You First

by Stephanie Fournet

  “I’ll see you in a little while,” she told him. “Have fun.”

  Gray bent down and pressed a kiss on the boy’s head, and Oscar hugged his knee. Gray loved when he did that. So much so that he heaved him up until they were eye to eye, the toddler giggling wildly, and Gray kissed him on the cheek. Grinning, Gray gave him a squeeze before setting him down again.

  Oscar may have been another man’s son by flesh, but as far as Gray was concerned, that meant nothing. The two-year-old chattered constantly, but he never asked about his father because the asshole never spent any time with him. Even when Oscar went to visit his grandparents, Jamie McCormick rarely made a point to be there.

  By contrast, Gray knew everything about Oscar. His favorite lunch was “zebra butter” and jelly, a sandwich Meredith made him almost every day on the panini press. It was the first thing Gray’d bought right after he’d been released from the hospital.

  Once or twice a week — when Meredith and Oscar would spend the night — they’d all wake up the next morning and take the dogs for a walk. After the first time Gray had lashed the dogs’ leashes to the frame of his stroller — and the child had gone limp with laughter — this had become their routine. A favorite for everyone — even Vulcan and Juno.

  Sometimes, when Oscar sat on his lap, he’d find the scar along Gray’s scalp with his tiny fingers. Gray’s hair had grown back, but the little guy hadn’t forgotten the scary mark, and he’d ask if Gray was all better.

  “All better and then some,” Gray would say. And that was the truth.

  “Bye, O-man. We’ll see you in a little while,” Gray said, scrubbing the boy’s wild golden curls before pulling Meredith toward the door.

  In his Acura, she was quiet until he turned onto Philip Street and headed toward St. Charles.

  “So, am I dressed okay for whatever we’re doing?” she asked, glancing down at her shorts and flip-flops.

  Gray grinned. When winter had turned to spring, he’d fallen in love with the daily sight of her bare legs. He put a hand on her knee as he drove.

  “You look amazing,” he muttered, pulling his eyes back to the road.

  She tried fishing some more. “Is it going to be fun?”

  Gray shook his head. “No. Definitely not,” he told her honestly.

  He stole a peek at her just in time to see her frown in confusion. “You’re not joking.”

  “Totally serious.”

  “Then why are we doing it?”

  His mouth twitched. “We have an appointment.”

  She blinked in surprise. “We do?”

  Gray nodded.

  “When?”

  “At two o’clock.”

  Meredith looked at the dash display. “That’s in thirty minutes. Are we going to make it?”

  He nodded again. “We’ll be early.”

  Silence.

  “Is it for your book?”

  Gray stifled a laugh. He was on Chapter Twelve of his fifth novel, and Meredith had become invaluable in the process, a true and treasured assistant. She was still his first read, but she also helped him with research and authentication. They worked together for a few hours each day, and he loved every minute of it.

  They didn’t come back all at once, and he hadn’t recovered all of his memories, but little flashes of recognition surprised him all the time. Dr. Cates told him he might remember everything one day, but even reading the second half of his fourth novel didn’t rekindle any notion of writing the chapters.

  Yet Gray couldn’t complain about that experience. He was happy, overall, with the way the book had turned out, and how many writers get to experience their work fresh? As a reader? Seeing the plot twists and the surprises with new eyes? And better still, the novel was doing well. Really well.

  “No, this isn’t work.”

  She huffed a sigh. “It’s not work, but it’s not fun.”

  This time he did laugh. “Well, I’m having fun.”

  “Clearly,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling. She tried to scowl, anyway. Her smile was a little too strong to make it believable. Then her eyes widened. “Was Brooke in on this?”

  Gray just cleared his throat and concentrated on driving. He owed Meredith’s roommate big time. He’d managed to fill out the DS-11, but Brooke had been in charge of getting the photo with all of the State Department passport requirements — in front of a white background, no shadows over her face, etc. Brooke had told her it was for a class project, and she’d taken one of Rajan just to make it believable.

