Rm w/a Vu

by A. D. Ryan

  Greyston moves around her and stands next to me. “Baby, let me explain.”

  I close my eyes and shake my head in response to him, then look at Gemma again. “I told you to get out. If you don’t leave on your own, I have no problem removing you by whatever force necessary.”

  “What the hell happened in here?” Dom asks, finally making me aware of his presence.

  “Maybe you should ask your fiancée,” I tell him, crossing my arms.

  He must not need an explanation, because the way he groans tells me he’s figured it out on his own. “Jesus, Gem. Again? I can’t keep doing this with you. I’m done.”

  This seems to sober Gemma, and she whips her face toward Dom before running to him. “Dom, babe. It’s not what you think. I’ve had too much to drink.” He shakes his head and opens the front door while she yanks on her jacket and boots and chases him into the cold, leaving Greyston and I alone.

  Silence fills the room, the tension so thick not even a knife could cut through it. Greyston reaches for me, his fingers brushing my jawline as he tries to coax my eyes to his. There’s so much going through my head right now, and I’m not even sure where to begin or how to process everything. Greyston looks at me, his eyes trying to gauge my reaction to everything. His eyebrows furrow in frustration before he opens his mouth to speak.

  But I turn tail and head back upstairs, needing a moment to myself.

  Greyston refuses to let this happen, and he runs up the stairs after me, following me into the bedroom. “Juliette, please. Let me explain.”

  I sigh heavily, shoving the sweater back in my suitcase, and I force a smile to my face. “There’s nothing to explain, Greyston.”

  His fingers wrap around my upper arm, and he turns me to face him. “We need to talk about this.”

  Anger I didn’t even know I was holding back surges forward, burning through my veins like lava.

  The truth is, I’m hurt. In addition to being hurt, I’m also a little…confused. Oh, and pissed off. Let’s not forget that one. I’m not necessarily pissed off at Greyston, because he did push her away from him. Have I not had to deal with enough in the last couple months? I mean, really. First, all that shit with Ben, and now this? What next?

  Wait…scratch that. I don’t think that tempting fate by asking that question is a good idea right now; I’ll deal with one life problem at a time, thank you very much.

  I hate her. No, really; I fucking hate Gemma.

  I’m not a person who generally doles out a lot of hate because it just wastes too much energy, and, honestly, life is just too damn short for it. Sure, I dislike people—Ben and Delilah, for example—but I don’t see the point in hating anyone. Or, I didn’t until I saw Gemma make a move on Greyston.

  I thought how I felt when I first learned of their tryst was the most jealous I would ever feel, but when I watched Gemma kiss my boyfriend…well, let’s just say that was the twist that would keep the wound open for a while longer.

  “What do you want me to say, Greyston? I told you so? I knew she was trouble from the minute I saw her with her arms around you?” I laugh, but it’s dry and without humor. “I let it go because you told me it was all history.”

  “It is,” he assures me, and I believe him—I do.

  “Not for her.”

  “But it is for me, and that’s all that should matter.” He pushes his fingers roughly through his cropped hair. “She kissed me. I pushed her away the second her lips touched mine.”

  Bile and alcohol roll in my stomach from imagining Gemma with her lips on Greyston’s. I close my eyes and count to ten.

  “What are you thinking about?” Greyston asks, his voice nervous and unsteady.

  I open my eyes to find him leaning against the dresser, eyes on me, brows pulled up and in. I can see how sorry he is, but my anger refuses to be appeased by that.

  “I hate that I dismissed my gut feelings about her. But I told myself it was just my experience with Ben and Delilah that made me anxious about her hanging around so much.”

  Greyston sighs. “I know.” He drops his gaze to his feet. “And you were right to not trust her. I should’ve seen it.”

  “Yes,” I tell him harshly. “You should have. So why didn’t you?”

  I’ve barely finished asking my question before he reacts, his eyes blazing. “Because I’m so fucking in love with you, other women don’t even register on my radar!” he shouts, startling me a little…until I fully register what he’s told me.

