Things at work are great. Felicity has backed off, all of our projects are on target, and I’m back in my comfort zone.
At least I should feel that this is my comfort zone.
But I’m in love for the first time in my life and the woman who has inspired that is in Honeysuckle Harbor, the place where I have felt more comfortable, more myself in years. And I am very aware of the ticking clock that is marching ever closer to the day she gets on a plane and goes to Colombia.
I was hoping I could just survive ’til that point. If I could stay in New York, until Caroline was gone, I could return to Honeysuckle Harbor, find a house where I could finally put down roots, and raise Evelyn close to my family and my friends.
Because yes, this trip back to New York has shown me that my true friends are in Honeysuckle Harbor. My friends here in New York have called to ask me to go to basketball games, to go out for dinner, and I’ve even had an invitation to the theater.
All things that I did before and enjoyed with people I saw often and truly liked.
But now none of that sounds as good as a bonfire on the beach with Cas and James and Harrison and Ford and everyone else.
Or even just a beer on the balcony of our building, the sounds of downtown Honeysuckle Harbor drifting up on the salt-tinged evening air.
I want to be back there so much I ache with it.
And I want Caroline so much that it’s physically painful.
“Oh, and I embezzled seven million dollars and slept with the entire IT department, all seventeen of them. At the same time.”
I focus on Andrea, who is seated across my desk from me.
She’s been going over my emails for the past few minutes and I realize I have zoned out.
“Who is that email from?" I ask.
“No email. That was me. Confessing.”
“That you’ve been embezzling from the company and having orgies?"
She nods. “Finally, you’ve listened to something I said.”
I sigh. Honestly, if someone wanted to embezzle from the company, Andrea would probably be the best bet for pulling it off. And I wouldn’t even be that angry. She’s probably earned at least seven million for putting up with extra bullshit from me over the years.
“I’m sorry. I’m a little distracted.”
“No shit. I wonder why that is.”
I frown. “There is no way you know what that’s about. You know me well, but you can’t read my mind.”
“Actually, I think I can, but I don’t need to read your mind to know what this is about, Grayson.”
I lean forward, linking my fingers on top of my desk and regard her across the wide stretch of polished wood. “Enlighten me.”
“You’re in love with Caroline and you broke up.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because the last time you were in town, she was here with you and I’ve never seen you happier. This time she’s not with you and you’re fucking miserable. And distracted. Two things you never are.”
"I’m widely regarded as a grumpy asshole.”
“Grumpy and asshole are not synonymous with miserable. I think you’ve always kind of enjoyed being a grumpy asshole, actually. You’re sad, Grayson,” she tells me, her expression almost pathetic. “You miss her. So I have to ask why you’re here without her.”
“It’s complicated.”
Then she has the audacity to laugh. “Complicated? You’re a grown ass man with more money than you could ever spend. What’s complicated that you can’t solve?"
