Hailing a cab in New York at six forty-five in the morning was surprisingly easy. Thank God for the city that never sleeps. Once I was secured in the back seat and on the way to LaGuardia, I pulled out my phone and watched the news. CiCilia was right. It was awful. How I’d managed to keep the accident a secret all these years was beyond me. Every day for the past five years I’d worried that today would be the day. Well, today was the day and the biggest part of me felt… relief. Next to that I just felt sad, sad and heartbroken.
I should have told Grant when I had the chance
. I should have done a lot of things while I had the chance. As I dropped my head back against the headrest and stared at the cigarette burns on the ceiling, I thought about how disappointed Grant was going to be. Tears burned the backs of my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Right as we hit the airport phone calls started pouring in. The first was from CiCilia. I sent it to voicemail. Lord knows I would have plenty of time to talk to her once I was home. The second was from my mother. I contemplated answering it, but didn’t know what to say. The third and fourth were from numbers I’d never seen before. In the end I wasn’t sure what to say to anyone, so I just turned off my phone all together. As luck would have it there was a non-stop flight to Dallas leaving at nine. I passed by several gates on the way to mine. Each had its own TV and all were turned to the news. Every time my face appeared on the screen I wanted to vomit. Once I reached my gate I found a corner as far away from a television as possible and sat down. I tried not to think about Grant, but found myself wondering,
Is he awake yet? If so, does he know? Does he hate me? How can he not?
When they called my section to board, I didn’t want to go. I knew that leaving was the right thing to do, but my heart refused to cooperate. My heart wanted Grant. When they called for final boarding I had no choice but to go. As I stared out the tiny airplane window, I thought,
what an amazing dream this turned out to be
.
Too bad it has to end.
* * *
Two days later
My life has
completely imploded.
“Mallory, are you listening to me?”
“Yes, CiCi, I hear you.”
“You have to go back.”
“I can’t go back and you know it.”
“It’s only a matter of time before they terminate the contract. That can’t happen,” CiCi hissed. I stared down at the phone and contemplated hanging up on her, but knew she would just call me back.
The past three days had been awful. I’d waited until I got home from the airport to turn on my phone. It took me forever to wade through the messages. Most of the calls were from Grant, CiCi and my mom. I was surprised to have also received calls from Nash and Hank. I was fine until I listened to the voicemails. Grant wanted me to come back. He said he understood why I ran, we needed to talk and everything was going to be okay. He was lying. I could hear it in his voice and, if I went back, I would see it in his eyes – disappointment, or even worse, disgust.
Thanks, but No Thanks
. Nash told me in no uncertain terms to get back to them and my head out of my ass. Hank said he was giving me a few days to lick my wounds…then he was coming to get me. Walking away was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. Going back wasn’t an option. However, moving on was, and the very best way for me to move on was to get as far away from Grant as humanly possible, which is exactly why I asked CiCi to put me on a new assignment. She flipped out, of course. She was hell-bent on me finishing my current assignment. I told her she was welcome to finish out the contract for me, but I wasn’t going back. It wasn’t my fault she was stuck with the tennis player and couldn’t be here in person to knock some sense into me. When I explained the entire thing wasn’t real and Grant wasn’t actually an addict, she wouldn’t listen. When I told her I’d slept with my client and was in love with him, and she still told me to go back, I was blown away. I was also hurt. Did she know what she was asking me to do? Did she care that my heart was broken? No, she was more worried about the company. Truth be told, I was glad she wasn’t here. It was bad enough dealing with my phone, which had rung twenty-four-seven since I’d been home. I had to pick and choose when to turn the damn thing on. I shut it off yesterday at ten A.M. and didn’t turn it back on until eight last night. Reporters, as well as people I hadn’t spoken to in years, were hounding me. I didn’t dare turn on the television for fear of what I would find. The only calls I would return were CiCilia and my mom’s. My mom only wanted what was best for me. Clearly CiCi did not.
“I’m not going back,” I repeated for the thousandth time.
“Mallory!” she exclaimed in frustration.
