by Ruby Rowe
He holds his hand out. “Who wouldn’t want seventy-five million dollars? I don’t understand how you don’t, and I also don’t think being married to Whitney Peterson for a handful of years to acquire that wealth is a bad deal.”
“It’s a horrible deal when it would cost me my future with Sasha. This family needs to get over their greed. Gant-Peterson Oil is practically an empire, so you’ve proven your success. I feel like I have, too, and my happiness should come first.”
Mom walks out with a tray holding three glasses of lemonade. It shakes in her trembling hands as she feels the tension in the air.
She sets it down on the round table in front of me, and I notice there’s a slice of lemon on each glass and a sprig of something green, peppermint maybe. I spot the chocolate chip cookies, too.
She’s gone all out, and Harriet isn’t even here. Harriet’s been working for my folks for as long as I can remember, but like Theresa, my housekeeper, she doesn’t work many weekends.
“I already apologized, Mary Ann, but your boy is still angry.”
Mom hands me a glass, and I take a long drink. As she sits down, she messes with her hair and takes a drink, too, before she makes eye contact with me.
“We really are sorry, Greyson. It was my fault that it was kept from you for so long. Your father wanted to tell you, but I was trying to protect your heart. I couldn’t believe the decision my father had made. As bad as it hurt me, I couldn’t bear to think of how it would hurt you.”
“I could’ve handled it, and like I told Dad, I don’t believe it was all about protecting my heart. Maybe for you mostly, but not him.”
“Look, I said I’m sorry. That’s all I can do now. What’s done is done,” Dad says sternly.
“I understand what the business meant to Orson. He wanted me to be a part of it, and I imagine he truly thought that’s what was best for me.
“I only wish he could have seen what I’ve accomplished, but after thinking on it, my drug use probably left him questioning my ability to succeed on my own.”
I take a glimpse of my mother, and her eyes are only more vivid from the tears coating them.
“The fact you can find it in your heart to understand that old geezer means everything to me.”
“He was definitely an old geezer.” The three of us chuckle, and the air becomes lighter. Grabbing a cookie, I take a bite and stare off at the pasture.
Black cattle rest lazily on the rolling fields, and I recall working on this farm as a kid. There was nothing lazy about it. I hated it at the time, but it instilled in me a work ethic I’m grateful for.
My mind drifts back to the mornings I had to drag Sasha out of bed to go to work. Damn, we were raised differently, but different ended up being exactly what I needed.
I have to talk to my parents about her. For me to let go of the past and forgive them, I need to know they’ll accept my future.
“My girlfriend, Sasha … I love her.” I steal a glance at the other two most important people in my life, and they’re staring at me in silence.
“I know she’s not the woman you dreamed of me marrying, or even the type of woman, but she’s perfect for me, and I need to know you’ll treat her with nothing but kindness and respect.”
Mom nervously swallows her drink, and my father stares out at the fields, squinting while he blows out a puff of smoke.
“We have to meet her first,” he says. “You can’t expect us to give our blessing when we don’t know the girl.”
“She’s Camilla’s sister. You already love Camilla, and shouldn’t my word be enough, anyway?”
“You’re thirty-one, son. There’s no doubt you’re smart and level-headed, but you still don’t have the same years of wisdom that your mother and I do.
“Let us meet her first, and as long as she’s as kind as you’ve claimed and has the potential to succeed in life, we’ll show her the respect she deserves.”
I sigh. “Fine, but you can’t interrogate her. She’s been through a lot in her life, so she’s a bit insecure and becomes nervous if she’s pushed too hard, too fast.” I lift my finger toward my parents.
“Also, under no circumstances is anyone to mention the money tied to marrying Whitney. It’s in the past, and there’s no reason for Sasha to know about it. Look, just give her a chance, and you’ll see in her what I see.”
Sitting up straight, my mother smiles. “I have the perfect idea. Your father and I are hosting a birthday party for Ellis and Liam in a few weeks. With both their birthdays in July, Estella and I thought it was a brilliant idea.
