There’s a quick knock and slide of a key, then the front door knob twists, and Mom walks in.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetie.”
We share a long moment, but there’s little time for a major mother-daughter powwow. Instead, I offer what’s in my hand. “Want a granola bar?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m exhausted. No idea how you do this.”
She’s wearing the yoga pants and a baggy T-shirt that she’ll sleep in. Everyone helping out is a huge burden. I grew up with a picture-perfect family, and she and Dad don’t have a ton of money they can throw my way. We came to an understanding when Cally was born. I work my booty off, sometimes literally—though Mom’s not privy to the details—I’ll also get my degree, and they will help. If I want to raise Cally in any way comparable to how I grew up, having their assistance is the only option.
“I love you, Mom.”
She wraps me in a hug. “I know, honey.”
There’s a lump in my throat because I’m hopeful everything will change and terrified at the same time. “You know he’s home.”
Her arms squeeze. “Yes.”
“I really want it to be okay.”
Mom gives a deep sigh and a harder squeeze. “And I want you and Cally to be happy and loved.” She lets me go and holds me out in front of her. I hope she’s assessing and not judging.
I bite my lip. “Are you mad at me?”
“Mad?” Her eyebrows bite together. “No. Nervous? Yes.”
“Me too.”
We share a quiet look. “Alright, get to work.”
“You’re early.” I toss the remains of the granola bar and smooth my uniform shirt.
“So, take your time. Hit Mickey D's for an ice cream. Read a book. You can have a life on your own. You know that, right?”
I shrug.
“This is life, Emma. Enjoy it.” Her face is soft. Nothing fazes her. If there’s one person on earth who would understand love, it’s my mom. She loves love.
“Thanks.” I peck her cheek and head for my purse.
“Oh, and I told Cherry that she and Ryan were far past the line. I expect you’ll hear an apology before your birthday party tomorrow.” She clears her throat. “Bring anyone you like.”
A lump surges in my throat. “Really?”
“Might as well start somewhere. Doesn’t hurt that there will be cake and ice cream to help mend fences.”
CHAPTER SIX
Emma
It's pointless trying to decide which I crave more: a good book or ice cream. Reading always wins, and I can sit at the counter before my shift and chat with Jan. But the conversation with Grayson from earlier preoccupies me. I slow to the longest red light in Summerland and pull my phone out of my purse. I could call him again and check on him. Make sure what’s weighing heavy on his mind isn’t killing him.
Or… I could surprise him right now. Like, in person. The Grand Hotel on Main Street is quaint, nice, and on the way to the Delightful Diner. It’s one of three hotels in Summerland, and out of those, it’s the best. Though that isn’t saying much since the worst charges by the hour.
If he can surprise me, I can do the same to him and maybe see if he wants to have a midnight dinner while I work. It might ease his mind. Or maybe I can just make him smile.
My stomach twists. Everything in my life is scripted—one of the reasons I loathe surprises—and that worked well until he showed up. But Grayson has been a game changer.
The light changes, and I drive three blocks up instead of two blocks over. There it is, the hotel Ryan said Grayson was staying at. Nervous excitement makes me jittery, but I’m going to do it. It’ll be fun. Or a disaster. What if he’s sleeping? What if he thinks I’m high maintenance?
Calm down.
I park my car on the street as adrenaline ticks through my blood. The hairs on my arm stand up, and I stifle an excited squeal. My heart skips, and my perma-smile isn’t going away. I was far from miserable before he came home, but now I’m floating on stupid, fluffy love clouds over my… boyfriend?
Whatever his title is, I get out of my car and wander down the street. Grand Hotel’s doors have oversized handles, and everything on the inside is the same as it has always been—shiny hardwood floors and richly colored cushions on monstrous couches. The walls are polished wood, and there’s bold wallpaper. It smells like lemons, but just a hint, a very clean-citrus scent, not heavy, artificially fragrant cleaner.
So… now what?
Heading to the check-in desk, it becomes clear my plan isn’t well thought out. The hotel is just going to tell me his room number?
