Page 25 of Paths
I find a half-empty bottle of white wine sitting with all kinds of food I’d never want in my refrigerator or purchase to begin with. After looking through three cabinets, I find a wine glass and fill it full. This place is so small, it wouldn’t be hard to find anything in here.
When I turn back, I don’t hand her the glass, but tag her hand to pull her the short distance to the small couch.
“What are you doing?” she asks, but I ignore her.
I sit first and pull her down next to me before handing over her drink. Her couch might as well be a two-seater, so it works out well for me to pull her tight to my side.
“There.” I grab the remote before putting my good arm around her and scoot down in the cushions. When I start to flip through the channels, I sense how stiff she is next to me. “Drink up, Maya. You’ll feel better.”
When she doesn’t say anything, I look over. Her face is makeup-free and her golden hair is starting to dry. I’m getting used to having her close and have no desire to give that up, but right now her beautiful face is confused as she clutches her wine in both hands.
“What?” I ask.
“I told you, you don’t have to stay. I already feel bad you had to endure all that. I’ll figure out what to do about Weston, you can go.”
I narrow my eyes before looking back to the TV and continue flipping channels. I don’t look at her when I ask, “Tell me how you’re going to take care of that guy.”
She tries to shift to get up, but I hold her tight. “I just need to think it over—”
“You can think it over tomorrow,” I interrupt and pull her farther down into the couch with me. “What do you like to watch?”
“Grady—”
“Maya.” I have to speak over her to get her attention, but she finally shuts her mouth when I turn her to me. I lower my voice and explain one more time. “Drink your wine. Relax. Don’t think about that asshole, even though I’m sure that’ll be hard to do. He thinks I’m here with you, so this is where I’m gonna be. Now, what do you like to watch?”
Maybe she finally understands I’m serious, because she sighs. “The Food Network.”
I tip my head questioningly. “You like to cook?”
“Yes.”
I turn back to the TV and pull up the guide to find her channel. When I feel her relax against my side, I mutter, “Now that I know you like to cook, I may never leave.”
When I find her channel and we start watching some woman stir the contents of a huge pot, I hear her call for me. “Grady?”
“Yeah?” I kick up my feet and cross one ankle over the other on her old coffee table.
“You’re being weird,” she states before taking a sip of her wine.
“How’s that?”
She tries to face me even though we’re plastered side-to-side on her tiny sofa. “Ever since you started talking to me, you’ve either been frustrated with me or asking me a million questions. This mellow-nice-guy act is kind of freaking me out.”
I smirk. “I guess we’re even then, because since you started speaking to me, you’ve been nothing but flustered—at least when you’re not pushing vegetables on me—or inflicting pain.”
“You’re not going to ask me anything about Weston? He’s a jealous, territorial man. I practically threw you under the bus by kissing you and pretending you’re something you’re not.”
I turn, looking straight into her light blue, worry-filled eyes, and whisper. “Are you engaged to that guy?”
Her answer comes quick and meaningful. “No.”
I lean in as close as I can get and continue whispering, “Do you want to be?”
Her forehead creases and she gives her head a little shake. “I hate him.”
I could tell that was the case, but even so, it feels good for her to show how much she means it. I didn’t think she’d be a woman to yank my chain.
Since she’s close and I want her skin on mine again, I lean in the rest of the way and put my lips to her forehead. “Then that’s good enough for me. You’re upset, I don’t want to add to that. We’ll talk about it tomorrow after you’ve slept.”
