Love Again: Love's Second Chance Series

by Kathryn Kelly

  He’d made a promise to Claire.

  No faculty meeting was worth breaking a promise to the woman he loved. What kind of message would he be sending if he didn’t show up tonight?

  After the way things went last night, ditching out on her tonight was the worst possible thing he could do.

  After five weeks, he would probably never even see these people again. Maybe at a conference. Maybe.

  He fidgeted in his chair. Checked the time on his phone again.

  He wouldn’t do it.

  He wouldn’t cancel out on her like this. He didn’t have time to clean his apartment or go to the supermarket, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t see each other.

  He typed a message. Since I didn’t make it to the supermarket or have time to pick up my dirty socks, if I bring pizza, can I come over?

  He waited. Staring at his phone as though staring at it would cause her to respond. He waited five minutes. Ten. The faculty members droned on and on. Fifteen minutes and no response.

  His decision made, he got up and quietly walked out of the meeting. As the door closed behind him, he heard them still talking, not a hitch in the conversation.

  He got into his car and drove straight to Claire’s house. He hated her garage. He couldn’t tell if she was home or not. Since she hadn’t answered his text, he decided not bring pizza.

  He rang the doorbell. Waited.

  Then he walked around to the backyard to see if there were any lights on. The house was dark. She definitely wasn’t home. Unless she was asleep.

  When she was home, the house was lit up like a baseball stadium.

  Walking around aimlessly, he noticed there was a garage window. It was small, and over his head, but since he was in the backyard anyway, he decided to see if he could take a peek into the garage.

  He had to drag a chair over from the patio and climb into it. He imagined the trouble he would be in if Claire came home and found him lying in her back yard, mangled from falling off a chair.

  While peeking into her garage.

  Of course, it could be days before she found him. He’d never known her to go outside much. She might notice him one day when she was taking out the trash.

  At any rate, she wasn’t home. The garage was empty.

  Climbing down without mishap, he dragged the chair back to its rightful place.

  He should go home. And try to call again tomorrow.

  He wandered back around to the front of the house.

  He would wait.

  Since he was parked in her driveway, he realized she would know he was there. That was a relief. At least if he’d fallen in her backyard, she’d have known to go looking for him.

  He went to the front steps of the house, sat down, and waited.

  His stomach growled. Maybe he should have gotten the pizza after all. At least, then he would have something to eat. He thought about having something delivered, but somehow it seemed that would dilute the whole gesture of waiting for her.

  He checked his phone. Answered some more emails. Did they never end? He sent one word answers – yes and no. At least they couldn’t complain that he didn’t answer in a timely manner, even on a Friday night.

  He was reminded of one of his professors in graduate school, an older man nearing retirement who proclaimed email to be evil and the Internet to be the downfall of civilization. At the time he’d pitied the man. Now he understood completely. Unfortunately, the professor had been forced into retirement when he refused to teach online classes.

  He reclined against the steps, his elbows propped behind him, his legs stretched out. He decided he should use the time to think about what he would say to Claire when she got home instead of worrying about old professors or student emails.

  As the sun set and darkness settled over him, Grayson decided that grand gestures were sorely overrated.

  He’d promised he wouldn’t show up without calling first.

  Perhaps he should try calling.

  He quickly dismissed that idea and decided to stay the course. It would be much harder to ignore him if he was standing in front of her. Besides, there were exceptions to every promise.

  By the time Claire had resolved Martie’s dilemma, it was too late to make it to the museum.

  Martie rarely had a dilemma she couldn’t handle, but when one of the paintings had arrived with a rip in the top right-hand corner, she’d panicked.

  “What do we do?” Martie asked, searching Claire’s face.

  “Did you call the artist?” Claire asked.

  Martie’s eyes widened with another wave of panic. “No way,” she said.

  “I’ll call her,” Claire decided.

  When Claire got off the phone with the artist thirty minutes later, they’d decided to meet in the morning to assess whether the painting could be salvaged.

  “Was she upset?” Martie asked.

  “No, I mean, sure a little,” Claire said, “but she understood that it wasn’t anyone’s fault. These things happen.”

  “It just had to happen to us.”

  Claire laughed. “Yes. It figures, doesn’t it?”

  It was getting late, so they locked up together, and Claire headed home.

  When she pulled into her driveway, she had to slam on her brakes to keep from hitting the car parked in her driveway.

  It looked like Grayson’s car. Her heart did a little flip of anticipation, followed by a spurt of trepidation. Grayson said he was working late tonight. He wouldn’t be here if he was working late.

  The next thought was Danielle. She was supposed to be at her grandmother’s house.

  Claire dug her phone out of her bag and saw that she only had the one message. The one she had thought was from Martie.

  Which she now saw was from Grayson. Something about dirty socks and pizza.

  She lifted her eyes from his message and saw him standing on her front porch.

  How long had he been waiting?

