I’ve gotten so many pieces of Grey over the years, but I’m only now realizing that there’s so many I’ve never seen. And I want all of them. I could stay at this table under the golden twinkling lights listening to Charlie tell me all about a Grey I’ve never met.
We talk for so long that we don’t notice the way the restaurant empties, how we’re the last ones and the workers are shutting down, cleaning around us. Grey snatches the bill before Charlie can and disappears to the front to pay, leaving Charlie and me alone as we quickly down the last of our drinks. I feel pleasantly buzzy, the alcohol fizzing in my veins but not escaping to my head.
Charlie looks at me from across the table, eyes shimmering as he sets down the last dregs of his beer. “I’m glad Grey has you.”
A hot blush steals up into my cheeks, and I can’t help the smile that follows. “I’m glad I have Grey.”
Charlie’s laugh is hearty, infectious. “I can’t say I’m not sad he’s not coming to Maine. It’s a great job, lots of room for advancement, and I’d obviously love having him close again. I’ve never had children of my own, but Grey has always felt like mine.” He smiles, something warm and tender. “But I’m glad he’s found someone here worth staying for. He deserves that.”
The words are beautiful, but they land in my gut like lead. I manage a smile and a “me too,” but I feel sick, the alcohol making a firm departure from where it fizzed in my veins to settle heavily in my stomach, nausea gripping me.
Grey returns then, smiling as he takes us in. “We better get out of here before they lock us in.”
Charlie’s chair scrapes against the wooden planks, sounding overly loud in my ears, and I follow the two of them out, thoughts swirling in my head like vultures around something vulnerable and injured.
I barely hear the goodbyes, although I must put on a good enough show for Grey not to notice my internal turmoil. It’s not until we’re in the car, stopped at a stoplight, red lights bleeding into the cab through the windshield, that he finally looks at me and asks if I’m okay.
I shake myself out of my trance and flash him a smile that must look genuine enough to convince him. “Yeah, just tired.”
He smiles, single dimple popping. “Charlie can talk your ear off.”
I laugh despite myself. “That he can.” Then, rolling my head against the headrest to look at him, his profile a warm red from the stoplight, I say, “You’re a lot like him, you know.”
My eyes track the way his throat bobs, hands flexing on the steering wheel. “I hope so. He’s the best man I know.” This sends another pang through me, a mixture of guilt and fear. Quieter this time, he says, “Most of the time, I’m worried I’m a lot like my dad.”
I sit up in my seat, turning fully to face him. “Why would you ever think that?”
His shoulder lifts in a half-hearted shrug as the light turns green and he pulls forward, heading for my apartment in town. “He likes to be the center of attention. He’s outgoing and usually the life of the party. And his history with women…” He trails off, swallowing again.
“Grey,” I say, willing my voice to sound strong even though my heart is breaking, because I can tell he actually believesthis. “You are nothing like him. Nothing. You might have gotten some of those traits from him, but the way you express them is vastly different. You’re warm and funny and charismatic, and you make everyone feel at ease. You can talk to anyone about anything and they leave feeling like they were the most important person in the world for a few minutes.Youdo that,not him. He makes everyone feel small. You make everyone feel—” My voice chokes. “Enough.”
My monologue has filled the rest of the drive, and by the time I’m done, I realize Grey has pulled into the small parking lot behind my shop. His leather truck seat squeaks as he turns to face me. I think it’s just a trick of the light, but I swear I see silver lining his eyes.
“Thank you,” he finally croaks out, clearing his throat. “Fin, you’re—”
I cut him off with a hand on his forearm, leaning across the console to speak the words directly into his ear. I feel him shiver against me, muscles pulled taut. “You don’t need to compliment me. I told you: just being with you—the real you—makes me feel like magic, like someone special. Like someone’s most important person.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment, and I hope he sees the truth in my eyes.
Finally, I can’t hold back the thought that’s been nagging me since we arrived at dinner. “Why didn’t you tell me about the job in Maine?”
His eyes shutter for a second, and in the dim glow of the streetlamps outside, I see pink creeping into his cheeks. Grey Sutton isembarrassed. Immediately, I want to pull the question back, but he’s already answering it.
Hand on the back of his neck, he says, “I was considering it for a while. I love this town. I love your family. I love…” He trails off, and I have never wanted anyone to finish a sentence more than that one.
“I love so much about my life here,” he continues, “but it’s been…hard too. There are reasons I thought leaving would be better.” He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t need to. I had dinner with those reasons just a few weeks ago. I saw the waybeing around his family makes him miserable, and I wonder if living away from them would make him happier. Freer.
My stomach jolts again, and panic grips me tightly.
“Charlie seems to think it’s a good job, and I trust him. I love him. I thought I should at least give it a chance.” He hasn’t been looking at me, but his eyes fasten on mine now, appearing darker in the dimness of the cab, but still just as mesmerizing. Just as penetrating.
“I have reasons to stay here that are more important than leaving.”
Just like Charlie’s words at dinner, these should make me ecstatic. It’s as close to a confession as I’ve ever gotten from him, but instead, they feel like shrapnel, hitting all my most vulnerable parts.
Because Grey has an opportunity to get out of here, to be happy somewhere else, to shed the parts of himself that are broken and shattered and chase the ones that are vibrant and healing. But he’s staying. Because ofme.
He’s staying because of someone who has never been able to hold on to anyone, whose heart is slippery, easily dropped and disposed of. He’s staying for me, and I’m not sure he won’t end up regretting it.