  Chapter 33

  “Wh-what?”

  Greyston swallows thickly, pushing off the dresser and standing inches away from me. He’s looking down at me, his eyes confirming what he just said. “I’ve known it for a while, but after everything you’ve been through, I didn’t want to pressure you to have to say it back…unless you wanted to.” Another pause. He rubs the back of his neck. “When we entered this relationship, you were a completely different person—nervous, and a little bit of a flight risk.” I laugh, knowing he’s absolutely right. “But in such a short amount of time, you’ve become this incredibly strong and confident woman, and watching this transformation made me fall hard and fast.”

  “You…love me?”

  Greyston smiles, the corners of his eyes creasing. “I do. I love you more than I ever thought possible in such a short amount of time.”

  Everything that happened with Gemma instantly moves to the back burner; it’s not gone, but it’s no longer that important. Yes, we still need to talk about it, but first I need to acknowledge Greyston’s confession with one of my own.

  “I love you, too,” I tell him, placing my hands on his chest. “Walking in on you tonight, and seeing you push her away from you felt like a kick to the gut. But you know what I realized?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I didn’t feel that when I caught Ben and Delilah. Sure, I was pissed, but more than anything? I was relieved.” Greyston lifts one of my hands to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “I never loved him, even though I said I did. But you? You’ve been through more with me in the last few weeks than any boy has ever been, and it’s brought us closer.” Greyston moves to pull me closer, but I stop him. “This doesn’t mean I’m not still angry, and we still have a lot to work through, but I believe you when you say you were blind to her intentions.”

  His hands cradle my face, and he rests his forehead to mine. “So blind. I only have eyes for you, baby.”

  This makes me smile, and my hands fall to his hips. “So, I guess this is our first fight, huh?”

  Greyston nods, laughing lightly. “I would say so—though it’s a pretty mild fight.”

  I bite my lower lip gently, looking up into his eyes and shrugging my right shoulder. “So does this mean I’m about to experience what make-up sex is like?”

  In seconds, our fingers claw desperately at buttons and hems, our hands paw at newly exposed naked flesh, and Greyston pulls me into his arms and kisses me hard.

  I accept, winding my arms around his neck and pulling him closer, my tongue tracing the line of Greyston’s lips before deepening our kiss. His hands move down over my hips with purpose, slipping behind my jeans and grabbing my ass and lifting me up. He drops me onto the bed before joining me, and I snake my arm between us and into his pants, gripping his hard cock.

  “Ah, fuck,” he moans against my lips as I move my hand, tightening my grip slightly and repeating the action. Instinctively, he thrusts his hips into my palm while his hands move up under my shirt. It doesn’t take long before we’re scrambling to remove each other’s clothes, and soon he’s nudging himself between my legs and entering me. Without a condom.

  The instant he’s fully sheathed in me, he lowers himself until our bodies are completely pressed together, all air expelled from between us until we can feel one another’s heartbeats, and he holds most of his weight off of me by balancing on his forearms.

  As our hips roll together, seeking the pinnacle of ecstasy, Greyston attempts to slow our lo
vemaking. Maybe he’s trying to show me how much he loves me, but I’m having none of it. Using all my strength, I roll us over, taking my place above him and setting our pace. I know that watching me ride him has always been Greyston’s favorite, and I can tell he’s already struggling to hold on. Desperate to chase the orgasm that’s building rapidly, I move my hips up and down, back and forth, and around in sensual circles while my fingers curl against Greyston’s chest, fingernails biting gently into his skin.

  Every muscle in my body tenses, and the surface of my skin tingles from head to toe, my fingers going numb, as I teeter on the edge of losing control. Greyston’s hands fly to my hips, curling around them and pulling me harder against him. Unable to hold back any longer, I cry out as my lower body tightens around Greyston, coaxing his own orgasm from him before collapsing on his chest, panting heavily.

  We lay like this long enough that I get to feel his quickened heartbeat slow to its normal pace once more. His hand moves up and down my spine slowly as my eyes fall closed, contentedness blanketing the both of us.

