Chapter Eight
Harry
The morning after I take Grace on the helicopter ride, I pace around my office like I’m a man in solitary isolation and the first thing I’m going to do after I get out is find a woman and ravage her, pluck all the sweetest places in her body and make her moan and twitch with the release.
But that’s not right.
It’s not just that I want to finda woman.
It’s Grace. She’s the one who’s set up camp in my mind. And there’s no sign that she’s leaving anytime soon.
I roll my shoulders and crack my neck from side to side. My eyelids try to fall closed, but I know that if I let them, sleep wouldn’t come. I barely slept at all last night, rolling from one side of the bed to the other, the sheets clinging to my sweaty, bare chest.
I walk across the dim-lighted office to the desk, picking up my cellphone and holding my finger against the fingerprint-unlock system. Wandering over to the window, I glance out at the fitness complex, the grass a shadowed carmine color as the sun slowly rises.
I look down at my phone and navigate to the horoscope website.
Ever since Grace returned to my life, this morning ritual has become a mainstay showing no sign of disappearing.
It’s like she’s changing me, some way-too-honest part of my mind whispers.
I scroll to my horoscope page and read today’s entry.It’s time to be honest with yourself. You have been ignoring the truth for far too long. There are revelations waiting to be acted upon, if you’ve got the patience to see them. Follow your heart. Embrace honesty.
I switch off the screen and bring the phone to my head, resting my forehead against the edge so that it bites against my skin.
Embrace motherfucking honesty.
I return to my desk and drop my phone, picking up the fresh tennis ball.
I had to scrounge up a new one last night after I crushed the last one. I was pacing around, thinking about Grace, when my hand clenched into a fist that forced the rubber inward, collapsing on itself.
That was pretty fitting, I thought, because the more I clutch onto this plan to ghost the hell out of Grace, the higher the chances I’m going to end up like the ball.
I drop into my desk chair and toss it at the wall, with eachthudletting the horoscope bounce around my mind.
Embrace honesty.
If I delve deep into my chest, pry open my damn ribcage and actually assess my emotions, I guess the honest thing is that I want to court Grace. I laugh grimly.
Court. Like we’re in some regency drama.
But it’s the truth.
The only sour point about yesterday was that I didn’t grab her and kiss her. But when she leaned away from me in the car, I welcomed it as a blessing.
She was reeling me in too deeply. Terror hammered through my body at the thought that I wasn’t leading things. No,shewas leadingme.
“Fuck it,” I snap, letting the ball bounce on the wall behind me and then roll away on the floor, making a hollow noise as it hits the wooden floorboards.
I grab my cellphone and call Nick, putting it on loudspeaker and dropping down into a tight squat. My legs are the only part of my body I haven’t decimated this morning. I’ve already used the dumbbells every way I can think of, all the muscles in my upper body pounding dully.
“Mate?” Nick says, sounding more alert than the time might suggest.
“Did I wake you?” I ask.
He chuckles lightly. “Nah, boss. I just got off the phone with my little bro. It’s one in the morning over there and he’s completely wankered, so decided it’d be a good time to ring me. What’s up?”
“I need a personal matter attended to,” I mutter, realizing only after I’ve said it that I reallydosound like I’m going for the Most Regency Arsehole of the Year award.
