A laugh left him, low and wheezy and pained, as he opened my front door and turned to face me. “I remember nothing from that night. But if it’s a question of who came up with the idea?” His stare fell over my face before lifting to mine. “Yeah, Princess; I did that.”
Taking one step over the threshold, he rocked back toward me, wavering a few seconds before he mumbled, “Youwouldbe breaking up our team at Shadow...” Those eyes shifted back to me. “But that wasn’t the team I was talking about.”
My brow furrowed for all of one second before my heart stuttered, then took off.
“The guy thinks of y’all as your own, separate team within ours.”
Before I had the chance to fully wrap my head around Briggs’ words from that morning, and what they meant for the conversation I’d just had, Gray said, “I’ll be back in the morning,” and left my condo, leaving me standing there, utterly speechless.
My mind raced as I tried dissecting everything Gray said, from early this morning, until he’d left this evening. But by the time I finally crawled into bed, I was more confused than before.
Because I knew Gray. He would probably propose to a mannequin if he allowed himself to get drunk enough. I’d justbeen sure I was the idiot who’d been too in love with him to sayno.
But this? What he was saying? Those were confessions I’d craved but had known would never pass his lips. Not in a serious way, at least.
And yet . . .
And yet.
Iopened my front door before Gray could knock late the next morning, my emotions firmly in the middle of suspicion and disbelief after a long night of warring over everything until I’d convinced myself I’d either taken every word the wrong way, or Gray was just doing Gray-ish, charming things because he thought it was the only way to keep his friend. Yet I’d still been irrationally eager to see the man I’d seen almost every day for over a decade.
Being a woman was the worst.
Honestly, what was the purpose of so many emotions, and minds that obsessed over and overanalyzed the smallest details until we doubted everything we knew? It was exhausting.
Gray’s expression lit with amusement, as if he’d known I wouldn’t let him get to the door first, before abruptly falling when his stare dipped over me. “You’re not ready.”
I glanced at myself, trying to see what he’d just seen, before asking, “What do you mean?”
“That’s what you were wearing last night,” he said as if stating something obvious.
Except, it wasn’t, because I hadn’t been wearing this last night. Granted, it had been a scarily similar outfit, considering my wardrobe didn’t really have a lot of variety. A third of it was workout sets. A third was leggings and oversized shirts. And the other third was jeans, tactical pants, and Shadow Industry shirts.
I didn’t count the one form-fitting suit I owned for when our security details sent us to black tie events.
I also wasn’t counting the two dresses I’d forced Chloe to pick out for me yesterday, since they’d clearly been a mistake and needed to meet my trash can.
“I’ve worked out, showered, and changed multiple times since last night,” I finally told him with a narrowed glare, “but thanks for making me feel like I need to change outfits two days in a row now. Also, your text said, ‘I’m on my way. Be ready.’” I held out a hand. “I’m clearly ready for you to be here.”
Gray’s lips parted in a way that showed he was about to correct me, but he just closed them with a sigh and subtly shook his head as he reached out. Grasping the doorknob, he began shutting the door, leaving us on opposite sides of it.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Just...give me a second,” he begged, but it was the frustration and amusement that filled his hushed words that finally prompted me to release my own grip on the door.
What on earth?
I stared at the surface of my door for over a minute. Not realizing until sometime after I’d started gripping at my chest that each strangled beat of my heart had the ache there growing. With a pained exhale, I turned and started toward my room just as a knock sounded.
Glancing back at the door, I hesitated, wondering what the point was of humoring him—humoring whatever this was—when each encounter only hurt me more.
And yet, I was the masochist who went back to the pain again and again.
Because I was suddenly there, opening the door.
The scowl I’d fixed on my face fell when Gray held out an iced matcha latte like a peace offering.
“Good morning,” he began in a low tone when my stare just darted between him and the green drink. “You look perfect. When I saidbe readyI meantto leave. So, get some shoes on, and let’s head out.”