  “What are you thinking about?” I ask, shifting my head until my chin rests on my sternum.

  He tilts his head to look at me and smirks. “Nothing really, just basking in the moment. You?”

  “I’m going to miss Whistler,” I confess. “I’m going to miss the cabin, and it makes me sad that we’ll never get to come back here. We’ve built a few memories here, and I’m sad we won’t be making more in the vacation home you grew up in.” I pause, biting my lip lightly.

  Greyston doesn’t answer, but I feel his heart flutter briefly before it returns to normal. “What if we didn’t have to say goodbye,” he whispers, drawing curiosity from me.

  “What do you mean?”

  He smiles, lifting his hands to my face and pushing my hair back before cradling my jaw, his thumbs moving idly over my cheekbones. “What if I bought the cabin from my parents? For us.”

  I inhale sharply, stunned by this offer…but also a little insulted. It reminds me of how Ben used to approach a half-assed reconciliation.

  Slowly, I slide off his body, sitting up and grabbing the blanket to cover my nakedness. Does he think that buying me an elaborate gift will make up for this? Does he think I’ll just let it go?

  “What?” He looks worried at my lack of reaction and he sits up, too.

  “Are you trying to buy your way out of this entire thing? Like, you know how upset I am, and you figure that throwing a little bit of money at the problem will just make it go away?”

  “That’s what you think?” he asks, seeming quite stunned that this is how I’ve taken his offer. “Juliette, that’s not what I meant at all. I’m sorry.” He sounds sincere, and I appreciate it, because he must realize just how insulting something like that is. “I didn’t even realize that’s how you might take it.”

  Embarrassed, I shake my head. “It’s fine. I should have known you better than that. Forget it…”

  “Hey,” he interjects. “Never feel like you can’t talk to me about whatever’s bothering you. Even if you think it might hurt my feelings. You mean everything to me, and I’m sorry if I made you question my motives. I’ll do better.”

  With everything being aired out between the two of us, I’m starting to feel better—not a hundred percent, but I think in time I could be there.

  “I’m still upset, and I don’t know that it’ll go away any time soon,” I blurt out.

  “Of course you are,” he offers quietly. “That’s completely understandable.”

  “I wish I could say that this will be easy for me, given I’ve been through something similar,” I continue. “I want to trust you—no, I do trust you—but all I see whenever I close my eyes is her lips on yours… I don’t know how to process it all.” Greyston’s hand reaches out to touch my arm, but he hesitates halfway before pulling it back and running it through his hair instead. “I know you’re not Ben, and I believe you when you say you love me, but, after what happened with him?” I sigh heavily, trying to gather my thoughts enough to stop my rambling. “I’m scared, Greyston. Scared I’m just…not enough for you.”

  “Baby,” he says softly, this time reaching out for me and taking my hand in his. I can’t help it anymore; I turn to look at him, and his eyes are red-rimmed and glistening. “What are you talking about? How can you possibly think you’re not enough for me? You’re everything to me.”

  “I don’t—I don’t know…”

  “Just tell me what to do to fix this,” he pleads, sounding desperate, his hands moving up and down my arm like he’s afraid I’m going to take off and this is the only way to stay tethered to me.

  I shrug, my chin wavering, and I speak before really even realizing what it is I want to say to him. “I hate her.” It doesn’t have anything to do with his request, but now that it’s out there, I don’t regret feeling it or even saying it. “Gemma,” I clarify, and Greyston nods as though he already knew that.

  “I can understand that.”

  I shake my head and continue speaking, the words coming out faster than I expect. “No, I don’t think you do. I don’t hate people, Greyston. It’s just not who I am. But Gemma? I fucking loathe her. I hate that she waltzed back into your life and disrupted it. I hate that she knows things about you that I have yet to learn. And most of all? I hate that I disregarded my suspicions so soon after meeting her.”