“It would be the perfect time to meet Sasha. With so many people here, she won’t feel pressured by us. Estella said Ellis’s little boy loves to be outdoors, so this is the perfect place.”
My mother looks around at their sprawling property. “She’s even ordering one of those blowup jumpy things kids play in, and since I haven’t been given any grandchildren yet”–she narrows her eyes on me–“we’re inviting a lot of our friends who have children and grandchildren, so that way Liam has other little boys and girls to play with.” Mom stops for a breath, so I chime in.
“Did Aunt Estella run this by Ellis and Camilla?”
“I imagine so.”
I roll my eyes. “I imagine not, but I’ll check with them.”
“Anyway, it’d be the perfect opportunity to meet your new friend.”
“Girlfriend.”
“Right.”
Maybe that would be better than a private dinner where all the attention is on Sasha.
“OK, I’m sure Sasha will want to attend her nephew and future brother-in-law’s birthday party, so count us in. That is, as long as Ellis and Camilla agree to have it. I can’t recall Ellis ever wanting to make a big deal about his birthday.”
“He’ll do it for his son. You’ll find that out one day when you have children of your own. I’m so jealous of Estella having a grandchild to spoil. I sure hope Lawrence and Aspen give me one soon.”
“I imagine they will, Mom.” Setting my glass down, I stand up. “I need to go, but I’m glad we worked this out, and thank you for being understanding about how I forfeited the inheritance.”
Neither speak, but my mother stands to hug me.
“We love you, sweetheart, and only want what’s best for you.”
“Sasha’s who’s best for me,” I whisper. “You’re gonna love her.” Mom squeezes me a little harder, and before leaving, I give my father a firm handshake. I’m relieved that conflict is settled. Now, it’s time to go home and negotiate a deal with Sasha.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sasha
“I’m dying. I’m dying. I’m really, surely dying,” I sing out over my music as I pedal on the elliptical. Actually, this machine is a torturous device I’ve named Kale that was created by an evil sadist likely named Adolf.
Adolf–who eats kale.
My surgeon is a sadist, too, for saying I should start exercising a few minutes each day. I might’ve failed to tell him how I’ve never exercised a day in my life, and that was certainly my bad.
I can hear my labored breathing over the Ed Sheeran song “Happier” that’s playing through my earbuds. He sings about his ex looking happier with another man. Well, Ed must’ve made her work out on a torturous device named Kale. That’d drive a woman away for sure.
Greyson’s lucky I’m doing this of my OWN (lord, I’m dying)… FREE (seriously, my heart might explode)… WILL, but it’s still to make him happier.
“You shouldn’t have made her ride Kale, Ed!” I yell. “Then, maybe she’d be happier with you.” The strained, choppy sounds fade quickly as I shut the fuck up to get through a whole five minutes on this thing.
“Four fifty-seven, four fifty-eight, four fifty-nine, freedom!” I jerk out my earbuds, and forgetting that the elliptical is still running, I stumble on a pedal as I try to jump off.
I fall flat on my face with a loud thump.
“God, Kale, I hate you.”
Hearing someone laughing, I jerk my head back and see Greyson leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and a hand tucked under each armpit.
“Jesus, I didn’t know you were there.”
“Jesus, Lord, God… I didn’t know you were the praying type, and who the hell are Ed and Kale?”
“Go away! I don’t want you to see me like this.” I scurry to my feet.
“Oh, stop. I’m playing. It’s cool to see you exercising, but is that safe after your surgery?”
“I sure hope sex with you would last longer than five minutes, and the doctor said that was safe to do.”
“Uh, point taken.”
“I need to shower. Then, we can eat dinner. Is there spaghetti left from last night?”
“I couldn’t eat it, not without you, so yes, there’s plenty left.” Reluctantly, I stroll over to him. I don’t want him to see my beet-red face, sweaty skin and crazy hair, which I forgot to put up in a ponytail.
