by Parker Wren
I would never betray him. A small, selfish, narcissistic side of me wanted me to be the cause of his revelation—that I was the girl who was the better match, who made him realize that what we could have would be much greater than anything either of us had had in previous relationships.
And yet, with a sinking feeling, I knew that person could never be me. He wanted someone to trust. I had lied to him. I had betrayed his best friend.
He would never choose me.
“I think you did the right thing. Thanks for sharing that with me,” I said, uncertain of what else to say.
We were sitting now. We repositioned the blanket on our inclined little hill so we could look directly at the sky. Our hands were still intertwined; he would stroke my hand with his thumb. I didn’t dare mention this touch, and neither did he. We both knew it meant something. And we both knew we shouldn’t talk about it.
“Okay,” he said. “Now on to what I want to tell you.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“About that break-in,” he said. “And what happened to you.”
Grayson turned to face me. He cupped my face with his hand.
“First, I am so, so sorry about what happened to you,” he said.
I nodded. I appreciated his sincerity, and was relishing in the electric touch of his hand on my cheek.
“I know who it was,” Grayson said.
CHAPTER 29
“You what?”
I stood as quickly as I could. My mood suddenly switched from happiness to frustration, fear, and anger. “What the fucking hell, Grayson? Did you do this to me?”
A look of terror crossed Grayson’s gray face. “No! No, Ariel, how could you think that?”
Did you know that I’m here to spy on your friend? I thought to myself. Do I really even know anything about you?
I sat down back on the blanket, arms crossed. “Okay. Explain.”
Grayson sat down beside me, but kept his distance.
“It’s kind of a long story, okay?” he said, his voice soft. “So just wait until I’m done.”
He took a deep breath. “Henry’s father—John, as you might already know—is a pretty powerful guy. He gets what he wants. I’ve never liked him, I’ve always been on Henry’s side, but a weird thing happened about six months ago. John asked me for a meeting in his office. He specifically told me to not tell Henry. I wasn’t sure why, I thought maybe it had something to do with a surprise gift for Henry or something, so I agreed.
“When I got there, John gave me his usual bullshit spiel about how even if I didn’t come from the right upbringing, I had always been a loyal friend to Henry. He shared with me that the investment firm might be facing financial trouble, and they were worried about Henry’s possible involvement. I don’t know anything else. I don’t know if Henry did anything or what it could even be. I’ve tried asking Henry about it, but he won’t tell me anything. He just says that he hates his father’s business and wants nothing to do with his father or with the firm.
“And then John asked me a strange request. He looked me in the eye—which I know sounds silly, but it was in this really intense way—and said, ‘I need you to look out for Henry.’ I asked him why, what could I do for Henry, and this is what hold me. He said, ‘There could be people out there who want to hurt him. You are the only person I trust who is loyal to Henry. You don’t care about money, so I know that no one could buy you. But trust me when I say that Henry is not safe. I need you to stick by his side no matter what. Please, Grayson. Please.’ I don’t know how many times he said please. But for a guy like John, it was a lot.
“I despise John to a certain extent, but I just couldn’t tell him no. There is something about the way he said it… I believed him. I had to look out for Henry. Heck, I owe Henry that. He’s gotten me out of a bind plenty of times. And frankly”—Grayson paused, then gave me a playful side-glance— “do you really think I would be spending my whole summer in Martha’s Vineyard, the third wheel—or, I guess I ended up being fifth wheel—by choice? Not exactly what I wanted to do for the summer, but I believed John when he said that someone needed to look out for Henry.”
I nodded.
“That all makes sense,” I said quietly as the pit in my stomach grew larger, knowing I was the person Grayson was warned to watch out for. I also knew that I had information Manuel would want. Henry very likely had helped his father do something he shouldn’t. Exactly what, though, I didn’t know, and neither did Grayson.
“But then what does that have to do with me getting attacked the other night?” I asked.
