“I’ll go,” I offered.
“Good call,” my dad said.
“Thank you for lunch, Mom.”
I turned away from the table before either of them could respond. It wasn’t more than a handful of steps to get out of the house and barely more to get to the street. I locked myself in my car and sped away, not even stopping to connect my Bluetooth or unroll my windows until I was already back on the freeway.
A hurricane of emotions swirled in my chest, from relief to letdown, to fear, and the smallest sliver or happiness, of a promise for the future. I had done the hard part. I’d said the words, and I had to believe my parents would come around. I had to mean more to them than just a means to a daughter-in-law and grandkids. There had to be more than that.
I didn’t want to let my head go too far down either of those roads, though, so instead I drove. Once feeling returned to my hands, I cranked up the radio, listening to whatever station Wesley had left playing in the music app on my phone. To my surprise, I knew some of the words to the songs, and the longer I listened, the longer I drove, the better I felt.
I drove for hours, back home and then farther north. All the way to Malibu and back again, zig-zagging through Topanga Canyon and down toward home. I had work in the morning and it was getting close to dinner time, so I stopped to get some takeout and finally checked my phone for messages.
I didn’t necessarily expect my parents to have called, but my heart sank at their silence anyway. There were, however, a smattering of messages from Wesley, asking if I wanted to get dinner, asking if I wanted to spend the night.
I hit the call button, and he answered it on the first ring.
“Did I ask you too many questions?” His laugh was like fireworks, and I closed my eyes, letting my head fall against the steering wheel. “I know it’s easier for your generation to call when the words get hard to read.”
“Hello to you, too,” I said, relieved to be on the receiving end of his tease. “I was driving home from my parents and missed your text, so I’ve already had dinner.”
“Did you already find someone’s bed to sleep in too?” he asked, the unfiltered hope in his voice almost palpable through the speakers.
“Yeah,” I told him, swallowing down as much of the lingering disappointment about my parents as I could manage. “Yours.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Wesley
It took a couple weeks,but Colin and I had finally settled into a schedule that seemed to work for both of us. We split the weekend, so I could still spend some time with Grayson because he hadn’t quite snapped back to his normal self after our brunch on the beach. During the week, I spent more nights at his apartment than he did at mine because it was easier for him to get to work from his place. But every day he forced himself out of bed and into slacks and a collared shirt, the sight of him was an aching reminder that I still needed a job.
Colin let me stay as long as I wanted, but once he closed the door and left for work, I was up and out of bed. I took a quick shower, even though I was out of clean clothes at his place, because I liked the lingering scent of his body wash on my skin. Then I went home to see what Grayson was up to.
When I got to the apartment, he was in the kitchen in his underwear, bent over the stove with his precious little moka pot. At the sound of the door, he gave a little wiggle, but didn’t look my way.
“Up late?” he asked.
I let my backpack fall to the floor. It landed with a loud thud, the week’s worth of dirty clothes testing the durability of the zipper. The noise drew Grayson’s attention, and he turned to look over his shoulder, furiously stirring the sugar and coffee in his mug.
“You didn’t break up, did you?”
“What?” I toed off my shoes. “Why would you ask that?”
He used his elbow to gesture toward my bag, then turned back to the stove to finish making his coffee.
“Do you want one?” he asked.
“Sure.” I sat down at the table and rolled my head around my neck a couple times.
“You’re home early with all your clothes,” he said, bringing me the coffee he’d been making for himself. “But you don’t look sad, so I’m not sure.”
“Just laundry,” I said.
At the stove, Grayson nodded, already making the second round of sugar and coffee whip.
“Do you have plans today?” I asked, taking a small drink to test the temperature.
“I have a client showing in an hour, but nothing else.” Grayson came into the dining room and sat across from me, his whole body on display.
