You First

by Stephanie Fournet

  Gray smiled and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Do you like Brussels sprouts?”

  Meredith tried not to make a face. She could be mature and gracious. “We never had them growing up, but Brooke’s mom steams them all the time.”

  “Try one. These are roasted with honey butter and bacon.”

  Already guessing that had to be better than steamed, Meredith speared one with her fork and popped it into her mouth. The decadent flavor combination had her rethinking vegetables altogether.

  “I don’t think I knew what food was before I met you,” she muttered in ecstasy.

  Gray’s laugher echoed off the walls. “Good. Introducing you to the things I like is fun.”

  She sampled the potatoes, and when she could speak, she shook her head. “Meanwhile, I’ve got you eating cookies with cornflakes and breakfast casserole with tater tots. I’m such a philistine.”

  At this, Gray laughed so hard, he leaned back against the loveseat cushions with tears in his eyes. “Yes, because that’s exactly the word that leaps to mind when I think of you.”

  Watching him laugh made her laugh too, but she couldn’t help but wonder what words she did bring to mind.

  “Well, Ruth’s Chris takeout is certainly a first for me,” she said, regarding the labeled bag. “Why do they call it Ruth’s Chris Steak House, anyway? I’ve always thought that was odd.”

  Wiping his eyes with the heels of his hand, Gray forked another bite of steak into his mouth and said, cryptically. “Ruth Fertel.”

  “What?”

  “She’s kind of a New Orleans legend,” Gray said. “In the sixties, Ruth Fertel found herself divorced with two kids. She wanted to be able to send her sons to college, and she knew she couldn’t do it on whatever she was making at the time — I think she was working at Tulane as a lab tech or something — so she decided to go all in on the purchase of the Chris Steak House on Broad Street.”

  “Seriously?”

  Gray’s eyes smiled at her. “Yeah, and she was this tiny, little thing. About your size, and in the beginning, she did it all. She taught herself how to butcher steaks and cut up sides of beef by hand until she could afford the heavy-duty equipment.” He seemed to enjoy telling her the story, and Meredith listened, intrigued. “Everyone told her she’d go bankrupt, but that didn’t happen. When she started hiring staff, she only chose single mothers because she said they were the hardest workers.” He arched a brow and gave her a meaningful glance.

  “How do you know all this?” she asked, a little awed.

  “Well, my mom told us all about her — every time we went to Ruth’s Chris, in fact, but I think most New Orleans natives know something about Ruth Fertel. Like I said, she’s a bit of a legend. For years, Ruth’s Chris was the only restaurant in NOLA with an all-female wait staff.”

  “That is so cool.”

  Gray nodded. “I know, right?”

  “See, that just proves my point.”

  “What point?” His focus narrowed on her.

  “The fact that you know so much more than me. I don’t see how I can compete.”

  He gave her a wry look. “I didn’t realize we were competing.”

  She swatted at his knee, making him laugh. “You know what I mean.”

  “Meredith, you know a lot of things I don’t know.”

  She rolled her eyes. He was so much more worldly and sophisticated than she was. “Name one.”

  Gray didn’t miss a beat. “You know what it’s like to have a child.”

  He’s got you there.

  “Well, yeah… but I didn’t plan that.”

  “Well, yeah… but,” he mimicked, chuckling, “I didn’t plan on being born in New Orleans, either. Your life experience is no less valid than mine.”

  Meredith blinked. Had she been trying to suggest that her life experience was less valid? Was she just airing her insecurities? Or did this have to do with fear?

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said as honestly as she could.

  Gray nudged his food away, and leaned back against the loveseat. “What did you mean?” He brought his fingers back to his forehead and absently rubbed them back and forth.

  Now, knowing what she knew, every time he showed pain, Meredith wanted to whimper. She reached for him instead, her fingers brushing his aside and picking up where she’d left off the day before, rubbing in easy circles.

  He dropped his head into her right hand and shut his eyes. “Mmm… God, I love that,” he whispered almost plaintively.