He removes a few stray strands from my sticky face and clasps my chin.
“I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t be. I only lasted five minutes on that death trap, and whatever calories I burned, I plan to replace them with spaghetti and Skittles.”
“You’re so fucking adorable.”
Blushing, I look away. “Want to shower with me?”
“Yes, but that’s not happening.” He turns my face back to him. “Let’s get this talk over with now so we can enjoy our evening together. I have a question. Would you agree to go to counseling?”
My eyes grow round. “You think we need couples counseling already?”
“No, not for us. I meant individual counseling for you.” Like last night, he glances away, but he immediately brings his gaze back to me.
“I see… Did Camilla put you up to this? She was pressuring me about going, too.”
“No, I feel like you need it, and I know you think so, too. Sasha, you don’t have to be afraid that someone will come looking for you or have your sister thrown in jail. All of that is over now. Your parents are dead, so there’s no excuse not to go.”
I gnaw on my lip and feel my eyelids brim with tears.
“I’m afraid of who I’ll become if I discuss in detail that period of my life.”
“I know it’ll be hard, but I believe you’ll come out stronger and happier. You can talk about it at your own pace, and I’ll even go with you if you want.
“You can cry in my arms afterward, or I’ll take you for ice cream. Whatever the hell you need from me, I’ll give it.”
“I need you to have sex with me so I’ll feel like a normal woman. So that I can find the joy and pleasure in it. Everything you’ve done to me so far, I’ve loved.”
He shakes his head, and this time he looks away and releases my chin.
“Greyson, if you can’t get past this, then I’ll be more than a victim. It will confirm what I’ve always believed … that I’m damaged goods, and I’ll continue to carry around this unbearable humiliation.” Closing my eyes, I fight the familiar, dreadful feelings encroaching on my soul.
“This monster of shame has followed me around for years. Before you came into my life, I couldn’t escape him, and when I stared at my reflection in the mirror, he hovered behind me–pressing against me.” I cover my tightening chest and begin to cry. My throat constricts, and I swallow to speak.
“It was like this demonic black shadow, reminding me of the living hell I’d endured. He was there to reaffirm how disposable I felt, and drugs became the only way to hide myself from the monster.”
Greyson’s body trembles, and I watch as his hands ball into fists. “Look at me,” I say. He struggles to do it, and I see the anger and helplessness in his eyes. “That was until I met you. You’ve been driving the monster away, killing its energy.
“My self-loathing is what fed it, along with my painful memories. Then, you appeared and showed me I could be so much more than a victim. But if we can’t get past this hurdle, then you might as well say the past is all I deserve. It’s contradictory to everything you’ve taught me.”
He furrows his brow. “That’s not fair. I’d never say or believe you deserve the abuse you endured.”
“No, but if you can’t be intimate with me, then I can’t help but feel like damaged goods you don’t want to touch.” I grab his forearms. “Tell me you want to touch me. Make me believe it.”
I cry harder, and as the tears tumble down my cheeks and reach my mouth, I taste the salt in them. They remind me of trying to exercise and the job I outgrew because I was smarter than I ever believed possible.
They remind me of the way I get up early every morning and remain sober. These tears are from the strength I don’t want to lose. I can’t lose it.
Grabbing my face, Greyson presses his lips to mine. His tongue pushes inside, and he moves his body closer. He kisses me passionately, his desire pouring into my mouth like a sugary syrup I can’t get enough of, and it’s as if he can’t get enough of me, either.
I whimper in his embrace and run my hands up inside the back of his shirt. Shoving his fingers in my hair, he fists it. Our mouths mold together, our before-kisses never this electrically charged. Groaning, he lets me go and rests his head against mine.
“Did you feel that?” he asks desperately. I nod. “Ladybug, I promise that I want to have sex with you. I desire you in a way I’ve never desired another woman.
