The Design(68)

I nodded and offered him a solemn smile. I couldn’t answer his questions about what I’d do because I didn’t know the answers myself, so I just stayed quiet.

“Come here,” he said, reaching his hand out to catch the tips of my fingers. A current of lust shot through me as our skin touched. It’d been the worst day I’d had in a very long time, but I had Grayson all to myself now and he looked so sweet and tired. I let him pull me down and then I straddled his hips with my legs. I hadn’t changed out of my work clothes yet so my twist-tie dress slipped up my thighs with the help of Grayson’s fingers brushing it higher and higher. His designer slacks rubbed against the back of my legs, tickling my skin.

“A boyfriend ought to make his girlfriend feel better after a long day.” He spoke in whispers as one hand slipped beneath my dress. His other hand twisted my hair into a long rope and then he tugged gently, once, so that I was forced to tip my head back or suffer a shock of pain to my neck.

His lips found the juncture between my chin and neck, the sensitive little groove that when he kissed, shot goose bumps down my spine.

“I can’t believe you fired me today,” I spoke.

“I can’t believe you broke into my office,” he said.

I shook my head, recalling the messages I’d heard on his answering machine. It was the perfect opportunity to bring them up and yet I couldn’t make myself do it.

“I really didn’t want to break into your office. I’m so sorry I did,” I hummed, letting my fingers slide down his chest.

For the next hour Grayson and I made each other forget the horrors of the day. He kissed away my embarrassment and I brushed away his disappointment. Eventually, he picked me up and carried me into my room, but as we lay in bed later that night, I knew that things weren’t cleared up. The chaos of the day had distracted me momentarily, but there was still so much I had to ask him about. A part of me knew that once I brought up the messages, we wouldn’t be able to get back to this happy place—the place before I left for Paris and before he told me something I wouldn’t be able to forgive.





Chapter TwentyNine


Later that night, I stared up at my ceiling, which was cast in shadows from the light streaming through the open blinds. A lone street lamp outside produced more light than I thought possible, but it wasn’t the reason I lay awake. Grayson slept beside me, wrapped around me like a coiled snake, snoring gently and keeping me safe and warm. He seemed perfectly content, but I was still hanging in limbo, worried about what the next day would bring. We’d yet to discuss his voicemail messages, but I knew I’d have to bring them up tomorrow morning.

Knowing I wouldn’t find sleep anytime soon, I extracted myself from Grayson’s arms and pushed off my bed in search of something to distract me from another hour of tossing and turning. My options were limited since I couldn’t leave my bedroom. I hadn’t heard Hannah come home yet, but I didn’t want to take my chances.

The soft light from my laptop charger caught my attention. My computer would have to do. I could put my headphones in and listen to Taylor Swift covers while pinning DIY projects I’d never actually get around to making. It was my favorite guilty pleasure.

I unlocked my computer and tilted the screen so that it wouldn’t wake Grayson. Once my headphones were in place and I’d pulled up a few songs on YouTube, I switched over to my email, wondering if Brooklyn had sent the funny picture of Jason she’d promised me. I needed a good laugh.

After Gmail loaded up, I scanned the first few unopened emails and frowned, confused by the senders: [email protected], [email protected], [email protected]. Oh. Grayson had logged onto his email a few days prior and I had yet to notice that he was still logged in.

I scrolled up to logout of his account, but before I got the chance, a folder on the sidebar caught my attention. It was the first folder listed and its name was only one word: Cammie.

Why did he have a folder with my name on it?

I glanced over my shoulder to check if Grayson was still asleep. He’d turned toward the wall, but when I pulled out my headphones, I could hear his soft snoring.

I turned back to the computer screen and contemplated my next move. I could sign out of his email and proceed to browse Pinterest until my eyes fell out, or I could scroll over and click the folder, just to see what he’d saved. It was probably something sweet.

In the end, my hand made the decision for me. It moved the curser to hover over the folder and my finger clicked once.

I’d expected a few email exchanges between us, maybe ones I’d overlooked during my short time at Cole Designs. Instead, I found myself staring at a list of emails I didn’t recognize. As I scrolled down, pages and pages of emails continued to load. Some of them were dated back to when I was still in college. And then as I continued to scroll, I saw emails dated all the way back to when I was still in high school.

What the hell? Why are these emails categorized under my name? There wasn’t a single email sent to me or from me.

A cold chill ran down my spine as I scrolled back to the very top of the page. I read the first few email addresses and their subjects. The most recent one had been sent just a few hours earlier.



[email protected] - “Job for associate architect”

[email protected] - “Rent for Unit #450”