“It’s all in the wrist.”
While he cut up artichokes, she buttered a deep casserole dish, added two packs of cherry tomatoes, and stirred in some crushed townhouse crackers. She added a few more pats of butter along with some sun-dried tomato vinaigrette salad dressing. “I never said it was exactly healthy,” she said.
“Looks a lot healthier than how I usually eat,” he admitted.
She added in spices and stirred in his artichokes, then put the whole thing in the oven.
“It looks good,” he said. “What’s it called?”
“I call it my sun-dried tomato dish,” she said.
He took a step toward her and she didn’t back away. He took another step and was now in her space. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked into those gorgeous green eyes. As he bent close, she closed her eyes and tilted her head up. He placed his lips next to the corner of her mouth. Her intake of breath was ragged. He put his arms around her and pulled her against him.
“Oh,” he said. “I brought you something.” He’d nearly forgotten.
“What is it?
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tickets to the baseball game. “Tickets for Saturday’s game,” he said, fanning the three tickets.
“You got three,” she said.
“Of course. You don’t think I’d leave Danielle out, do you?”
She grinned. And wrapped her arms around him. “You’re awesome.”
Her phone rang. “It’s Martie,” she said.
“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll just answer some student emails on my phone.”
Claire wandered down the hall as she talked to her assistant. Grayson hadn’t been exaggerating. He only thought he had a lot of emails to answer before the test. Turns out he was even more inundated after the test.
He couldn’t understand why a student who hadn’t had the time to prepare for an exam wanted to ask for more work. He politely stated that he had a policy against extra credit and let it go. While he typed, he sat down at Claire’s breakfast table. After he finished answering all his emails, he set down his phone and waited.
His gaze wandered to a note pad where she had scribbled notes about yoga and meditation classes. Intrigued, he read over her notes. Her ideas were spot on.
Get people in. Get them comfortable.
And they become customers.
He heard her say the word yoga to Martie. Claire was one of the most driven people he had ever met. She didn’t just talk about doing things. She did them.
He flipped the page, wondering what else she had come up with during her two days in New York museums. And there, tucked beneath the page was a napkin. A man’s name and a phone number was scrawled across the napkin. The handwriting was definitely not Claire’s.
Allen Samuels.
Hearing Claire wrapping up her conversation, he dropped the paper to conceal the napkin and picked up his phone. As she come in his direction, he stood up.
“That was Martie,” she said. “We’re starting up a meditation class.”
“That sounds interesting,” he said. Actually, it was fascinating, but he couldn’t think past the buzzing in his ears. Had Claire picked up a guy while she was in New York?
While she checked the dish in the oven, she chatted about how she’d come up with the idea for the class. “I wish I’d thought of it myself,” she said. “But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with building on an idea,” she said, straightening to face him. Her face was alive with excitement.
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” he said. “I admire your grit in making things happen.”
Some of the excitement faded from her expression as she watched him. He scrubbed at his face. “I need to borrow your restroom,” he said.
He turned and strode to her restroom. He closed the door and stood there, inhaling deeply.
This was not good. He didn’t want to be the guy who put a downer on his girl’s ideas. Just the opposite. He was supportive. He loved her idea. He just couldn’t get the thought of her meeting someone in New York out of his head.
Maybe he didn’t really know her. He only knew who she used to be. Or what she appeared to be. He didn’t know the circumstances of her divorce. He hadn’t asked and didn’t think it was his business.
Was Claire the kind of girl who went off and met guys on a whim?
His gut said no.
He splashed cool water on his face. In truth, they hadn’t talked about their relationship being exclusive. Did adults even do that? In high school, they’d said they were “going together.” When did they get to the point of not seeing other people? He’d just assumed they were exclusive.
Perhaps he had no right to do that. Perhaps it needed to be stated. Talked about. Considered.
It had been a couple of years since he’d had a steady girlfriend. He couldn’t even remember how they’d gotten to point of being steady. Or if they even had. He’d like her, but he couldn’t remember worrying too much about what she did with her own time.
Again, he had a tendency to make a lot of assumptions.
But not with Claire. He didn’t want to mistakenly make assumptions. And he surely didn’t want her going to New York or anywhere for that matter picking up men.
“Grayson, are you alright?” Claire asked from the other side of the door.
“I’m okay. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Whatever it was, he couldn’t go all Neanderthal on her. He didn’t know how she was coping with his leaving again.
He had to take it slow and let the relationship build. When the time was right, he’d bring it up and they could agree to be exclusive. Whatever people called it these days.
He would most definitely bring it up before he left for Pittsburgh.
Feeling much calmer now, he found her in the kitchen getting plates from the cabinet.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked. “You looked a little unwell for a minute.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m good. I’m probably just need to eat something.”
“It’s ready,” she said.
“Great. Here,” he said, reaching for the hot pad. “Let me get that out.”
