by Aja Cole
Let alone cognac.
And not that commercialized big brand shit, either.
She pours some in each glass, then leaves the kitchen and goes to her room. After a second standing there, appreciating that she knows a good brandy when she sees one, I go to my room. I need to get out of these damned clothes. The wine left in my glass had tipped right over onto my clothes when the husband falling nearly took out our table with theirs.
All I can do is grimace. What an unbelievable mess. And all because of me.
She wouldn’t have had these issues if she was dating someone more low-key.
Nobody hounded me as much as other guys on the team. I wasn’t some media bad-boy that courted attention and did whatever the fuck I wanted.
I had fun, but I didn’t want my life splashed across pages of magazines and shit.
My mom would serve my head on a platter at the next charity dinner without a second thought if I embarrassed her like that.
I knew the wrath of Genie Mathieson when she wasn’t pleased, and I liked to stay far away from it.
I put on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. I’d be happy to get back to my condo and my closet. I’d done a lot of laundry in the time I’d been at Faith’s. I knew how to do my own laundry, but in season - it was the last thing on my mind. I had a housekeeper that handled all of that, but I still tried to keep things mostly in place when I was home.
Her job didn’t need to be any harder. She always scolded me for paying her so much but not leaving her much to do. Recently, she’d begun cooking things and leaving them in the fridge. It made her feel like she was earning her keep, I guess. Cameron and his family had probably loved the extra help. Nicola loved kids.
I join Daya back in the kitchen, where she’s holding a glass, warming the cognac in her hands in an oversized t-shirt that she may or may not be wearing shorts with. It covers everything down to her knees, so I can’t tell. I pick up the other glass, holding it and watching her. She blows out a hard breath.
“Why are you pursuing me so hard, Greyson?”
Jesus, not this again.
The line of conversation is getting a little old. The doubt. Why can’t she just accept that I want her?
“This better not be about what that woman said. You’re more intelligent than that.”
She looks at me over the rim of the glass as she sips, moving away from behind the counter to sit in the armchair. There’s nothing I can do but follow, drinking from my own glass and hoping she’s not about to give me another spiel about not being together.
“It is and it isn’t. I just want to know the why. The reasons you think I’m a good fit for you.”
“Would you like me to write you a list so you can look at it when you’re thinking about questioning me?” My reply is sarcastic, but she cocks her head to the side, like she’s considering it.
“That should suffice. Need a pen and paper?”
I scowl. “I’m not writing you a list, Daya. I already told you how I felt.”
She sips again, looking away from me. “Yes, but you didn’t tell me why you felt.”
I take a deep breath.
Alright.
It’s not a hard question. I decide to indulge her now but I don’t want it becoming a habit. It felt too much like her looking for a reason to stop.
“Because I want you. I want to know you. More than just pictures and sex. I want to know you. Who you are, what you like, why you like those things. I’m interested because you’re funny. You’re quick-thinking. You’re sexy. We have great chemistry. You don’t make things too easy for me but you communicate and you’re honest when it matters. There’s a lot I don’t know about you still, but even knowing you enjoy the same cognac as me makes me more certain that all I want is for you to be as all-in as I am.”
She sits there, like she’s weighing my words. Deciding if she believes me, if she thinks I’m sincere. Or like she’s figuring out how to turn them against me.
“I don’t know, Greyson. It all sounds nice, but I just don’t know if this is the right decision.”
Anger is a slow burn, crawling its way up through my body.
“I didn’t even have a chance to ask you out officially, and you’re breaking it off already?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugs, not meeting my gaze as she finished off her class. At some point, I’d polished off mine too. She gestures to my class, “Another?”
“I don’t want any more goddamned liquor; I want you to answer me.” She gives a long-suffering sigh like she’s the one that’s exhausted by this conversation.
“Well, I don’t have any answers Greyson.”
I clasp my hands in my lap, willing myself to not lose my head. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” I can’t stand that detached tone of voice from her. She’s had it since she began talking. Like she’s watching everything from somewhere distant, removed from any emotional ties to the outcome. She brings the bottle from the kitchen to the table.
“I mean, you’ve got issues I don’t even know about. You haven’t shared a single thing with me about your family, yet Faith thinks your father is the reason for the way you act with guys. What’s the story on that? What’s complicated?”
I have a grim sense of satisfaction when her eyes flash before she focuses on the top of the bottle, like it takes a ton of focus to unscrew a cap.
“That topic is off limits, and considering we are not dating, it’s information you have no right to.”
“What the hell is your problem? What brought this on?” I move her cup as she makes a motion to grab it, not above being annoying.
“Nothing. I had some time to think in the car, and this is for the best. It’s what I wanted from the start anyway. Clean. No ties or connections.”
“I just told you I liked you for your honesty and you’re going to give me this bullshit? What happened to trying? I can’t keep up with you. You’ve changed your mind so quickly?” I snarl, rising from the couch. Fuck this. I’m not about to beg her anymore for her attention. This Daya? This is the one that I have no idea how to deal with. How many times would I have to prod her and beg her to give me an inch? “I think you’re scared. Whatever daddy issues you have, have made you turn into this ice-cold bitch when you don’t want to face something.”
