Chapter Eighteen
Demir
I flipped the veggie omelet in the pan, then tossed on a little salt and pepper. The twenty or thirty minutes we caught to just talk every morning might not have been much, but the more days Grayson stuck around, the more I savored every minute of it.
Grayson sat at the counter in a T-shirt and rested his hand in Marco’s. Marco had selected a single gray nail polish from his large collection, and he carefully swiped the brush across each of Grayson’s fingernails as I prepared breakfast.
“Oh, I don’t know…” Grayson said. He was in a plain T-shirt, and his hair was still damp from the shower. “Won’t people think I’m trying to be flashy?”
Marco laughed warmly. “Honey, have you seen your own smile? You’re flashy whether you like it or not. Trust me, a man in nail polish is very sexy. And you work for yourself! Take advantage of the dress code.”
I laughed as I deposited the plates on the table. “A man in nail polish is very sexy,” I agreed. “Or two.”
Grayson smiled, but his eyes looked tired. “I haven’t had my nails painted in years. My mom used to get so upset when I was young that I didn’t want any pretty things like nail polish or dresses.”
Marco stopped painting for a second, then took Grayson’s hand. “If it’s too much, sweetheart, I can wipe it off, of course.”
Grayson shook his head quickly. “No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll ever want to wear nail polish regularly, but just for this once…” He held his hand in the air, inspecting the polish. “It’s fun to switch it up.”
“Exactly,” Marco said, returning the cap to the bottle. “No harm in trying new things.”
Grayson blew on his nails by curling his fingers against his palm and puffing against them. I smiled to myself, remembering how elegantly Marco always held his hand out, blowing softly and steadily against his new manicure.
Grayson could definitely pull off the look, but I knew he was much closer to me at heart and more likely to select a plain button-up than a sparkly top, no matter the occasion.
“Speaking of trying new things,” Grayson said cautiously, “I should probably be getting back to my apartment soon.”
“Busy workday?” Marco asked, piercing a bit of omelet with his fork.
Grayson shook his head quickly. “To sleep, I mean. You’ve both been so sweet and welcoming, and it’s made all the difference for me, but I don’t want to overextend my stay.”
My heart jumped. I knew Grayson would be heading home sooner or later, but I still hated the idea. Whatever worries we had about not fitting him into our life had all faded away with the evenings and mornings we shared together.
As I sipped my coffee, I realized I was going to miss not only having him in the loft and seeing Grayson’s sleepy eyes first thing in the morning. Just as much, I was going to miss what it was like to share that time with Marco, and to live in the different world the three of us were able to create together.
“Are you sure?” Marco asked gently. “We’re certainly not asking you to leave.”
“Yes,” I added. “You’re welcome here, Grayson.”
Grayson glanced down at his plate. “That’s really nice, and it means a lot to hear you say it right now. But it wouldn’t be right of me. We’re not even in a committed relationship, and I have some friends I can lean on for support, too.” He shook his head quickly. “Lou and I should get going, and you two can get back to your regular life.”
Marco caught my eye. We’d been waiting to ask Grayson to commit to us for a while now, but once he learned of his mother’s death, we thought the timing was wrong. If it meant the difference between Grayson staying or leaving, though, I wasn’t about to hesitate.
“Stay,” I said firmly. “As long as you’d like.” I took Marco’s hand, then squeezed tight.
“Grayson, sweetheart,” Marco said. “We’d love for you to be our boyfriend.”
Grayson placed his fork down. “You would?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” I said. “We’ve talked about it, and we’re certain. Be our boyfriend, Grayson, and come stay with us anytime you’d like.”
The silence must have only stretched for a few seconds, but it felt like an entire day. Grayson’s lip quivered, but the gray expression that had clouded his face for days lifted, and his eyes sparkled with that light that had first drawn me toward him.
“Okay,” he said. “Yes. I’d love to be your boyfriend.”
Marco laughed warmly, then leaned across the counter, pulling us both into a kiss. Grayson laughed and tried to push his plate aside with us both holding him, and when we finally pulled apart, I saw that I had dribbled some coffee down my shirt.
“Wow, boyfriends,” Grayson said, smiling to himself. “I never would have thought I’d have two boyfriends!”