  Sitting side by side, she couldn’t tend to him like she wanted to. So she rotated to face him, climbing in his lap and putting a knee on either side of his thighs. His eyes opened at once.

  “Don’t get any ideas, soldier.”

  His hands found her waist. “I don’t think I can help that.”

  His face was lit with such humor she giggled.

  “No, just close your eyes and let me do this.” She kept working with her fingers.

  He shut his eyes and sighed. “Oh, Meredith. You’re killing me.”

  “No. No dying,” she scolded gently. “Just living.”

  “Just living,” he echoed, nodding slightly in her hands.

  She took a slow, full breath. “You asked me a question a minute ago.”

  “I did?” His brows lifted, but his lids stayed closed.

  “You did.” She was speaking softly now, the intimacy of being so close to him working its spell on her too. She loved touching him. She loved watching him unravel under her caress. She loved that he let her give this to him without putting up a fight or making her lose control with his own touch.

  “You asked me what I meant… about our differences.”

  Gray opened his eyes, and she knew it was so he could read her face. “Close your eyes. It’s easier to explain when you aren’t looking at me.”

  He obeyed with another sigh, and she felt his fingers at her waist grip her just a little tighter. “Okay.”

  “I think there’s a part of me that’s trying to talk one of us out of… whatever this is.”

  Despite his agreement, he looked up at her. “Now, why would you want to do that?” His expression was completely neutral, but since his eyes weren’t smiling, she knew that it was costing him. Her hands stilled.

  “Because I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of how I feel.”

  His smile returned. “I’m afraid of a lot of things, but how I feel about you isn’t one of them.”

  Meredith swallowed. When she couldn’t open her mouth to speak, Gray brought a hand up to her hair and smoothed a stray lock behind her ear.

  “I’m afraid of never getting the chance to know you like I want to,” he said, his voice pitching low. “And I can promise you, sweetness, two weeks isn’t enough time for that.”

  Her breath hitched. On instinct, she bent down and pressed a kiss to his lips. She drew back to see his broad smile.

  “Not nearly long enough.” His smile was now full of mischief, but she rewarded him anyway, giving him the same tiny kiss.

  “Really, I cannot stress how insufficient two weeks is—”

  She threw her head back and laughed, and he joined her. Laughing with Gray was the best ever.

  He rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “So if you’re trying to talk yourself out of giving me a chance to do that with whatever amount of time we have,” he said, cocking a brow at her, “I’m asking you to quit it. But if you’re trying to talk me out of it, it won’t change a thing.”

  Gray Blakewood knew exactly what to say to make her feel better. How did he do that?

  She moved a hand up to his cheek to match the touch he gave her, and the look he gave her — the look of barely contained desire — caused a rippling inside of her. One that chased a path all the way down her body.

  “You’re pretty wonderful,” she said easily.

  His smile teased. “Really? Hmm.” He looked at her askance, as though he were contemplating.
“See, now I don’t know if I should tell you about dessert or see if you’ll let me take you to second base while I’ve got you in this position.”

  “Oh my God, are you twelve?!” she shouted, pushing herself off his lap. “Dessert. Give me the damn dessert!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  GRAY’S PHONE CHIMED while they laughed. He ignored it. As far as he was concerned, little else was more important than watching Meredith come apart over his attempts at humor. And even as she laughed, she shook her head at his last remark. Admittedly, the second base comment had been a little crude, but he hoped dessert would make up for it.

  “Oh my God, is this crème brulée?”

  Instead of the classic white ramekin, Meredith held up a little foil dish full of the mouth-watering custard. Her look of surprised delight was worth every penny and all of Bax’s bitching about ordering takeout from the upscale steakhouse.

  “As promised,” Gray said with a nod.

  “I can’t believe you did that.” Her brown eyes grew wide with wonder.

  Gray shrugged. “We shut-ins have our moments.”

  She dropped her chin and regarded him under one arched brow. “Shut-in? Please.” Then she jumped to her feet. “We need spoons. Be right back.”