“Do you hear yourself? I’m in love with my client. I slept with my client. My heart is in a million pieces!” I loudly responded.
“And I’m truly sorry for that. This is a business and you are my employee. Shit happens. You’re under a contract, Mal, and if Happenstance chooses to terminate it based on your breach, we will have to pay. According to my calculations, it will cost us approximately one point two million dollars for you to break this contract. Do you have that kind of money sitting around? I sure as hell don’t and this company sure as hell doesn’t. Look, I know you’re heartbroken. I get it, but you’re not looking at the big picture here. This contract…this money will provide us overhead for the next year, if not longer. We need it.” The only way to get her off the phone was to tell her I’d consider it.
Grant called multiple times a day and left messages. Some were short, some were long, but all were asking me to please talk to him. I couldn’t. I knew I was being ridiculous, but at the end of the day talking to him wasn’t going to change anything. He was a Rock Star and I was a drug counselor. We didn’t make sense. I was barely holding on by a thread and I knew if I spoke with him it would just tip me over the edge. So, instead of facing it head on, I hunkered down in my apartment like a coward, refused to answer the door or my phone and hoped it would all go away.
It didn’t go away. It only got worse.
One week to the day after my return home, I was parked on my sofa watching back to back episodes of The Housewives of I forget which state when my doorbell rang. As usual, I ignored it and cranked up the volume. It rang three more times before the person finally gave up. At least, I thought they’d given up, but then I heard my doorknob rattle and wondered,
what in the world?
After a moment of silence, I figured they’d officially given up and gone away. Then the door suddenly swung open and in walked Grant.
“That was way too easy,” he announced. A million thoughts swirled through my head. Every last one of them was superseded by panic. Grant was standing in my house and I looked like something dead the cat dragged home.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
He slowly took in my wet hair, my old t-shirt and ragtag shorts before scanning the room. I knew what he saw. He saw a mess because I was a mess, a total and complete mess. When his eyes came back to me they softened and he said, “Babe.”
“What are you doing here?” I squeaked, as if it wasn’t obvious.
He got this look in his eyes that I knew all too well. It was the I’m-more-stubborn-than-you are look. Little did he know, I’d invented that look and was well versed in its multitude of meanings. “Have you watched the news today?” he asked. I glared defiantly at him and he smiled.
The nerve of him
. “If so, then I assume you’ve seen the latest interview with Irene Jacobs?”
“What?” I gasped. Irene Jacobs was the woman I almost killed five years ago – my punisher and my savior – the reason I ran.
As I stood there gawking, Grant nonchalantly strolled over to my coffee table and snagged the changer. After turning on the television, he took a seat and patted the cushion next to him. “Sit,” he said. Completely shocked by the fact that he was in my house, I didn’t even think to argue. I sat while he hunted for the correct channel. When Irene’s face popped onto the screen, I closed my eyes. It had been three years since I’d seen her. “Watch,” he commanded. I opened my eyes and watched the woman I’d almost killed tell the world what an amazing person I’d become. She told how I’d paid for her and both of her daughter’s hospital bills. She then explained how I’d gone to rehab to get my life back together, and how I’d paid for her physical therapy and doctor bills for the past five years. She even went so far as to tell how I sent the family Christmas and birthday presents each year. She said she was proud I’d turned my life around. Watching it was both awful and wonderful at the same time, awful because it brought that horrible time in my life back to the surface and wonderful because she’d clearly forgiven me. When the interview was over Grant flipped off the T.V. and settled his amber eyes on me.
All I could think was how much I’d missed him this past week. I nodded at the television. “That was you, wasn’t it?”
“No, babe, that was all you,” he replied. Tears welled in my eyes. I’d barely held myself together this past week. I hadn’t slept more than two hours at a time and was both emotionally and physically exhausted. Grant, suddenly here in my home, sitting next to me – it was too much. Clearly I was losing this fight. I dropped my eyes to my lap and blinked back the tears. “Look at me,” he said. Tilting my head up, I gave him my eyes. Kindness, compassion and love stared back at me and I didn’t deserve any of it. Not one damn bit.