Grayson shook his head and clenched his jaw. “That was something stupid,” he said. “I would never in a million years do something like that. As soon as it happened, I thought about going straight to John, to ask why the hell he sent some thugs to do my job—why they would target you, of all people—when I remembered that Henry had mentioned some friends from college who had talked about ‘looking after him’ after they had all worked at John’s firm. So I thought about approaching them first. It was just a feeling, I guess. I left New York early because one had agreed to see me on Martha’s Vineyard. He was still here, I guess, soaking up the rays after sticking a gun in a perfectly innocent woman’s face—“
He paused, looking at me, his face pained. I turned my gaze to the ground.
“In any case, he admitted to it, that he was just trying to protect Henry. He and his friends have some kind of savior complex I guess. They are paranoid that the work Henry did for his father might lead him into trouble, and Henry had told them about you and Dom staying, and I guess… hey got some ridiculous notion in their head that you and Dom, or at least you, were ‘spying’ on Henry.”
I shivered. It was hard for me to believe that the guys didn’t have more information than just a hunch. They seemed so sure that there was someone sent to spy on Henry. If they knew about the operation, though, why hadn’t they told Grayson?
I asked, “Did anyone ask these guys to do it? Is it possible that John put them up to it?”
“I think so, yeah,” Grayson continued. “They won’t admit it and said it was all their idea, which is bullshit. Someone gave them the security alarm code, but they aren’t budging on admitting that John had anything to do with it. I got the guy to admit that John had asked them to look out for Henry the same way he asked me, though.”
“This is fucking ridiculous,” I mumbled. “What in the hell is going on at that organization that so many people are worried Henry will get into trouble?”
Grayson stared out at the boats on the sea. “Things that are not good.” Then he whispered beneath his breath: “Not good at all.”
You’re telling me, I thought.
We headed back to the house mostly in silence. I hoped that Grayson understood, given all the news he had shared with me tonight, that I needed time to think about everything. Towards the end of the walk, he cleared his throat.
“So now you see, Ariel, you don’t have to leave on Monday.” There was hope in his voice. “I talked to those guys. They know now that you have nothing to do with this. They begged me not to tell Henry—none of us want Henry to know that we are watching out for him. John made that very clear to me. Henry would completely freak out. All of us would be on his shit list. He would hate the idea of anyone looking out for him, especially if the request came from his father. You are safe now. I promise.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I mean, with me and Dom…” I supposed that Dom and I could get back together, but I had no interest in going down that road. We weren’t going to find out anything about Henry here. And frankly, I had no interest in finding out what I could. If there was anything Henry did, it was while he was still at his father’s firm. He wasn’t someone currently moving around money, which was the whole point of our mission.
But to leave on Monday would mean to not see Grayson. To not see what could happen with him.
Again, though, I reminded myself: What could possib
ly happen between me and Grayson once he found out who I was?
CHAPTER 30
Grayson and I had returned late, and I told him I was just going to sleep in Dom’s room, but to not worry. (I’m not sure why I said that,or what he was expecting, but he just nodded and squeezed my hand.)
On Sunday—my last full day at the house—I awoke to the sound of large vehicle engines and an array of voices from downstairs. In an attempt to look presentable for the gaggle of whomever it was downstairs, I put on a short skirt and button-down blouse, then threw my hair into a bun.
When I came downstairs, there were flowers everywhere; gorgeous trays of exotic fruit, cheeses, cookies, and cakes that drowned the kitchen countertops; wine and beers stacked stacked in coolers; and containers of styrofoam boxes with dry ice and dinner entrees.
“Arieel!” cried Brit as she emerged from the master bedroom to hug me. She was wearing a long floral maxi dress that enhanced her sparkly blue eyes. “You knew we couldn’t let you have one last night at our humble chateau here without a going away dinner, did you?”
“Our Britania sure likes to plan, doesn’t she?” Henry said. He gave Brit a kiss on her check while he balanced a cup of coffee.