  She got out of her car and walked toward him. He slowly walked down the stairs, his hands in his pockets. As she got closer, she could see that he looked tired. And a little frustrated.

  She would be frustrated, too, if she’d spent the evening waiting on someone’s front porch.

  They didn’t say anything as they walked toward each other. Then his arms were around her, her face buried against his chest.

  This. This was what she’d been searching for.

  It was Grayson all along.

  Not just today. Or last week.

  But twenty years.

  Since the night he’d kissed her and left her in her own bed to sneak down the hallway and out the back of her parent’s house.

  She remembered lying in the bed, her heart breaking. She’d cried that night. She’d cried like she’d never cried before while her body ached with new sensations.

  After she’d finished crying, she’d focused on the promises he’d made. Promises to write. And call on the phone.

  They’d be together again soon. He’d see her on leave.

  That was the last time she’d heard from him for twenty years.

  It hadn’t been his fault. She knew that now. But even knowing it, the sting was still there.

  Now with his arms around her, some of that sting was beginning to heal. His touch soothed and comforted hurts that were buried so deep, they’d become part of her.

  “I love you,” he said against her ear.

  She gripped him tighter, her hands fisting in his shirt and blinked back the tears, but she couldn’t hold them back. The tears fell silently, dampening his shirt.

  She didn’t think it was possible, but he held her even more tightly against him.

  Then he reached down and, putting an arm beneath her knees, picked her up and carried her up the front stairs of her house.

  When they reached the door, he slid her to her feet. She reached out and touched the door knob to unlock it. He pushed it open and followed her inside. And waited while she locked the door from the inside
.

  Then he took her hand and led her to the sofa. He sat and pulled her into his lap. He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, then the corner of her mouth.

  Then his lips were on hers and everything else faded away – yesterday and tomorrow. There was only right now. In this moment.

  When they came up for air some time later, Grayson said, “I’m starving. Do you have anything to eat?”

  Claire laughed. “I’m starving, too. Let’s check the refrigerator.”

  Claire sat on a stool at her kitchen counter while Grayson grilled egg, cheese, and tomato sandwiches.

  “It’s a cross between an egg sandwich and a grilled cheese,” he said.

  “I think I have some potato chips,” she said, going to the check the pantry.

  “Not exactly vegan food,” he said.

  “As long as it’s vegetarian, I’m good,” she said.

  He flipped the sandwiches over, then stepped over to kiss her on the nose. The gesture made her smile.

  He was the only person who had ever kissed her on the nose. She remembered the first time. He was a football place kicker and she’d been a majorette. It was during a particularly close Friday night game.

  She’d been standing on the sidelines in her little red uniform. The crowd was cheering as Grayson kicked and made the field goal, leading their team to a last minute victory. Grayson had walked across the field straight to where she was standing and in front of the crowd, cheering for his winning field goal, he’d kissed her right there on the tip of her nose.

  The crowd had gone wild.

  That kiss had been a famous moment at their high school. Someone had taken a picture and it had been displayed in the high school office. As far as she knew, it was still there. The tall football player and the petite majorette had a made a touching picture of high school sports and innocent young love.

  “Do they still have the picture up?” Grayson asked as he pulled two plates from the cabinet.

  Apparently, his thoughts had gone down the same path as hers.

  “As far as I know.”

  “We were supposed to get married and have a house-full of kids,” he said.

  “I know,” she said, “everyone thought it.”

  He took their plates to the table. As they sat next to each other, his eyes locked onto hers. “It’s not too late,” he said.

  “What?” She laughed and took a bite of her sandwich.

  “It’s not too late.”

  “Really? You want to have a house full of kids? Now?”

  “Well,” he said. “Maybe not a house full. But I wouldn’t mind having maybe one.” He bit into a potato chip. “Or two. Or maybe three.”

  “Ha. Obviously, you’ve never been through childbirth.”

  “I never wanted children with anyone else.”

  She searched his eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes. And was speechless.

  He shrugged and bit into his sandwich. “I’m just saying,” he said a few seconds later.

  “You’re serious,” she breathed.

  “Eat. We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Oh no. You can’t say something like that, then just let it sit there,” she said, but bit into her sandwich anyway. “Yum,” she said. “This is really good.”

  He now had a smug look on his face. “I’m a really good cook,” he said. “And as my sister can attest, I can change diapers, too. And I do so willingly.”

  “Are you auditioning?” she asked, amusement playing about her lips.

  “Just watering some of those seeds,” he said.

  “What seeds?”

  “Those seeds I planted back in the day. When I was a hot football star and you were a sexy little majorette.”

  She grinned. “You’re still pretty hot.”

  “And you’re still pretty sexy.”

  They finished eating and cleaned the kitchen together.

  “What did you do with Danielle and Charlie?” he asked.

  “Danielle is spending some time with her grandmother and she took Charlie with her. I may to get another cat to keep me company when she’s not here.”