It took a lot for me to tell him what I was thinking, but somehow managed to get it out. “I wanted to tell you the truth, but I was so scared.”
“You shouldn’t have run,” he scolded.
“I didn’t know what else to do. So much was happening and –”
“I’m crazy in love with you. If anything this only makes me love you more, Mallory Scott,” he spoke over me.
“What?” I gasped. Surely he didn’t say what I thought he just said.
He took my hand and slowly entwined our fingers together. Then he looked me straight in the eyes and repeated, “I’m crazy in love with you. What happened to you was truly awful, but it’s over now.” Wiping my tears with his free hand, he whispered, “She forgave you a long time ago. It’s time you forgive yourself, and for fuck’s sake, stop running.”
“I don’t know how,” I confessed. Then I burst into a sobbing mess of tears.
The next thing I knew I was on Grant’s lap and his arms were around me. As he kissed the side of my head and whispered how much he loved me and how brave I was, I cried. I cried for the girl who’d lost everything. I cried for the people I’d hurt along the way. Most of all I cried for the love I’d almost let pass me by. The entire time I cried Grant held me.
Once I was through the worst of it, he asked, “Feel better?” After a moment’s pause I realized I did feel better. As a matter of fact, I felt better than better, I felt…relieved. All of the skeletons were officially out of the closet. I knew we still had unfinished business to tend to, but the worst was over. As I stared into the eyes of the man I loved, I realized I hadn’t told him how I felt yet.
“I love you,” I blurted. He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to mine and I felt bad for not having told him sooner. “I’m sorry. I should have said it earlier. I wanted to tell you at your house, but I was too chicken.” While doing a pitiful job of explaining, I gently ran my fingers back and forth across his scruffy beard. He grabbed my hand and kissed my fingers. Then he tilted his head and captured my mouth with his. The kiss was soft and slow and I couldn’t believe I had him back. When he dropped his lips to my neck and kissed his way down to my collar bone, I raked my nails through his hair and whispered, “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“Put your hands around my neck,” he commanded. The second my hands were around his neck he lifted me up and asked, “Bedroom?” I thought about Grant seeing my messy as hell bedroom and then thought about this past week and how I never thought I’d see him again.
“Up the stairs and straight back,” I answered. He carried me up the stairs and into my bedroom.
When he reached the foot of my bed, he lay me down, crawled on top of me and cupped my face with his hands. Staring deep into my eyes, he said, “I can’t do this if you’re going to run. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, but this past week was sheer hell without you. I want you in my life and will fight every day to keep you there, but not if you’re going to run. Do you understand?”
His words scored through me and I felt every last one to the depths of my soul. My selfishness burned him. I would make it up to him. If it took me the rest of my life, so be it. “I promise I won’t run again. I can’t promise not to get freaked out every now and then, but I won’t run,” I told him.
His face split into a huge smile that I felt right smack between my legs. “Arms up,” he said. I lifted my arms and he pulled off my t-shirt. His eyes darkened with desire as he took in my bare chest. “God I missed you,” he muttered.
“Me or them?” I glanced down at my breasts.
“Both,” he said with a sexy grin.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I repeated.
His expression turned serious. “I’m not going anywhere, Mallory, and neither are you.” Slowly, he slid down my body. When he reached the foot of the bed, he pulled off my shorts and panties. As he placed both of my legs over his shoulders, the entire lower half of my body spasmed. He lowered his mouth for a taste and I tensed in anticipation. Without warning he dove in. After a week without him, a week where I thought I’d never have him like this again, my orgasm hit fast and hard. While I lay there reveling in the fact that Grant Hardy loved me as much as I loved him, he slid off the bed and began taking off his clothes. One look at his beautiful, hard body and I instantly rallied for round two. This man was mine and I was never letting him go.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, as he crawled his way back up my body.
“That you’re never getting rid of me,” I answered honestly.
A look of surprise followed by one of possession crossed his face as he lined himself up and slowly slid inside. I arched my back to take him deeper and we both groaned at how good it felt. His eyes never left my face as he pulled out and slowly pushed back in “Promise?” he asked.