Hi, where’s Grayson staying at?
Hi, I’m his… girlfriend. I swear. Room number, please?
The front-desk girl turns around, making me groan. Jessie Spikes—like a blast from the past, it’s everyone’s favorite cheerleader from high school. I used to hate this girl and, in my head, had all kinds of bad thoughts about her whenever she was under Grayson’s attention. Petty high school BS. Karma gave it back to me hard. When I was pregnant and alone, Jessie was a relentless gossip.
“Emma.” Jessie draws out my name, convincing me that as soon as I leave the room, she will be on the phone to blather.
“Hi, Jessie. I was, um, hoping that you could point me to—”
“Grayson Ford?” The bubbling exuberance in her voice can’t be contained.
My cheeks heat, and my knotting fingers fidget. I rub my sides, suddenly aware of sweaty palms. “Yes, please.”
“Room two oh two.” She points toward the double spiral staircase that drips in old-timey opulence.
Well… that was easy. I would have expected a blood-sacrifice requirement for that kind of info. “Thanks. Nice to see you.”
I head toward the stairs as Jessie waves her hand, wiggling her fingers as if she’s doing some kind of peppy cheerleader send-off.
“Good luck,” she says.
Good luck? How pathetic. She must think I’m here to try and win him back.
“Right. Thanks.” I can’t shake off the years of not-so-behind-my-back chatter. Okay. No need to get all in my head. I focus on my newest favorite memory—the look on his face when he met Cally. Screw the haters.
Room two oh two. I have no need to hide how vulnerable I am and my excitement about the future. I draw in a breath then knock.
No answer.
Well… I didn’t take into account he wouldn’t be here. I drop my head against the door. So anti-climactic—
The door cracks open, and I stumble headfirst, flailing and falling like a moron into his room and landing on my hands and knees. Graceful much? Ugh. Good thing the guy already loves me. My gaze shifts from hotel-room carpet to a pair of shoes.
Women’s shoes. The nice kind that people don’t wear to work at a diner or when they’re carting a two-year-old around all day. My heart freezes, but my eyes drift to the long legs they’re attached to.
Oh, God.
There’s a woman in perfectly hip-hugging pants, insanely impractical heels, and a shirt that is a blessing to her already gorgeous body—and those breasts have never had a baby nursing on them. They are perfect, and they are in Grayson’s hotel room.
I’m going to puke.
“Hey, down there—you okay?” she asks with a phone pressed to her ear. She lifts a finger, wordlessly asking me to give her a minute.
I jump up, fumbling, spin to the door, check that it’s the right number—it is—and turn back on shaking legs.
She’s pretty. Kind of gorgeous. But she isn’t talking to anyone. The one-minute finger points to her cell and she mouths voicemail. Then she says, “Hey, I’m here to surprise you! See ya. Love ya. Bye.” She expels an exasperated breath, spins around in an outfit I can only describe as date-worthy, and smiles. “Come in, please—”
“I’m sorry, I have the wrong room.” I back up until I stumble against the wall then numbly reach for the door as though exiting this nightmare might help.
“Nope, right room. I’m the one that keeps calling housekeeping.” Her accent screams Southern belle, and she tosses her hand as if she’s throwing out casual information. She smiles perfectly glossy lips. “I called before, but nothing changed, so I had to call again.”
“What…?” Me, housekeeping? I have no idea what’s going on. But I glance at my waitressing clothes, and they could totally be taken for a housekeeping uniform.
“The air conditioner stinks like sulfur or something, and trust me, that’s a smell Grayson can’t handle. Plus, I don’t think I could sleep with it.” She leans forward as if she’s telling a secret. “It’s a bit overwhelming.”
I’m dizzy. My words won’t come. She knows things I don’t know. She leaves messages I’m too timid to leave. I love you.
“Can’t you smell it? It might just be near the bed.” She walks away from me.