  The trickiest part was getting Meredith’s birth certificate. Brooke had reached out to Meredith’s sister, Becca, for that, and the fifteen-year-old had come through like a champ, swiping it from their dad’s desk and mailing it to Gray. He’d met the girl just once during her Easter break when she’d lied to her parents and had them drop her off at Lafayette Lanes. They’d all gathered at Twins for burgers instead.

  She looked so much like Meredith, he’d done a double-take. She even blushed the same. Becca wore braces, and her hair had been styled in French braids, making her look twelve instead of fifteen, but Gray knew one day she’d stun men alive just like her sister.

  For now, Becca and Oscar were all Meredith could claim as family, but Gray wanted to change that.

  As eager as he was, he knew to be patient. He wanted to marry her now, but she was only twenty, though she never seemed so young. Still, it was only fair to give her time.

  But that didn’t mean they couldn’t live together.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Don’t forget,” she said, sitting taller in the passenger seat, a hint of playful smugness in her tone. “After two months of non-verbal communication, I can read you like a book. It’s not just the other way around anymore.”

  Gray bit down on his lips to contain his smile but kept his eyes on the road. She was right. Though he could read her every mood on her face, in the days after his surgery, she was the only one who could speak for him. Literally. She’d known what he wanted or needed with just a glance. She’d been the one to press for an early release when she saw how tiring it was for him to stay at the hospital. She’d gone to the speech pathology department at UL and found him the best speech therapist in town because she knew how embarrassed and frustrated he felt. She put in hour after hour helping him practice, reading to him from his forgotten manuscript, and negotiating the final edits with his team so he could find his way back to doing what he loved.

  Even without a bank of memories, he’d wanted her to move in then. But Meredith had insisted that she and Oscar needed their own place for a while.

  Gray had allowed six months to pass without bringing it up — even though he thought about it nearly every day. Because although Meredith still worked for him and he got to see her on a daily basis, she still left him nearly every night.

  But Gray didn’t want to wait any longer. Saying goodbye to them at the end of every day left his house feeling empty and quiet. Unnatural.

  “How is Brooke?” Gray asked, stalling.

  Meredith snickered. “She and Rajan are probably bringing the Kama Sutra to life in celebration of the fact that Oscar and I are gone for a few days.”

  Brooke was going to ask Rajan to move in if Meredith and Oscar went to Gray’s. He knew this, but Meredith didn’t. Neither one of them wanted Meredith to feel that she didn’t have any options. This would have been the right moment to bring up the subject, but Gray had just turned onto Canal Street, and he was scanning the road for a parking spot.

  He found one right in front of the entrance of the monolithic Canal Place. The mid-afternoon heat — always worse downtown — was like a mugging. With the folder tucked under his arm, he opened Meredith’s door to escort her out, and she pointed to Morton’s Steakhouse on the ground floor.

  “You want a steak?”

  “Not at the moment.” He took her hand. “Come on.”

  He ferried her into the air-conditioned cool of the lobby, and she watched
, silent, as he pressed the button for the elevator.

  They stepped inside, alone, and when he tapped the thirteen, she narrowed her eyes at him.

  “When are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  He squeezed her hand, so glad the elevator was empty.

  “The other day, I remembered that I owed you something.” He pulled her close and watched her river-dark eyes search his. Gray stole the chance to brush his lips against hers. He pulled back just a fraction to see her blush.

  “You don’t owe me anything,” she said, her voice hushed, the stolen kiss so potent in the closeted elevator.

  “But I do. You were listening to that Bastille song the other day — the one about being set free—”

  “You mean when you caught me singing in your kitchen again?” she asked, the color on her cheeks deepening.

  Gray couldn’t help but smile. It happened a lot, and he loved it.

  “Yeah, and I was thinking of the band, and then I thought of the Place de la Bastille in Paris, which is about a twenty-minute walk across the Seine to La Bouteille D’Or,” he paused, watching her eyes widen as he spoke. “And I remembered I owe you a date.”

  The elevator doors opened then, and signs for the New Orleans Passport Center welcomed them. Meredith’s gaze darted back and forth as her mouth fell open. Gasping, she covered it with her hand.