  He watched her dart out of the room, and he didn’t stop watching until she disappeared down the stairs. Then he picked up his phone and squinted at the letters until they stopped wiggling on the screen.

  Bax: What the hell is going on up there?

  He typed a single question mark in response and hit send. Then he shut his eyes. Only for a moment. A thin band stretching across his visual field seemed to be on acid, and it made working on his laptop — trying to write and read what he’d written — like trying to sew with numb fingers. He’d had this kind of ocular disturbance before, so it didn’t alarm him — much — but he couldn’t face the thought of working anymore tonight.

  His phone chimed again, and Gray told Siri to read it to him.

  “Okay,” Siri agreed. “Bax’s text said: The laughing. We’ve never heard you laugh like that. You okay? Would you like to send a reply?”

  Hearing his brother’s words in Siri’s voice made him snicker, but the message itself didn’t surprise him. Gray felt like laughing more with Meredith than with anyone he’d ever known.

  “No,” he told his phone, and he opened his eyes as soon as he heard her bouncing up the stairs. She came to a halt as she reached the doorway.

  “You okay? You look tired.”

  He nodded. “I am tired, but come sit by me and have dessert.” He held out his hand to her, and she crossed the room, tucked her hand in his, and gave him a squeeze.

  “Can I do anything?” she asked, sitting beside him.

  He gave her a smile and tried to pull himself together. “You’re doing it.”

  Meredith handed him a spoon, and he made himself pick up his dessert, but all he wanted to do was watch her enjoy it. Smiling, she tapped at the golden, caramelized shell with the tip of her spoon. A little gasp escaped her when she broke through the surface, and Gray didn’t have to put any effort into appearing carefree. He was beaming.

  She scooped up a spoonful of the creamy dessert, took a bite, and then she held perfectly still, her face shining with pleasure. Gray took a hurried taste so he could know exactly what she experienced.

  The crème brulée was a silky, rich mouthful of vanilla sweetness. The layer of caramelized sugar added just a hint of toasted-crunch perfection. And Gray watched every flavor and texture play out on Meredith’s angelic face.

  “Yum!”

  “I told you so,” he teased, earning himself a playful scowl.

  “You must really like saying that,” she batted back before taking another bite and looking heavenward. “Damn, that’s good.”

  “Face of an angel. Mouth of a devil. Lucky me.”

  The scowl was back. “You’re about to be wearing this.”

  He laughed and then laughed harder at the thought of his befuddled family listening downstairs. “I’ll take my chances. I think you like it too much to waste any on me.”

  She glanced down at her rapidly emptying dish and pulled a look of deliberation. “Too true.” Then she nodded to his. “You’ve barely touched yours. Is something wrong?”

  Gray surveyed the food containers in front of him. He’d left more than half of the dinner untouched, and as good as the crème brulée was, his head was crowded with such pain, he couldn’t swallow anything more.

  “I think I need to go to bed,” he said, not wanting to worry her with the details. Her dessert spoon paused mid-air, and she eyed him sharply.

  “You’d tell me if there was anything new, right?”

  He met her gaze and told her the truth. He owed her that. “I’d tell you if there was anything new. I’m just worn out.”

  Meredith nodded, visibly relaxing. “It’s been a long day.” Then she patted him on the knee. “Why don’t you head down, and I’ll get this cleaned up.”

  She stood and he grabbed her hand. “Not so fast… Can you stay?” He hated the way he sounded. So weak. So dependent. He just knew that if she stayed, he wouldn’t regret the passing hours quite as much, and he’d multiply his bank of memories that seemed — with each fleeting moment — to be his greatest treasure.

  But he saw at once she wouldn’t stay, and he was grateful that her eyes held disappointment and not pity. “I can’t. Oscar went to bed crying for me, and Jamie made the most of that, but I’ll be back tomorrow after class.”

  Gray frowned. “What do you mean he made the most of that?”

  “Maternal guilt,” she said. “It’s my Achilles heel, and Jamie knows it.”