That gets a reaction out of her. She springs up, stepping close to me and jabbing her finger in my chest. “I don’t have any goddamned daddy issues. And I’m not scared of a fucking thing except being trapped in a relationship with you. Is that honest enough for you?” The look in her eyes is one I’ve never seen before and it plus her words send a chill through me.
I’m done.
24
Daya
Fuck him.
Exactly what I didn’t need in my life.
Explaining myself to someone.
Feeling bad for their emotions.
Someone getting angry because I wasn’t giving them enough of a reaction.
There wasn’t a single thing wrong with me except I was angry and tired.
Yeah, I’d said I wanted to try but I’d also told him there were no guarantees.
Daddy issues.
FUCK him.
He’d gone quiet when I told him I was scared of being trapped with him, before turning away and going to his room. I went to mine, seething.
Sometime after, I heard the front door close and I didn’t care. Not a single damn.
I didn’t need Greyson, or anyone for that matter. I didn’t need the looks from me being with him, didn’t need the extra drama in my life. Didn’t need people like that bitch from the restaurant making assumptions about me. I was feeling too damn much lately, and cutting Greyson out would alleviate that. I could go back to my regularly scheduled programming without all the self-doubt.
The way Greyson and I met had doomed us anyway. It was never meant to go further than that and I should’ve listened to my gut. I’m pacing around my room when I fee
l the threat of vomit. Three glasses of wine, some cognac, and anger apparently don’t mix well.
I get everything out of my system that wants to come out, and brush my teeth. Next on the list is an ibuprofen and a glass of water. I crawl into bed, not looking forward to answering Faith’s question in the morning.
I could avoid that if I really wanted to…
Glancing at my clock, I see it’s only 10pm. I click a name in my contacts and wait for the phone to pick up.
“Auntie, are you up for me visiting?” When she confirms, I hang up and book the earliest flight out.
I hadn’t been back to Georgia in a while, but I needed out. I could work from anywhere.
I’d avoid my parents and their little bubble of drama while I was there.
I’d had enough of the emotional bullshit.
It was 3am and my head was pounding, but I ignored it. I dragged out my largest suitcase, mentally checking off the essentials in my head as I threw them in.
I noticed the dress from the night before pooled on the floor and I kicked it under my bed. I wouldn’t be wearing it again anytime soon.
Throwing in everything I might need, I zipped it closed, making sure I had my I.D. and cards. I’d buy whatever I’d forgotten. I called for an Uber, getting dressed while I waited for their arrival. When my phone chimed, I took one last glance around the townhouse to make sure I wasn’t missing anything, and left.
I was going back home, where I’d vowed to never go, all because I didn’t want to be in the same place as one man.
Wasn’t life a bitch?
“You’re not fooling anyone, kid. You make a sudden visit here after me always coming to visit you? You have some explaining to do.”
I roll my eyes, dropping the handle of my luggage to meet my aunt’s open arms.
“Not even a hello? You have to accuse me of ulterior motives first? Can’t I just want to visit my Auntie Naomi?”
“Because I know you. It’s going to take you the entire visit to share a single word, and I’m not waiting that long.”
“I’m fine.” I slide on my shades to shield my slightly red eyes, following her out of the airport into the warm Atlanta air. It’s 7am and the slight humidity for the day is starting to make itself known. I’m in a thin tank top with leggings and a pair of Nike sneakers.
It was not my best travel attire, but 3am wasn’t the best time to care about airport appearance.
I sink into the soft leather of her Audi A8, relishing in the feel of the seats after flying. I just needed to sleep. Peacefully. Without any thoughts about whether my decision on Greyson was right or wrong.
Without any thoughts about what a colossal bitch I was, and why I needed to stay single forever so that nobody had to deal with my mood swings.
Yeah. It’d been that kind of “sleep” the night/morning before.
I lean back against the headrest, then I realize the car isn’t moving. I glance over and my aunt’s sitting there with her arms crossed, staring at me expectantly.
“What?”
“Why are you here?”
Okay, what I didn’t need so early in the morning was the damned third degree.
“I’ll book the next flight back if it bothers you that I came,” I scowl, moving for the door handle. She flicks the lock switch.
“I’m going to give you a second to decide on the proper answer before I pop you in the mouth. Don’t think you’re too old for that.”
Damn.
There was no way I was going to get out of it.
Naomi didn’t play any games. The moment I’d moved in with her, she laid down the rules and told me that if I wanted to stay – I’d be wise to follow them. She was fun and cool, but she was not to be crossed. I’d known better to get flip with her, and I’d done it anyway.
I just really didn’t want to talk about Greyson right then. It’s why I’d left to avoid Faith and Ryan. I slide my shades off, gripping them in my lap. Honesty was the best policy, right?