Some of the suspiciousness was back in her eyes. He kicked himself for that. She filled their plates with the tomato casserole and they went into the living room, and settled on the couch to eat.
“Wow. This is really, really good,” he said, after the first bite.
She chucked. “You sound surprised.”
“You’re the one who self-professed not to do much cooking.”
“Just because I don’t do it much, doesn’t mean I can’t,” she said with a mischievous smile.
“I’ll have to remember that about you. You’re a woman of many hidden talents.”
“That’s right,” she said.
“Want to tell me about other hidden talents?” he asked. Even as he said the words, he knew he was headed down a path he’d told himself he wouldn’t go.
“Oh no,” she said, teasingly. “Discovery is the best part of the process.”
“Is that so?” he asked.
“It is. Besides, think about how little I know about you,” she said. “I haven’t even been to your place. I don’t have any idea how you live.”
“It’s nothing to get excited about,” he said. “I promise.”
“Maybe not, but you know everything about me. You know my decorating style. I don’t even know what color hand towels you have.”
“Hand towels?”
“Yeah. You know. Basic stuff.”
He thought about his little apartment. And compared it to her fancy house. Once she saw how he lived, she may lose interest in him. He didn’t and couldn’t live the way she did. She had done a nice job of distracting him from the mysterious Allen Samuels. He may as well get it over with. His philosophy was to snap it off like a band-aid. If she didn’t like that part of him, it was a good time to find out.
“Alright,” he said. “Tomor
row then.”
“Tomorrow then what?”
“Tomorrow I’ll cook dinner for you at my house.”
She looked at him sideways. “Okay,” she said.
“Hey,” he held up his hands. “It was your idea.”
“So we’re seeing each other three days in a row.”
And he thought he was quick to cut to the chase. Seeing each other. That didn’t sound quite as committed as going together.
He shrugged. “Unless you have something already planned.” He sat back. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“No,” she said. “I don’t.”
“We can wait. Take a break.”
“No,” she said. “I don’t want to take a break.”
“Claire,” he said. “If you have something else going on, just tell me.”
“I don’t have anything else going on.”
“If there’s someone else in New York… it’s okay.”
She huffed out a breath. “There’s not anyone in New York. I just needed to clear my head. That’s all. I didn’t even get out except to go to two museums.”
He shouldn’t ask about it directly. If he did, he’d be admitting that he’d looked through her papers. But… if he didn’t ask about it, it was going to eat at him.
After dinner, Claire put their plates in the dishwasher. She couldn’t figure out what was going on with Grayson.
He’d been different since she took the call from Martie. Was he jealous of work? He shouldn’t be. He’d spent the time answering emails from students. Did he think Martie was someone else? Another man, perhaps?
“You know Martie’s a girl, right?” She said suddenly, whirling around to face him.
“Of course,” he said. “I met her, remember, at your fundraiser.”
“Right,” she said. Wiping off the cabinet. Still. Something was off. “That was Martie who called earlier.”
“I know. You told me.”
“Do you want to watch TV?” she asked.
“Sure.”
They went into the living room and turned on the television. Whatever it was, it wasn’t bad enough that he wanted to leave, but it was bad enough that he was acting distant.
“Was everything okay with your emails?” she asked.
“Yeah. Just normal questions from students.”
“Then what’s bothering you?”
He just stared at her.
“I’ll get us some water,” she said, standing up. She started toward the kitchen, then stopped and stood squarely in front of him. “I know something’s bothering you. Since I talked to Martie. But I can’t figure out what it could be.”
“Something is bothering me, but I can’t figure out how to tell you.”
She crossed her arms. “That’s better. Maybe you should just spit it out.”
“I’m worried that you met someone in New York.”
“Okay, maybe you should spit it out in such a way that it makes sense to me.”
He inhaled deeply, locked his gaze on hers. “Alright. While you were talking to Martie I sat at your table and happened to see your notes about the yoga classes. I think it’s an awesome idea, by the way. After I finished my emails, I was thinking about your classes and I read your notes.” He paused. Waited.
“Okay,” she said.
“I saw the phone number for Allen Samuels,” he said.
“What phone…?” She must have left that napkin in her papers from her trip. He was worried about that? She snorted. Then bit her lip.
“What?”
“You should have just told me.”
“I didn’t want you to think I was snooping.”
“I’d rather think you were snooping than acting all funny.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Allen gave me his phone number. He asked me to call him about a business deal. Then he started to hit on me. So I told him I wasn’t interested.”
“You kept the number.”
“He’s a business colleague whose wife recently passed away. I think he’s going through some stuff.”
“I see.”
“Grayson, you have to tell me these things. You have to tell me what’s bothering you and not keep it inside.”
“You’re right,” he said.
“You teach this stuff, right?”