  He dried his hands on the kitchen towel and pulled her to him. “I can keep you company.”

  She laughed as he kissed her ear.

  “You are trouble, Grayson Moore.”

  “You like trouble.”

  “I must,” she said.

  “Then you’re saying you like me,” he said, kissing her face.

  “Yes,” she giggled. “I like you.”

  “That’s good to know,” he said, kissing her on the lips now. “I should go,” he said.

  “Uh huh,” she said but he had her off balance and she couldn’t think.

  He took her hand and led her toward the door.

  “Danielle is still going to the game with us tomorrow?”

  “She wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said.

  “Good. I’ll pick you up at five.”

  “Make it four so we can pick up Danielle,” she said.

  He kissed her again and walked out the door.

  Before she could lock the door, he was back.

  Her face broke into a smile as he kissed her.

  “I have to move your car,” he said. So much for romantic notions.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Grayson moved Claire’s car aside, then backed his up to the road. He then pulled hers into the garage. After the garage door was safely closed, he used bringing her key around as an excuse to kiss her again.

  He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay and devour her.

  But he knew it wasn’t the way to do it. He’d professed his love and she’d remained silent. She was still coming around.

  Grayson felt confident that she would. But first she had to reconcile their long-distance relationship. He knew better than to rush her.

  He had no doubt that he wanted to marry her. He’d never had any doubt. He’d put the notion aside when she’d married Noah, but the minute he found out she was divorced, he’d known he had never stopped loving her and she was the only woman he ever wanted to marry.

  There was just the minor problem of logistics. He had to go and she wouldn’t go. Couldn’t. She had too much invested here. A lifetime.

  Grayson felt fortunate that he didn’t feel ties to L.A. Hadn’t felt ties, he corrected, until Claire walked back into his life.

  He had to tamp down his sense of urgency to be with her and make up for lost time.

  He stepped into his empty apartment and sighed. It wasn’t much, but he had to live here a few more weeks. The next time Claire asked to spend time at his apartment, he would have no reason to hesitate.

  He had too much energy to sleep, so he went into the kitchen, took out a box of black garbage bags and began the excavation process. He was moving soon, and unlike all the times he’d moved before, he wasn’t going to take more than a few personal items other than clothes with him.

  He started with the kitchen, throwing out old cans of food he was never going to eat and spices he’d had forever. From now on, he’d only be cooking with fresh food.

  About midnight, he collapsed on the bed and napped a few hours before getting up early the next morning and resuming his house cleaning. He was a man on a mission.

  He was ruthless in his closet as well. Everything except the necessities had to go. He must have hauled two dozen bags to the dumpster. The more he threw out, the more he wanted to throw out. It was most liberating.

  Even his books. He chose six books he wanted to keep. The rest went in his car to take to campus to put on their give-away table.

  He stopped when he came across an Apple iPad box in the back of his closet. The box itself had changed over the years, but the contents had not.

  He sat on the edge of his bed and opened it up. There was copy of the picture when he had kissed Claire on the nose at the high school football game. He didn’t even know if Claire had been given a copy. His coach had given him this one. There was their photo fro
m senior prom. He looked a little goofy in his burgundy tux, but she had been lovely in her pink dress.

  He’d kept every note she’d written him in high school. It was from the days before text messages, so he had a stack of scraps torn from her notebooks. One simply said. “hi.”

  There was one, though, that had been written on blue paper. He carefully unfolded it and read the words she had written so very long ago:

  Dear Grayson,

  I wish you didn’t have to leave, but I know you have to. You have to do your duty for our country. When you get back, I’ll be here. I only ask that you stay in touch with me. Let me know what you’re doing. What you’re thinking.

  And I need to know that you’re safe.

  I love you with all my heart. I always will.

  He refolded the letter into its well-worn grooves. This letter had gotten him past countless battle wounds. Wounds that weren’t visible to anyone who looked from the outside. The only way to see these wounds was to dip deep into his psyche. Knowing that Claire was there waiting for him even though she never wrote back had been enough to keep him going.

  He only had to do four years and he would be out.

  He’d gotten the letter from his mother with the newspaper clipping tucked inside only two days before he had to sign his discharge papers.

  By the time he went into the office to meet with his superior, he’d made up his mind. He now had no reason to get out of the Air Force. He could make a good career in the military.

  After that, he couldn’t bear to look at the letter, but he couldn’t bear to get rid of it either. So, he’d tucked it away in the shoe box he carried around with him.

  After the shoe box started falling apart, he stuffed it all in a sturdy Apple box.

  But it had been a really long time since he’d taken the time to pull the notes and letters out and read them.

  She’d asked him to stay in touch with her. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  And despite his best efforts, he’d failed to do just that.

  This time when he was gone for a year – not four years – he would make sure he stayed in touch. He would call her every day and he would text throughout the day. He’d tell her what he was doing. In fact, he would start that habit right now.