There was no way Hudson Gray had just asked me to give him time to change my mind onour marriage. Not when he was the epitome of a bachelor. Not when every woman who passed his line of sight was his next target—a fact Iknewbecause I’d been forced to witness him in action for over a decade.
There was no unseeing that. No unhearing it.
It didn’t matter what he’d said this morning or this afternoon. It didn’t matter that I’d replayed those words a hundred times already, or that my traitorous heart wanted to believe?—
A bitter sound bled from me when the only obvious explanation for Gray’s plea smacked me in the face. “Briggs put you up to this,” I whispered, suddenly so sure that Chloe had seen too much outside the coffee shop and then told Lainey, who’d told our boss.
“Except, he didn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me,” I snapped as embarrassment surged, all that confusion, longing, and doubt I’d been wrapped up in all day making for a volatile storm inside me.
But where I needed the safety of my anger, my throat had gone tight. Where I needed my fortifying armor, it felt like I was crumbling.
Gray’s brows drew together. “Monroe?—”
“Hejustgave me two weeks off in hopes I’d change my mind about leaving, and now you’re here, trying to get me to agree to double that?”
Pale green eyes widened with something closely resembling disbelief and betrayal as a muscle feathered in Gray’s jaw. “That isn’t what’s happening,” he assured me, forcing a condescending sound from my lungs that was far too weak.
“You told me—youtold me—you’d been on your way to see Briggs today.” One of my brows lifted in challenge. “You can’t tell me now that the two of you didn’t come up with this in an attempt to keep me here longer.”
His mouth parted only to quickly shut as if he’d just barely managed to hold back whatever he’d been about to say. Drawing in a slow breath, he released it with the words, “Mallory, please.”
My heart tripped over itself and my stomach felt all light and fuzzy at the two simple words.
I wanted to hate him for it.
“That isn’t a denial,” I finally said through clenched teeth.
“You don’t believe anything I say anymore anyway,” he shot back, a breath of a laugh leaving him. “I can tell you that, yes, I talked to Briggs today. And, yes, it was about you. But, considering his reminder that thetwo of uswere still on desks, he never once mentioned that he gave you two weeks off.
“Don’t make any decisions right now,” he went on, his voice soft and pleading. “Just give us a month—or at least the same time you’re giving Briggs. Give us these two weeks.”
Tension mounted and swirled as we studied each other before I finally asked, “And what do you think these two weeks will change?”
Those clear green eyes darkened with a determined heat that only served to make my heart beat harder. But when Gray spoke, his voice was soft and resigned. “We’ll see.”
Once we finished eating, Gray had gathered up the trash and was standing at the entrance of the kitchen when he asked, “Can you tell me about it?”
I looked over to see him studying the wall there. More specifically: the paintings on the wall.
“What do you mean?” I asked warily, only then realizing that I’d forgotten he was in my space.
I wasn’t sure how one encounter had made me forget that, but it had.
Then again, maybe it was just because it was Gray.
“How long have you been painting?” he asked before blindly pointing toward the nook I was still sitting in. “And what’s the connection betweenthisandthat?”
I couldn’t see what he was looking at, but I doubted they matched in any way. “There isn’t one.” When he glanced over his shoulder with a raised brow, I sighed and answered, “I’ve painted for as long as I can remember. It was the only thing I did apart from my dad and brothers. It was what I did with my mom.”
Concern lined his eyes as he nodded in understanding. “Why were you keeping this from me?”
A scoff built in my chest because the idea of anyone knowing—even Gray—was absurd. “I would think that’s obvious.”
He made a face to let me know it wasn’t. “This is incredible,” he said when I didn’t explain. “You’reincredible. But why would you keep it fromme?” he asked again, the question morepointed. More meaningful. “You’ve always shared everything with me.”
I shifted uncomfortably at the praise, and even more at the accusation and hurt in his words. My stare fell to the table as I thought of what to say, if anything.