“I do. But helping others do it is a whole lot easier than doing it myself.”
“Don’t worry, okay?”
He stood up, pulled her close, and wrapped his arms around her. “Okay, my love, I won’t worry. But I have an early meeting in the morning and I need to look over my notes for tomorrow’s classes.”
“You’re leaving,” she said against his shoulder.
He nudged her back a bit, and she saw the smile playing about his lips. “Don’t worry, okay?”
“Ha. Point taken.”
She walked him to the door. He kissed her goodnight. A gentle kiss on the lips. More. She wanted more. But he kissed her on the forehead and then he was gone. “Lock the door,” he said as he stepped out.
She locked the door and set the alarm before she went back to sit on the couch and hugged a pillow to her.
It was early, but she should have heard from Danielle already. She sent her a text asking for her ETA.
Might sleep over at Sam’s. Do you mind?
Yes. Instead she typed. No. Just let me know.
A couple of minutes later Danielle wrote back. See you tomorrow.
Another evening to herself. Her interactions with Grayson had felt off. That was the only way to describe it. The evening had started off well enough. Then after she’d talked to Martie, things had changed. He said it was because he’d found Allen Samuel’s phone number. Surely he hadn’t really been worried about that.
Then she remembered seeing a text come through on her ex-husband, phone. She still remembered the words. Looking forward to our trip.
He’d explained it away. It was a female pilot. Michelle maybe? Noah said they had a flight together – the first one in some time. He explained that Michelle tended to blur boundaries.
But more than the words and the explanation, she remembered the feeling. Just thinking about it brought that sick feeling back to the pit of her stomach. It was the kind of thing that never went away.
She got up, went into the kitchen, and found the napkin with Allen’s phone number. She balled it up and tossed in the trash. She should have done that to start with. She’d thought they could work together. But Allen wasn’t in a place to do that right now. Maybe later. If so, he could contact her. She wasn’t hard to find.
There was nothing else she could do about it now. She just needed to give Grayson time. Time to believe her.
Keep moving forward.
Chapter Twelve
Grayson drove straight home. He felt unsettled. He’d wanted his renewed relationship with Claire to be clean. That was the beauty of starting over. At least it should have been.
Instead he found himself worrying about things that probably didn’t mean anything.
Probably.
The downside to starting over was the other side of the coin. He expected everything to slip into place without the normal getting to know each other stage. He was finding out that even with starting over, that phase couldn’t be skipped.
It was going to take some time to blend their lives back together. That job in Pittsburgh loomed over his head. Like an angry deadline. He felt like they had to cram all the preliminary
requirements to a long-term relationship into the few weeks before he left.
That was unrealistic. He needed to get his head straight.
The next morning after class, everything went off the tracks.
He had to stay through the afternoon to help out with advising. It wasn’t his day, but being the low man on the totem pole meant he had to take up the slack. Then the department chair called a meeting at the last minute.
It baffled him that the other faculty members didn’t seem to mind the last minute requ
est. One of the ladies even brought brownies.
The meeting did nothing but put Grayson in a foul mood. He had planned on getting home in time to clean his apartment before Claire came over. And he needed to go by the supermarket.
By five o’clock, they were still discussing the merits of changing their program requirements.
Grayson stepped out for a restroom break to send Claire a message. Stuck in a meeting. Can we reschedule for another night?
She responded quickly. No problem.
The timing on this was not good.
Claire stepped out of her heels, sat down hard on the bed, and blew her bangs out of her eyes.
“Great,” she said out loud. “Just great.”
She’d left the museum early and stopped by the Blow Dry Bar. Her hair felt light, bouncy, and straight, with just a little flip on the ends.
She wanted to be mad, but she’d had it happen too many times before. How many times had Noah’s flight been delayed? She couldn’t even remember.
She unzipped her dress, but stopped when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
Another evening at home. Alone.
It seemed to be the way of things.
But the way of things didn’t have to be.
She zipped her dress back up and put her shoes back on. Grabbing her handbag, she headed back downstairs.
She didn’t have to go to New York. There was an exhibit tonight at the Natural History Museum that she’d been thinking about going to. If she left now, she could make it.
As she was backing out of her driveway, her phone buzzed. It was Martie asking her to stop by the gallery. I need help with something. If you aren’t busy.
Claire sighed. Why did Martie always think she was available? Probably because she was. She wrote back, I’ll be right there.
And why indeed was she always available? I’m a business woman first, she always told herself. The gallery was on the way to the museum. She could swing by, then head to the museum. She put her phone in her bag and set it on the seat beside her.
As she pulled onto the street, her phone buzzed again. “You’ll just have to wait, Martie,” she said out loud. “I’m on my way.”
Grayson sat in the meeting, listening to the other faculty members go on and on about things no one could possibly really care about. He checked his watch.
Love Again: Love's Second Chance Series Page 12