poke his side, and he flashes me his teeth at me, dimple bright and furious. “Tell me, baby. Please.” I cup his face, bringing him closer to me.

  He bursts into giggles, then says with a sigh, “There’s this girl I like…”

  “Him too?” Grey exclaims.

  “Hush!” I shush him over my shoulder.

  He rolls his eyes, leans against the counter like he is going to explain. His babies are growing up too fast for him. He can barely keep up with them.

  “Continue, baby,” I urge Levi.

  But because of his father’s outburst, he shakes his head and retreats to his sister’s room. A fight will surely break out because of their natural sibling connection, but then she’ll comfort him, and we’ll find them hugging on her bed. Heads dropped into neck crooks.

  I hit Grey’s chest. “Nice work, genius,” I hiss.

  He grabs my wrist, pulls me closer, sorry written in his eyes before he can even utter it. “I’m sorry, baby.” He kisses my knuckles, and I melt into his touch, forgiving him instantly.

  “I just…fuck. They’re growing up so fast. Too damn fast, if you ask me.”

  I sigh, kissing his forever marred knuckles. “I know. I feel the same way…but we just gotta enjoy and savor every minute before they grow up fully. Which is, unfortunately, out of our control.”

  “Fucking sucks,” is all he says.

  “Yeah,” I agree in a sigh.

  We stay this way a long time, me in his chest, his lips pressed against my hair. Until finally, their little bickering slows down and there is radio silence in the house.

  “As for him being scared about the recital…we got this?” I raise a brow, holding out my fist.

  “Fucking totally.” He touches his fist with mine with a little nose scrunch I laugh at. He pulls me into his
chest again and kisses the top of my hair.

  That Night

  Liv

  We are on the rooftop, lying on a blanket, fingers and bodies intertwined. Silence and heartbeats and love surround us. We say nothing. Do nothing. Just stare up at the stars, wine buzzing in our veins. The kids are asleep, and so is the rest of New York. But he and I are the only ones up, fascinated with the night sky.

  “Grey?” I say, shifting my loving gaze to his face. I scan the blacks of his eyes, the scars, the curve of his long eyelashes, the dip of his cupid’s bow on his mouth. Everything and anything and nothing. It is like looking at him for the first time every time I look at him. I catch him staring at me.

  “Yes, princesa?” he responds.

  I take a moment, then two, then smile and say, “I love you.”

  He flashes me his canine teeth and two deep and perfectly perfect dimples. “And I love you.”

  Contented with saying it, I lay my head against his chest.

  Moments pass before I call his name again.

  “Grey?”

  “Yes, princesa?”

  A moment, then, “Thank you for breaking into my dorm room.”

  He laughs and kisses the top of my hair. “Thank you for not giving up on me. I am so grateful for you fighting for me, for me fighting for you, for our love.”

  Letting my eyes drift closed, I whisper, “Always…”

  “And forever,” he whispers back.

  Acknowledgements

  First and foremost, I have to thank the readers, the people who gave #Ley a chance. Who felt the ups and downs of the couple, as if their pain and joy were their own; who recognized the couple’s flaws and loved them anyway. I know I’m the author, but Grey and Olivia are the only couple to give me such heartache and make me, the author, want to rip my hair out and scream at everything and anything. They went through hell and back and came out on top because their love is what held their relationship together, and I couldn’t be more impressed by the people who didn’t just write them off and loved them for who they were and what they could be. It’s been a wild rollercoaster, but we made it to the end, and I hope it was worth the trip.