Instead of going into the Playhouse, Gray escorts me around the side. “It’s an outdoor production.” Gray places his palm on my lower back, guiding me in front of him. The warmth of his hands sends a flurry of tingles shooting up my spine. It nestles perfectly above my behind, and I kind of like his hand there.
Walking around the side, it’s like an amphitheatre. Glory waves from the stage, then points to two seats near the front.
“Camomile, how lovely to see you, my dear.” Gray’s mother stands to greet me, wrapping me in a motherly embrace.
“It’s nice to see you too, Mrs Brewdy.”
“Sit down dear, tell me all about what you’ve been up to. Grayson never told me you were in town.” She frowns at Gray, then places her hand on mine. “I’m sorry about your great-aunt, dear.”
“Thank you and thank you for taking care of everything. Dad and I appreciate that.”
“No bother. Betty was like family. How is your dad? I know your Mother’s passing was hard on him.”
“Dad’s doing great now. He actually has a companion.” Ugh, I hate the word companion, but I can’t seem to call her dad’s girlfriend. It’s hard to see him with anyone else other than Mum. My throat closes up, making it difficult to breathe.
“That’s nice, dear.” Mrs Brewdy pats my hand. I turn to Gray, unable to get any words out as memories of my mum suffocate me. Losing her left a void in my chest that physically hurts, even after all this time, which is why I never came back here. The memories are too painful. I couldn’t face Aunt Betty’s funeral, especially alone. I could’ve told my boss to shove it and come out regardless, but my work was a welcomed excuse.
Gray leans close, tucking my blonde hair over my shoulder, enveloping me in his cinnamon scent. “You okay, flower?”
Hearing him call me that again after all these years makes my heart flutter. I relax my shoulders, memories of my mum are replaced with memories of him. I nod my head, settling against him as the production starts.
“The course of true love never did run smooth,” the character Lysander says. My eyes flick to Gray. He glances my way with a heart-fluttering smile lifting the corner of his mouth. I shuffle in my seat between him and his mother. His sister helping backstage with the crew.
A warmth washes over me. It’s been a long time since family surrounded me. Dad doesn’t live in London so I don’t get to see him very often, which is good because seeing him with his companion, however nice she is, still pains me. Gray and his family have always felt like a second home. I know Gray sees me as a sister, or he did ten years ago, but the way he looks at me now is far from sisterly.
Hermia walks across the stage in her pink floaty dress. “I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. The more I hate, the more he follows me.”
The same could be said for Gray. His leg nestles next to mine, sending a flurry of goosebumps across my thigh. With his proximity, the words being spoken on stage resonate deep in my heart. The harder I push him away, the more he clings for me to stay. Our past has always lingered in my mind and now that we've reconnected, I don't know if I’ll be able to leave him completely.
The breeze picks up, causing a shiver. It’s the coolest I’ve been since I arrived on this side of the Atlantic. I’m not complaining. I’d sooner be cool than sizzling like a sausage on a barbecue.
“I told you it would get nippy,” Gray whispers, staring at my chest while pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.
I glance down at my pebbled nipples under the thin cotton of my dress and suck in a breath, then cross my arms over my chest, but that only pushes my boobs up, accentuating my cleavage.
A silent chuckle causes Gray’s shoulders to shake next to mine, and I swat his chest.
“Keep your eyes on the production,” I whisper-yell, then realise his mother is at the side of me. Sinking further into the flimsy folding chair, I cringe at the creaking sound it makes, sounding like it’s going to give way at any moment under the weight of my ass. I pray the seat holds it together until the end of the play.
Gray chuckles again at the side of me as I rub my arms to take off the chill. “Here.” He pulls the zip up jacket from the back of his chair and holds it out for me to slip my arm in.
“Thanks.” I slide in my other arm and pull it across my chest, but it won’t fasten. My nips are still sticking out like two buttons begging to be pressed.
Mrs Brewdy smiles at our interaction and her son being a gentleman offering me his jacket. But the way Gray was looking at my breasts, he’s no gentleman.
On the walk home, it’s quiet. The lapping of the ocean sounds in the distance. I hold Gray’s jacket over one boob as my heels clink on the pavement. “It’s so peaceful this time of night.”
Gray shoves his hands in his pocket. “It would be if you didn’t have those noisy shoes.”
“You know, if you’ve nothing nice to say, then say nothing at all.” I walk a little faster and clink my heels a little louder.
He matches my fast walk with ease. A smirk etched on his face. “Nice dress.” His eyes land on my cleavage.
A nervous giggle escapes. Having Gray’s eyes on me—especially on my chest—causes a tingle in my centre, but I can’t flirt back. I have to remind myself I’m leaving in a few weeks.
“I’ve missed that. You should laugh more often. It suits you.”
Do I really not laugh much? I guess not. It feels good. "I've missed it too. I don't get out much these days."