Brit kept a tight smile. “Well, first darling, you know I don’t like being called that, but
you know, Ariel, this was all Henry’s idea! Wasn’t that kind of him?”
I smiled at them, not sure exactly how gracious to be. “It’s so wonderful of you both, but it’s really too much. I wouldn’t have expected—”
“Oh, no need, no need,” Brit said and dismissed me with her hand. “Oh, Henry! Are these the tulips you know I love?”
“Yes, darling,” he said as he set down his cup and pulled her closer to him.
I nearly rolled my eyes at how over the top Henry and Brit were.
Was this real life? I wondered.
Brit must have remembered that I was in the room, so she stopped kissing Henry for a moment and returned to. “I know a big shindig with people you don’t know would be a bit too much, so don’t worry. It’s just the five of us, unless there is someone else you would like to invite?”
I shrugged. “No, that sounds great,” I said. Henry and Brit seemed still oblivious about me and Dom, who still hadn’t told them about our breakup. I grudgingly wondered how the dynamic among me, Dom, and Grayson would play out at dinner.
I went out to the back deck and saw that Dom and Grayson were playing volleyball on the sand. I smiled, glad to see them having fun. Occasionally, they would both break out in laughter, and I found myself achingly curious of what they were talking about. I liked watching Dom’s broad, lean muscles tense as he hit the ball with a deep—almost comical—frown of concentration on his face. Grayson’s muscles encased his taller, leaner body, which was able to reach and move in ways that showed off his hips, shoulders, and long legs. His face was deadly serious the entire time, and I could see the sweat mat his dark hair to his forehead before he absentmindedly pushed away the strands with his fingertips.
As soon the game was over, though, both men dropped their intense faces and broke out into smile. I chose that moment to go out further on the beach and meet them. I was thankful to be in a pair of sunglasses so that neither could see my eyes.
“Have you heard about this party?” I asked.
Dom groaned. “Don’t get me started.”
“Is it really a going away party for me?” I asked. “If so, it seems a little… overboard.”
“You never know with Henry and Brit,” Grayson said, slightly out of breath. He placed the volleyball against my chest. “Fancy a game?” he asked.
I pulled my lips over to the left side of my face and pretented to think deeply. “Okay, fine,” I said. “A quick one.”
“I’m going to go shower,” Dom said quietly, then headed inside. I felt a pang of guilt. My intent wasn’t to kick him off the beach. I needed to make peace with Dom soon because I couldn’t leave things like this. I hoped we would have time to talk later. For now, though, I wanted to continue to put off the conversation.
I pulled off my skirt and button-down shirt and tossed them to the side, revealing my black bikini. I felt Grayson’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t be sure if it was just wishful thinking. It wasn’t long before we had a good game of volleyball going.
“You are making me dive to the most ridiculous places!” he said as he recovered from yet another launch in the sand.
I couldn’t stop laughing. “I’m pretty sure I beat you,” I said. “And now you are absolutely covered in sand. Hilarious. Just how I like my victims.”
“You have to be careful with these sorts of things,” Grayson said.
“Or what?”
“Or the Sand Man is going to get you!”
Grayson was so dorky sometimes, I thought, but I loved that about him. I squealed like a child and ran away from the net as fast as I could. Unfortunately, it wasn’t difficult for Grayson to catch up, and he tossed and turned me in the sand until I was covered, too.
“That’s better,” he said, and then he picked me up and threw me over his shoulders.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I said as he walked down the sand towards the water.
“Oh, I’m not,” he said, as he waded in, then threw me into the deeper part of the ocean.
I retaliated by grabbing his head and dunking him underwater. We wrestled. I tickled him; that was his weak spot. He couldn’t stop crinkling his face in laughter. He grabbed me tightly and held my hands behind my back.
“Be careful,” I teased, “or my bikini might fall off.”
Bold. I was getting bolder.
To my surprise, he didn’t look away in embarrassment but smiled and raised his eyebrows. “I doubt I would be complaining about that.”