Unsteadily and stupidly, I take a step forward toward a king-sized bed. A military green duffel bag and a small pink suitcase sit by the bathroom door. “You can’t…”
“He has a condition. Sulfur really doesn’t help. The bed doesn’t even look slept in. I don’t think he even stayed here last night.”
My stomach lurches. “How do you know him?”
“What?” Her eyebrows pinch. “He’s my fiancé.”
“Oh, God.” Why did I assume all this time had passed, and he hadn’t been in a relationship? Even if I’d thought of that, it never would have occurred to me he’d still be in one.
“I’m sorry.” Her face tightens, confused. “Are you okay?”
Behind me there’s a click-click of the door unlocking. My legs are stuck like columns of cement. I can’t bend my knees, can’t run away. Somehow I pivot. Grayson’s face is dark and brooding, and his eyes aren’t on me. They go straight to her. My mouth goes dry, and my hands tremble.
“Gray!” she squeals.
Gray? My dream of the future shatters a million times over.
She throws her arms out. “Surprise!”
“Shit, Mazie,” he growls.
Confirmation. He knows her. That’s all I need. My legs come back, and even if my mind’s reeling, I can run. I push pass Grayson, sprinting down the hall, skipping down the stairs.
“Emma! Wait!”
But I don’t. I can hear Grayson continue to call after me.
At the base of the stairs, Jessie giggles, only increasing my shame. “Have a good night, Emma.”
Devastated tears streak down my cheeks, and I’m thankful I didn’t park at the hotel. I skip behind the building so no one can find me then weave to my car, which is parked on the street.
Finally, I reach the safety of my Jeep and climb into the driver’s seat. Tears blur my vision, and I reach to the center console for tissues. Coming up without, I do find a drawing Cally made last week. The scribbles and scrawl are supposed to be our new house with two stick figures that hold hands—a mommy and daughter clinging to each other. I can hardly make it out but know her intent. The mommy’s outstretched hand reaches off the page. There’s no one else there for them. That’s how we’ll always be: alone. Even the pictures Cally drew said that was true.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Grayson
I’m standing at the corner of Fuck Me and Screwed after running through the hotel’s parking lot and then up the damn block. My fingers are locked behind my head as I scan the empty streets and ignore the pain surging in my side. Blood pulses around the edges of the almost-healed gunshot wound. None of this is important, though. It’s only a distraction in my hunt for her. But no matter where I go, no Emma.
I shake out my arms and stretch out the pain. Again, I hit her number in my phone. Immediate voicemail.
Fuck me. I took my eyes off her for one second to say “What the hell?” to Mazie. That was all it took for Emma to melt into the night, a ghost of a shadow that I could not track down. She’s not answering her phone—no, she’s rejecting my calls—and I don’t know my next move. I’m without allies and completely friendless in this battle zone.
“Damn it,” I shout on the street corner and pace a tight circle.
I try her cell phone again, and shit—I hate leaving messages. But this time, after the beep, I’m ready to plead. “Please call me back. It’s not what you think.”
God, am I the king of “it’s not what you think”? I shove the phone in my back pocket and storm back to the hotel. When I bust into the lobby, there’s fuckin’ crazy Mazie having a heartfelt discussion with Jessie the desk girl. Fuck me. Summerland County gossip hags are going to love this shit.
“What did you think you were doing?”
Mazie twists her fingers into a knot. “I was trying to get your AC fixed. Stupid, I know. Can’t keep my own shit together, so I jump in yours.”
“I didn’t mention where I was just to have you show up.” I feel eyes on me and pivot. Jessie is staring with rapt attention. I growl at her, and she waves at me with googly eyes. I can’t handle this place sometimes. “Let’s go, Maze.” Sure to fire up the grapevine, I hook an arm around Mazie and guide her to the stairs.
“That was her, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, that was her.” Quickly, I push open the door and take in the room, trying to see what Emma saw. It’s not hard to picture a bad outlook. There’s Mazie’s suitcase next to one bed. And, God, the horror on Emma’s face. “Damn it, Mazie. Couldn’t you have mentioned the pullout couch? Or that you weren’t staying with me?”