“I plan on making love to you in our bed, and fucking you in every room of this house, but not until you’ve had some counseling. I refuse to let anything mess up what we’re building. I won’t risk our intimacy becoming a bad memory for you. Do this for me, OK? Please.”
“All right. I’ll go to counseling.”
Sasha
“Since I can’t start college until fall, I appreciate you letting me return to work,” I say to Greyson as we ride together to his company, G. Burke Enterprise.
He reaches over and entwines our hands.
“It’ll be nice to have you around the office again.”
“I bet Rhonda will be happy to have her file clerk back.” I inwardly groan since filing is the last thing I want to do today, but I remember how grateful I am for this job and how I’m learning to be a responsible human being.
“About that … I have another job for you to do until you start school.”
“Oh, what’s that?”
“How would you like to work with Andrew?”
“Your marketing guy?” I ask excitedly.
Glancing over, Greyson smiles. “Don’t act too excited.”
I squeeze our laced hands. “Thank you so much. That would be a great opportunity.”
“You’re welcome. I figure this way you can determine if marketing is really what you’re interested in pursuing.”
“You’re always thinking about what’s best for me. I still can’t understand why, but I appreciate it.”
Leaning across the seat, I kiss his cheek. “I’ll be glad when I can show my appreciation in a way besides words,” I whisper in his ear.
He groans and leans away. “Don’t taunt me. We had an agreement.”
“You’re right, and I guess I need to spend my lunch hour finding a therapist.” Retreating to my side of the vehicle, I wrap my arms around my stomach. “I can’t wait,” I grumble sarcastically.
“I have that covered, too.”
“How?”
“A friend gave me the name of a female therapist he knows. I’ll call her this morning.”
I shake my head. “No, I’d prefer to find someone myself. I need to be handling more things on my own.”
“But if I call, I can get you in right away. It could take weeks for an appointment with someone else.”
“I’d still like to make the appointment. Can you give me her number?”
“Sure,” he says before he grips the steering wheel tightly. I don’t know what he expects from me. Half the time, I think he wants me to be more responsible, and the other half, it fee
ls like he wants to coddle me.
I lean my head against the window. Relationships are stressful, especially while sober, and the sexual tension between us is combustible.
We both wake through the night, turned on from being against each other, so we’re exhausted, too. How will we keep this up?
Once Greyson parks, we stroll into his building. His receptionist, Kaylie, spots me from her curved desk and hangs up the phone. She’s on her feet fast–her hazel eyes warm with kindness.
“Sasha, it’s so good to see you again.”
“Hi, Kaylie. It’s good to see you, too.”
“So, are you returning to work?” While tucking a piece of her long, dark hair behind her ear, she gives Greyson a sideways glance, and it’s obvious she has no clue where I’ve been or why I’m back.
“If you need to send Sasha calls, she’ll be in marketing, working in the office next to Andrew’s.”
“Oh, that’s extension 102. Got it.” She gives us a nervous smile, her eyes dancing between Greyson and me.
“Come on,” he mumbles. Holding the glass door open to the rest of the offices, I walk ahead of him until we’re both inside.
“Terrence is still the only one who knows about your injury or that we’re dating. My employees only believe you quit to take another job, so you can decide what you’re comfortable telling them.”
“OK. I don’t know why, but I’m nervous to be back.”
For the first time since I asked to make my own therapist appointment, he grants me one of his dazzling smiles.
“They love you here. The only drama I expect is Rhonda wanting to kick Andrew’s ass after she finds out she’s not getting you back.” We approach Terrence’s office, and he looks up about the time we’re passing by.
Greyson takes me straight to another open door where Andrew’s typing at his desk. We’ve chatted a few times at lunch about various marketing projects, and he liked my suggestions for future advertisements.
“Good morning,” Greyson says. His marketing manager looks up and stands once he sees us. He pats down his grey tie over his white shirt, and as he smiles, his eyes peruse my body.