“Things went sideways with a guy. I came here to avoid all the aftermath and I would appreciate it if we don’t have to talk about it right this second.” I meet her hazel eyes, watching me with the same look I give people when I’m trying to decide what to think.
Sometimes I wondered if she was my mom and not my actual mom just because of the many similarities we had. But that would be crazy.
“Alright,” she relents, and I’m grateful that she’s taken me at my word. “But we will discuss it when it’s not so raw, understand?”
“Yes ma’am,” I murmur, leaning against the window and closing my eyes. It would take about an hour to get to her house, and would happily take a little more rest over being awake with my thoughts.
“Hey,” I hear Naomi’s voice and I blink my eyes open, “We’re here. Don’t worry about your bag, Jackson will get it. You get on up to your room and into that bed. I don’t want to see you until dinner time.”
You didn’t give Naomi no for an answer.
So I followed her instructions dutifully, trudging up the stairs and into the house, barely giving a glance to the space I’d spent the four years before college. Strangely enough, it felt like more home to me than where I’d spent my whole childhood and pre-teen years. Because of the woman, not the place.
I toe off my shoes and slide under the familiar duvet, and fall quickly into sleep.
I don’t know what time it is when I wake up, but I hope it’s dinner time because my stomach is grumbling up a storm.
I can smell the familiar scent of andouille sausage cooking and I know in my soul that Auntie’s making Jambalaya. It didn’t matter what the weather was like outside, Jambalaya was always on my list of things I would never ever give up. Especially if Jackson was making it.
I round the corner, walking into the large kitchen and see my Uncle stirring a huge pot at the stove. My mouth is already watering.
“Come here, cher. Give your tonton a hug.” His Cajun accent is smooth and flowing, and I slide under his large arm, hugging tight to his waist. For some reason, I feel like crying.
And I feel the guilt at not seeing him more often washing over me. He was the closest thing I had to a present father and I stayed away, trying to avoid the memories I’d made before he and Naomi.
They hadn’t deserved that. And judging by the emotions I’m pushing back, I’d needed to visit for more reasons than I wanted to admit.
25
Greyson
Thwack. Thwack Thwack. Thwack.
I skated around the ice, lodging pucks at the net with my stick in rapid succession. I kept my strides continuous, pushing myself, making sure every puck hit the fucking back of the net. Puck came my way, I landed it.
It was the morning skate and we all slid around the rink, warming up and running drills. The only thing on my mind was the upcoming game.
The season opener against Chicago.
It would set the tone for the games after it.
I didn’t have time to think about anything else.
I wouldn’t make time to think about anything else.
The only thing that mattered was my game and my team.
26
Daya
I’d been in Georgia for a week, and I was in no rush to go back to New York just yet. Not as long as my Father and Mother didn’t know I was around. My feelings hadn’t changed about talking to them. I was content to keep the no contact alive.
I was sitting on the large veranda with my laptop, responding to some emails in the big old porch swing that I used to sleep on some nights when I wanted to look at the stars.
I felt bad about not visiting Naomi and Jackson more.
I didn’t feel a single thing about my parents.
They had enough to keep them occupied, anyway.
Extra wives and children would do that to you.
Faith had called a few days ago.
She’d said she’d woken up and both Greyson and I were gone. I guess he’d gone back to his place. I told
her I was visiting family for a bit, and I’d see her when I got back.
I didn’t let that phone call last long. I didn’t want to give her a chance to ask about our date or what’d happened.
I was still avoiding telling Naomi the full story, and every time I walked into the same room with her, she gave me this probing look like she was trying to mentally drill a hole inside my head to see what was going on. It was as terrifying as it was amusing.
“Okay bebe, who’s this couyon that made you run on back here” Jackson comes out on the porch and sits next to me, handing me a tall glass of peach lemonade.
“How do you know it was a man that made me come back, ton? I just…needed to come home for a little bit.” I demur, drinking the cool goodness that only Jackson made just right. At least nothing had changed here.
Everything was constant.
Predictable. Stable.
“Ain’t it always?” he winks. He would know. Naomi came back to Georgia to try to forget him, but it hadn’t been long until Jackson showed up and refused to leave. As far as I knew, they’d been inseparable ever since.
I wasn’t holding out any type of hope that I’d have the same story.
“It’s…complicated.”
“It’s never complicated bebelle. Not like you think it is. In this life, there’s fight or flight. You go for what you want or you let it pass you by. Dit mon la verite.”
I knew whatever I told Jackson, he’d tell Naomi. And then Naomi would swiftly give me her opinion on the situation, probably with some healthy cussing and things I didn’t want to hear. But Jackson was a man…and maybe he could give me some insight I didn’t have. On what exactly, I didn’t know – but I probably needed a second opinion.
I couldn’t exactly trust myself to not ignore the facts sometimes.
Look at how quickly Greyson and I had been up then down. Obviously, it wasn’t entirely his fault. If any of it even was. I knew I had things to figure out, but I wasn’t sure where to start. Maybe Jackson could help.