And suddenly, in the back of my mind, Meghan’s words echo, what she told me to write in that letter:
Tell him you don’t love him.
I did.
It broke him.
But it didn’t send him back to her.
It caged me closer to him.
My Grayson wasn’t this dark before.
I don’t know how to fix this.
Chapter 44
Grayson
I love that woman.
Stupid Charlotte. My girl.
But that look in her eyes... She must not like the cuffs. Or the collar. Or maybe the bedroom.
“This is the room I fucked you in,” I remind her.
She likes sentimental shit like that.
But she only blinks.
Yep, she’s unhappy.
Then, she whines, “What about Atticus? Wilbur? What about my job, Grayson? You’re not thinking clearly!”
Damn. She still worries too much.
“Nothinking. I took care of everything,” I reply, stern.
“Well, what about Meghan and—”
Click.
“Ow! Stop that!” She cowers, holding her neck.
I click the remote again.
For fun.
“Grayson!” she cries and folds to her knees.
I point at her, admiring the view. “Ilovethat. On your knees. Now put your hands together. Pray to me.”
She balks, then scowls.
Oh.
That attitude.
