“Fuck the meeting.” If there were any furniture in the room, Grayson probably would have picked up a side table and thrown it through a window. “You’re not sorry. You just do whatever you want, damn the consequences.”
“Why don’t you let me make you some dinner as an apology,” I coaxed, wrapping the towel around myself.
“I don’t want you to cook me anything, I don’t want you to show up places you’re not invited, and I want you to stop using my house as a hotel,” he shouted at me.
“Yes, and one of those complaints is fair—I shouldn’t be using your penthouse—but the other two are not fair and are really histrionic. It’s not like I was stalking you when I showed up at that restaurant, and you can’t complain about the cake because you told me to go order dessert. What am I supposed to do when someone offers me a homeless cake to take?”
“Just say no,” he raged.
“Unlike you,” I shrieked back at him, “I don’t waste food. I don’t have a fridge full of food delivered to me every single flipping week that I don’t eat and then throw it all away. That’s weird behavior, and in fact it’s worse than weird. It’s monstrous. You know how many people need food, and you’re wasting thousands of dollars just to dump it in the trash every week.”
Instead of coming at me, Grayson reacted like I’d shot him, holding his hands up defensively.
“And here I thought you were a good person. Guess I was wrong. That was probably just a front for your secret, toxic behaviors. The food waste is probably the tip of that iceberg. You’re just pretending to be a good person to mess with people.It’s like the dessert for those people in the restaurant—you probably wanted me to think you were better than you were.”
The words were mean. I knew they were mean, knew I was reacting out of embarrassment.
Do better, Lexi.
I opened my mouth to apologize but then Grayson said quietly, “I didn’t know it was being thrown away.”
“What?”
He looked hurt and sick.
“I didn’t know the food was being thrown away,” he said rapidly. “I thought it was being donated. I’m … I’m sorry. That’s not what I wanted.”
“Why even buy all that food and bring it here then?” I said in confusion. “Just donate directly to the food bank.”
“I need it here.” His face was drawn.
“Why?” I pressed.
“You don’t understand.” He sounded plaintive.
I walked over to him and rested my hand on his forearm.
Grayson spoke rapidly, like the words had been waiting for the right moment to erupt.
“I—when I was younger we—I—my family was in a bad situation and I—there wasn’t—we didn’t have food a lot of the time. When we did, it wasn’t like lettuce or anything green, and when I was finally able to, I just—I didn’t want tonothave food. I—I’m sorry I didn’t want to waste it. I feel horrible.”
And I felt like a downright witch, and not the good kind.
Grayson turned away from me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling awkward. “That’s horrible but—”
“Just get out.”
“Grayson—”
“I said get out.”
24
GRAYSON
Ijumped in the freezing-cold water with all my clothes on after she left, still draped in that oversize towel with brightly colored princesses on it.