  An awkward pause fills the room as my last confession dangles in the air between us. My heart begins to pound, and I continue with my rambling. “I despise the idea that your agency represents her. You’ll always be tied to her, going on the occasional business trip to do…whatever it is you do as her agent.”

  “Okay,” he says, and I stop talking, confused and curious.

  “Okay, what?”

  “You’re right,” he replies. “It’s not fair to you. Any of it.” He falls silent for a minute, locking eyes with me. “I’m done.”

  His offer shocks me, and my mouth opens and closes several times before I’m finally able to utter, “Wh-what do you mean you’re done? Greyston, I didn’t mean—”

  “I’ll hand her account off to Toby,” he clarifies for me. “She’s signed to the agency, not to me specifically. I don’t want you to ever wonder…not that there’d be anything going on…” His words hang there for a minute while he takes a deep breath. “And besides, if the situation were reversed, I know damn well I wouldn’t like the idea of you being alone with Ben for a school or business-related reason.”

  “Greyston, I can’t ask you to do that,” I argue, even though the second the offer is voiced, it’s all I seem to want. I’m fully aware that I’m being unreasonable, yet I’m grateful he volunteered so quickly. It’s all very confusing.

  “You’re not asking, sweetheart. I’m telling you I’m done with her. She crossed a line, and I wouldn’t feel right representing her anymore, either.” I continue to stare at him, bewildered, and he offers me a comforting smile.

  “Greyston—”

  “I know you didn’t bank on any of this happening—neither of us did—and I’m sorry for that.” He cradles my face in his left hand, eyes narrowing as he tries to read my expression. “What is it?”

  “I sound like a self-entitled brat.”

  Greyston smiles. “No,” he says, his thumb stroking my cheek once before pulling his hand away. “It makes you sound human, and I can’t fault you for feeling this way.”

  A part of me wants to tell him that none of this is necessary, that I’m capable of acting like a mature adult while he continues to represent Gemma, but I can’t. “Thank you,” is my response instead, and I’m more than happy with it.

  I’m letting the selfish twenty-year-old have her way this time, and I don’t care what anyone thinks.

  Chapter 34

  Greyston made good on his promise, telling Toby that he would have to handle all of Gemma’s endorsement deals for the foreseeable future. Greyston said that they were both shocked to hear what Gemma
had done, and I kind of developed a little girl crush on Callie when I learned that Toby had to restrain her before she could hop in her car and hunt Gemma down.

  Okay, so it was more than just a little crush; had I been there, I probably would have kissed her.

  The months seem to fly by. Maybe it’s because I’ve been gearing up for finals and Greyston’s been busy with work. However, even with all of the crazy in our lives, we still make time for each other. We’ll always try to plan a quiet dinner together, and if we can’t for some reason, we’ll be sure to set aside a couple hours before bed where we turn off all phones, computers, and TVs so we can sit and enjoy each other’s company before going to bed. Plus, we’re still sure to keep a weekly date night ritual, which is always great.

  This week’s regular date has been postponed for Callie and Toby’s wedding, and I am currently seated in one of the two hundred satin-draped chairs in the rented banquet hall. After arriving, Greyston left me with his parents, kissing me on the cheek and telling me he had to go uphold his best man duties. We find our seats, third row from the front as the first two rows were designated for family—turns out, both Callie and Toby come from pretty big families.

  Smoothing the lines of my knee-length sapphire blue dress, I look around the room and take in all of the little details. Almost every chair in the room is filled, and I can feel the love that fills the air. Everything is tasteful from the paper lanterns and twinkle lights that hang from the ceiling, to the light blue and purple bows tied around the chairs, and the white rose buds nestled in them.

  There’s a string quartet up near the archway that Callie and Toby will be married under, and they’ve been playing since before Greyston and I even arrived. Everything about the wedding is absolutely beautiful, and has me wondering what my wedding—way way in the future—will be like. Will it be this big? Will we choose to elope? Vegas or somewhere in the Caribbean, perhaps? Maybe we’ll go down to city hall with just our parents and have something super small and intimate.