  “But, Gray, I don’t have my birth certificate. It’s—”

  He raised the folder. “Right here, sweetness.”

  She staggered back, her eyes lit with a giddy fire. Her hands reached for his. “What?! We’re going?”

  He led her off the elevator, and she followed half stunned. “We leave Wednesday. We’ll be gone ten days.”

  “Today’s Monday,” she choked.

  He nodded. “Everything — except this — has been taken care of. Tickets. Reservations. Suitcases. Everything. Mom and Dad will keep Oscar — if that’s okay with you.”

  Meredith’s gorgeous eyes welled. “They would do that?”

  “They love him and they love you,” he vowed. “And so do I.”

  Gray wrapped her in his arms and asked for what he wanted. “And after we’ve had three nights in Paris, and three nights in the Loire Valley, and three nights in Bordeaux, we’ll come back,” he said, hoping all the right words would come to his aid. “And I’d like… If you want… It would make me so hap— Would you and Oscar come live with me? I promise, I’ll always put you first.”

  Through her tears, Meredith’s face shone like a candle. The glow of it was something Gray could feel on his skin, behind his eyes, and deep in his chest.

  “Yes. We’ll come live with you. Nothing could make me h-happier.” But her tears showed no sign of ceasing.

  He pulled her to his chest and crushed her lips with his. He gave her one solid, love-drenched kiss outside a government office in the middle of New Orleans. And she held on with enough force to make his toes curl.

  When he drew back, her cheeks were still wet, but the tears had stopped. Gray looked down at the woman he loved. She’d survived abandonment, abuse, and attack — all before the age of twenty — and she’d managed to shield her son from every bit of it. She’d given Gray a reason to live when he thought he might lose it all. She’d saved his life when he was too stubborn to save it himself. She’d given him back his memories and his words. She’d helped him to write again. And, in two weeks, she would come home with him.

  For the rest of his life, if he had his way.

  “C’mon,” he said, turning them toward the passport office. “Let’s go see about that date.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  STEPHANIE FOURNET, author of five novels including Leave a Mark and You First, lives in Lafayette, Louisiana—not far from the Saint Streets where her novels are set. She shares her home with her husband John and their needy dogs Gladys and Mabel, and sometimes their daughter Hannah even comes home from college to visit them. When she isn’t writing romance novels, Stephanie is usually helping students get into college or running. She loves hearing from fans, so look for her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads, and stephaniefournet.com.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A PART OF ME can’t believe that this is my fifth novel. This is my dream, and I’m so thankful it’s mine to live. And I’m thankful to everyone who has helped me along the way.

  For this book, thanks to my friend Dr. Kevin Hargrave. I asked him for a brain tumor, and he gave me just the right one. Thanks, also, to my Lovely Levee Lady Leslie Soileau, whose surgical tech expertise helped me to see what Gray saw before his surgery.

  Thanks to my friend Lisa Traylor Wilson and her mother, the late Virgie Traylor, for introducing me to the supreme bliss of chocolate chip and cornflake cookies.

  I’d like to offer my condolences to the family of Mickey Shunick and pay homage to Mickey’s spirit. Like Meredith, I walk, run, and ride my bike past Mickey’s memorial on St. Landry Street near where she was attacked, and I do feel as though the place is sacred ground. It is definitely a place of contemplation and inspiration for me.

  Thanks to Jen Halligan and Jess Townsend at JHPR. And thank you to Nathan and Rachel Van Dyken, Paula Buckendorf, Kathleen Payne, Jena Brignola, Jill Sava, Kristin Vayden, Elise Faber, Linda Oaks, and all of the supportive folks at Blue Tulip Publishing. Y’all are the best!

  As always, thank you to my husband John. Your support and encouragement as I go through all of the rough steps of the creative process mean so much to me.

  Finally, dear reader, thank you for picking up this book. Whether it is your first time or the fifth time you’ve read one of my novels, I am truly grateful! And don’t forget to post a review!

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