Grayson was getting bolder too.
I wanted to kiss him then. My body was aching for his, wanting to lead forward as our legs intertwined beneath the water. But I could feel the eyes of Henry and Brit on us, flitting near the deck, not to mention the random vendors who milled around the house.
“I better shower before this party thing, I guess,” I said suddenly. Then I adjusted my bathing suit and walked out of the water. “A sandy, wet bathing suit is probably not the best look for dinner.”
“I wouldn’t complain,” Grayson said.
I shook my head and turned away with a smile.
CHAPTER 31
I spent a long time in the shower—much too long, in fact—lost in thoughts of Grayson. I felt like I was sixteen again. I savored the memories of when my skin had touched his; the way his fingers felt on my face, when holding my hand; his hands on my legs and on my back as we played in the ocean. Yet I wondered if he still just found me “objectively attractive” and nothing more than that.
I tried to avoid thinking about how I would be leaving the next day. When I thought of it, I cranked the water heat higher and hoped to drown—to sear—those depressing, practical thoughts.
After a quick snack for lunch (since Brit had warned us to come to dinner hungry) and a lazily long time picking out my outfit and applying makeup, I finally came downstairs around five. Dom was still in the bathroom, getting ready.
Dom and I had talked about me leaving the next day. I had told Dom what Grayson had told me about the intruders, and Dom was even more convinced that I was safe in the house. We both planned to talk to Manuel later in the evening, after the party was over, to update him on the events and ultimately decide whether I could still leave as planned. Even though my plan was to leave the next day, my resolve was becoming weaker. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. But I was a stubborn person, so to change my mind would require a reversal that I wasn’t ready to publicly admit.
When I came downstairs, I was alone. The caterers and florists had already left, but the house was stunning. Flowers adorned every table and mantle, and romantic lights and candles were strewn throughout the house. From the kitchen, I smelled delicious food coo
king, but no one was attending to it. A variety of timers were lined up neatly across the counter.
As I was looking for some glasses, Grayson entered the kitchen behind me. I smiled at him but resisted the temptation to hug him.
“I guess everyone else is still getting ready,” I said.
“You look stunning,” he replied and held my gaze. That evening, his eyes were soft. The light from the candles highlighted his angular jaw and gave his face a mosaic of shadows.
“Thank you,” I said and turned from his stare. “Just looking for wine. Got to get this party started.” I started to dance (poorly) but then stopped myself before things became too embarrassing.
Grayson laughed.
I turned away from Grayson, opened a cabinet door, and reached for the shelf that held the wine glasses. I could feel my shirt lift and expose a sliver a skin above my skirt. I sensed his eyes on me, but I didn’t reach down to pull on the shirt fabric. I slowly brought the glasses down and placed them on the counter.
I couldn’t resist looking at him, so I turned and caught his eye. I assumed he would turn away, but that time, he didn’t. Instead, he leaned his long frame against the doorframe, his ankles crossed and hands in tucked in his jean pockets. He was wearing a pair of his perfect jeans—as I liked to think of them—which rested on his hips just right. His eyes locked on me with an intensity that sparked a bubbling terror in my chest.
Overwhelmed, I turned my back to him. I reached for the bottle of red wine on the counter with my right hand and the wine opener lying in the basket by the sink with my left. I needed to say something, to break the tension in the air, to make the moment seem normal.
“Can you?” I mumbled while I glanced over my shoulder and held up the corkscrew.
Before I could process what was happening, he was behind me. I could feel his breath on my hair as he reached around me..
“Wait,” he murmured. My breath caught in my throat as he took the items from my hands and placed them on the counter. My back was still to him as I felt his body touch mine, as his chest pressed into my back. This wasn’t like when we were dancing or holding hands on our walk or roughhousing on the beach. After taking a moment to push my hair away from my left shoulder, he put his hands on my hips, leaned over, and grazed my neck with his lips.