The Words We Leave Unspoken(26)

I pause for a moment as my heart rate slows before peeling myself off of Grey, begging him to get dressed as he rolls over and buries his face in the pillow with a groan.

I dash to the bathroom to clean up and when I return to the bedroom, I realize that it’s nearly time for us both to be at the office. Grey’s sitting on the end of my unmade bed in last night’s clothes. I stand across the room and cinch the tie on my silk robe as I watch him slip on his dress shoes and I can’t help but feel frazzled. How do I walk into the office and act as if I didn’t just kick him out of my bed?

In a quiet command, he says, “Come here.”

I walk slowly to him and he pulls me down on his lap, his hand grazing my bare thigh where my robe is split open. “Have dinner with me tonight,” he says, looking deep into my eyes.

I close my eyes for a quick second and take a deep breath before meeting his gaze. “Dinner? I can’t...”

“It’s just two people sharing a meal, Charley. Don’t freak out,” he smirks.

“Dinner,” I repeat with my lips pursed, trying it on for size.

“Yes, dinner. With me. In public. Can you handle it?” He’s challenging me, something he has only done in the bedroom, but he knows me well enough to know that I never back down from a challenge.

“I can handle it,” I retort with a smile.

“Good,” he says, weaving his fingers in my hair and pulling my face to his. He places a gentle kiss on my lips, taking my breath away in an instant. It’s too much all at once.

“Grey?” I open my eyes slowly.

“Yeah?”

“I want to have dinner with you. I do. But I can’t tonight. Can I take a rain check?”

His face is inches from mine as he stares at me for a beat.

“Okay, not tonight. Saturday night then. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

I nod. “Okay, Saturday night.”

He kisses me once more and as I start to stand, he smacks me on the ass, startling me.

“Get your hot ass to work, Miss Brant. You’re late. Again.”

I turn and catch his wicked grin. My thighs clench. I want this man too much, I think. And that thought makes my heart clench.





Chapter 17





Gwen


I sit at the kitchen counter, staring aimlessly out the glass doors with my hand wrapped around a full mug of coffee that I can’t seem to muster enough strength to lift to my lips. I can see the green grass glistening with dew in the back yard and beyond that, the island ferry inching across the sound, leaving behind a subtle v-shaped wake. The sun is shining today, lighting up the glasslike surface of the water with a fiery glare. It’s a beautiful day, and yet I can’t seem to snap out of my dark mood. I feel depressed. Tired. A feeling that I’m not familiar with.

Last night I laid in bed just staring at John while he slept soundly, completely oblivious to the ticking time bomb wedged between us. I wanted to wake him so many times and just confess, whisper it all quietly in the dark. But in the end, I couldn’t wrangle enough nerve.

Earlier this morning I had mindlessly slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, pulled my hair into a ponytail and finished off my disheveled look with a pair of camel-colored Uggs. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t bother with my appearance, regardless of whether or not my day consisted only of carpool and housework. I dropped the kids off in the turn-about, something I have never done, and asked Olivia to walk Max to his classroom. Olivia had rolled her eyes at my request, but rather than pitch a fit, she had grabbed her brother’s hand and marched him across campus toward the kindergarten wing. It broke my heart to ask her to do something for Max, when it should have been my responsibility. With their five-year age gap – the same as Charley and I – I try hard not to burden Olivia with taking care of Max.

I hear the doorbell ring, startling me, and I slowly make my way to the front entry. I open the door to find my mother standing on the front porch in a straw visor, her short wavy blonde hair spilling out the top. She’s dressed in her usual attire of loose fitting leggings and a draped, cotton sweater, all in neutral shades. Her oversized, black vegan-leather handbag is hanging from one shoulder and a Whole Foods reusable shopping bag is dangling on the other.

She pulls her tortoise-shaped sunglasses from her face and smiles at me.

“Mother, what are you doing here?” I ask her.

“Well, you haven’t returned any of my calls, so I thought I’d come check on you.” She looks me up and down with a frown and asks, “Are you sick?”

I take a deep breath and give her a closed-lip smile. My mother is the last person I want to see right now. She’s pushy and talks too much and I just want to spend the day alone. I’m not in the mood for her interrogations or her opinions.

“Yeah, just feeling a little under the weather today,” I reply. She pushes her way past me.

“You poor thing. You need to take better care of yourself, Gwen. You do too much. Sometimes it’s okay to take a break,” she says, making her way down the hallway toward the kitchen.

Here we go, I think as I push the door closed and follow her to the kitchen. She has the shopping bag on the counter as she unloads its contents one at a time. Cellophane wrapped boxes of tea, a jar of rainbow-colored gummy vitamins, a bottle of apple-cider vinegar, cranberry juice and several tiny dark bottles of essential oil line the dark marble countertop.