  An animal urge to throw the punk aside and claim the fool’s family as his own had all of Gray’s muscles bunching. He hadn’t allowed himself to think too much about Meredith’s living situation before yesterday…

  But now? His jaw clenched.

  “So, tomorrow, after class…” Gray heard the growl in his words, and he took a breath to rein the animal in. “…go home first, pick up your son, and bring him here.”

  She stared at him unblinking for several seconds before the corners of her mouth curled up in a grin. “Gray, what was that?”

  Her question took him off his guard and put him smack dab in his place. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. What right did he have to tell her what to do with her child?

  Her grin grew.

  “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, feeling like an idiot. “That was…”

  “That was what?” she prompted, looking more and more amused.

  “That was your typical raw, male territorial response at its worst,” he said, feeling his face heat. “And you don’t need me to fight your battles.”

  She leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You’re right…” She pulled back nodding. “…but it’s nice to know you’re on my side.”

  “Completely,’’ he vowed without hesitation.

  She started packing up the takeout boxes. “And if you mean it, I will bring Oscar tomorrow.”

  “I mean it.”

  “Good. Now, please go down. You look like you’re about to collapse. I’ll come check on you before I leave.”

  “I’ll help you with this,” he said, reaching for the bag, but she swatted his hand away.

  “This is my job. You have to let me do my job,” she insisted.

  Gray got to his feet. “And with that, she sent me to bed like a child,” he quipped.

  She giggled, just the sound he was hoping for. Anything to make him feel less ineffectual. He walked to the door, clutching his head.

  “Gray?”

  He turned back, dropping his hand so she wouldn’t see.

  “You’re a good four inches taller than Jamie. You’d cast a shadow over him. I have no doubt that, under normal conditions, you could totally kick his ass,” she said, wearing the sexiest smirk. “And if he knew how I felt about you,
he might actually make you. But let’s save that for after your head is fixed.”

  Gray bit down on his smile. “So, for the record, as far as you’re concerned, my masculinity is completely intact.”

  “Without a doubt.”

  Gray felt a surge in the most masculine part of his anatomy at the searing look in her eyes.

  “Glad we cleared that up.”

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, he lay in bed, running over the events of the day. His last chapter was almost finished. Just a few pages to go. If he felt well enough, he could knock them out in an hour or so and start on revisions. If Jude truly was able to quick turn the edits, they might actually meet Meredith’s deadline.

  Meredith’s deadline. Gray smiled. Had he been half that together at nineteen or twenty?

  Hell, no.

  But she was a powerhouse. And despite the fact that she claimed he intimidated her, she didn’t have any problem laughing in his face when he acted like an ass.

  Yet, she’d cried in his arms. Over him! He tucked away the bittersweet memory and the feel of her in his lap. Despite the news that his tumor had grown — faster than Dr. Cates expected — the day hadn’t been all that bad. He was almost finished with the book; he’d made a definitive decision about the surgery, and Meredith was by his side.

  His only real regret was that he’d felt rotten during dinner. Healthy, Gray would have eaten all of his steak and the rest of hers. Of course, none of his suffering had dimmed the pleasure of watching her enjoy the meal.

  He loved sharing things with her. If he had more time, he’d show her everything he loved. They could travel. Paris was a favorite, but what would it be like to take her to the Loire Valley in the springtime? Hand in hand, they could explore every inch of the best chateaux, get lost in the hedge maze at Chenenceaux. Taste wine and eat baguettes by the river. In a garret room at Le Manoir Les Minimes, they could stay up late and sleep even later…

  But if he only had two weeks…

  Without a second thought, Gray resolved to call André in the morning.

  Just as the peace of this decision settled over him, Meredith slipped into his bedroom.

  “Hey,” she hoarse-whispered, coming around the foot of the bed and sitting beside him. The covers pulled tighter around him with her weight, and he could feel the curve of her hip against his. He may never have her in a hotel room in France, but she was here with him now, and Gray was grateful for every minute.