She squeezes her eyes shut. “I thought I was helping. I was worried after you blew everyone off at the hospital. Really, I’m sorry.”
My head hurts. Why isn’t Emma at home with Cally? Is she working? Where? I've come too far, and I have too much on the line to lose her—lose them. I turn to Mazie. “I have a daughter.”
Her head jerks back, then her mouth opens once, twice. “Whoa.”
“I can’t lose them.” My turmoil is brutal, as though the devil’s making waves with my soul, causing a hurricane with my heart. I want to scream, want to explode. There are so many things that I want to do—like rip the hotel room apart and beg in Emma’s voicemail for a chance to explain. But this volcano of emotion is not a PTSD attack. It’s something bigger.
“So, go over there.” Mazie’s gaze is fierce. She has a million flaws, but she’s a steadfast friend who I never doubt wants what’s best for me. “I mean, that’s what you should do, right? Find her and explain.”
“Go where? Her home? She wouldn’t leave our daughter by herself. Obviously somebody’s with Cally—”
“Cally? That’s beautiful.”
A lump surfaces in my throat. “I know.” I swallow it away. “So, Emma’s… out. Work?”
“It’s super late.”
If she’s only now heading to work… I have to wonder again how hard she’s had it while I’ve been gone.
“You have a daughter.” Numbly, Mazie trudges toward the couch and collapses. “That’s amazing.”
My phone rings. Caller ID: Emma Kinglsey. I don’t even give her a chance to say hello. “Let me explain.”
Mazie pops up and points toward the door before showing herself out.
“Explain.” Em’s voice is sad and quiet and mistrusting.
“Where are you, Emma?”
“At work.”
Damn it. I knew it. “Where’s that?”
She hesitates. “Why?”
“Because I am coming for you, baby.”
“Grayson, this… you and me. I had some time to think, and I believe in us. I want us. And I have to trust you to get that. Your voicemail said you’d explain, and I’m scared whatever you have to say isn’t enough.”
“It is.” I need to say something that proves she can trust me. That she can give herself to me. Again. Forever. In the middle of my hotel room, I fall to my knees, terrified that what I need to say won’t come to me. I close my eyes and—thank fuck—I can see her face.
“She’s your fiancé?”
C
razie Mazie and her fuckin’ fiancé line. “No. Not at all. It’s not like that. I’ll put her on the phone—”
“Were you engaged to her?”
“No. She’s only a friend. Just like one of the guys. I swear.”
“Gray?” Her mistrusting voice sounds broken. “I’m… I—”
My heart’s pounding. “I was yours the day we met. Before I knew how deep I loved you, I knew you were my friend. My… person. The face I was supposed to see every day. The voice I was supposed to hear every night. If there’s one thing that you need to know it’s… Ems, I was made for you.”
I die waiting as each second passes.
“I’m waitressing at the Delightful Diner. On till four in the morning.” She sniffles. “This is hard, figuring us out.”
On until four in the morning? My insides are strung tight. “I swear I thought you were in college. I thought it. Believed it.” My words break. “That everything was perfect for you without me. College, classes, fun, parties. Far away from the hell that I was living every day.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t know you were killing yourself with work. I didn’t know you're raising our daughter. So help me God, had I known, there is no military force on earth that would’ve kept me from you.”
She sniffles, and I would absorb her pain if I could. I’d do anything to make this right for her.
“Grayson,” she whispers. “I still want the fairytale.”
“Good. Because it’s coming for you.”
Emma
Delightful Diner’s door chimes, and I turn around, knowing it’s Grayson. There’s something about his presence that, even before I see him, makes me react to him. It’s as if the air shimmers, and the pressure increases. My skin tingles, and my nerves fire.
Our eyes lock as the diner lulls. Every eye is on him. Everyone in this stinking county thinks they know our story. He ignores them, and his fiery emerald eyes focus on me like lasers, pinning me with a fierce hunger and desire, with alpha possession and domination. It’s so real and so palpable I’m not sure how I’m still standing.
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