Bait (Wake, #1)(20)
“Yeah, it was great. I miss her.” I really did, too. I didn't get to spend nearly enough time with her. I'd wasted it. But that wasn't the right word. It wasn't wasted; it was just misgiven.
The drive to my place was quiet. Uncomfortably so. It wasn’t him; it was me. I was edgy. The seat in his truck didn't feel right. The temperature was all wrong. I hated the song that played. I felt locked up and caged.
I was never so happy to be home.
“Thanks for the ride, Grant. I'll call you later. Okay?” I said, before I leaned over and gave him a kiss with all the warmth of day-old dishwater.
“I'm glad you're home. I love you. Call if you need anything and get some rest.” He smiled weakly at me. I was behaving strangely.
Warily, I got out of the cab of his truck and walked to my apartment door. I set my bag on the ground to dig for my keys and prayed that I didn't slip them into my missing suitcase. I willed them to be there. And they were. Right inside the mug that said, “Lou Likes Trouble.”
Ain’t this a bitch?
I pulled the yellow coffee mug out of my bag and dumped the keys into my sweaty palm. I'd forgotten that I'd put it in there. As if I needed any more reminders.
After getting inside and picking my mail up off the floor, I went directly to my bathroom. I stripped my clothes off and walked over to the big soaker tub—the real reason I signed the lease on that place—and turned the water to just the right temperature. I walked naked back into the kitchen, grabbed my phone, a cold bottle of wine and the mug.
I climbed into the scalding hot water, sunk down low and tried to wash the memories off me. I needed to wipe all of it clean away and rid myself of my foolish behavior and silly thoughts of a guy, who I had no right to be thinking about.
None of that happened.
Instead, I soaked in the tub, drank two Lou mugs of wine. I begged myself not to call him and compromised, that if I didn't call his number it could remain in my phone. Knowing it was there was enough.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
As the days went by it got easier to not think about Casey. Although, he was always there at the back of my mind. I began working extra shifts at the restaurant and unintentionally avoiding Grant. I was avoiding everything but time. I needed time. Time to sort it all out. Time to get my head back into reality.
It was no surprise that Grant didn't propose right away after I returned from San Francisco. I was barely there at all. I was in a daze. I'd tell myself, Self, he isn't thinking about you. It was a fling. You have a real boyfriend here who loves and wants to marry you. Get your shit together.
But Self was a hussy with a damn good memory.
I dreamed of him. Almost nightly. I was even a little paranoid that if I slept in the same bed as Grant I would say his name in my sleep. So I avoided that, too. Every reason turned into an excuse, all the while, Grant was patient. It was a paradox. Grant’s patience and Casey’s insistence. And just like that, thoughts of him invaded my mind.
Working as many shifts as I was, I was tired and so that excuse usually went undisputed. Others didn't have the same effect.
“Laundry again? Blake, you said you had to do laundry the other night, too. Are you mad at me? What did I do?” Grant said as we sat on my parents’ back patio. My mom and dad were cleaning up the dinner mess and Shane, my oldest brother, was in the yard tossing a ball for Randy, my parents’ eight-year-old Saint Bernard.
“I'm not mad. I'm sorry. I've just been stressed out at work and thinking about this new job thing. I don't know. I'm sorry.” I wasn't being fair to Grant and it was time I put the past behind me. The past, as if it were some long tumultuous affair.
It was one weekend and one crazy night, and there I was letting it affect my life so much. I needed to get him out of my system.
“Listen, I don't have to work tomorrow. I'm going to that interview. What about I cook you dinner and you stay over tomorrow night? I'll make that thing you like.” And for the first time in the past few weeks I put a smile on his face. We hadn't had sex since I'd left. “And I'll wear that thing you like, too.”
He scooted closer to me on the back seat we shared. “What about tonight?” he said leaning into my neck and placing a soft kiss under my ear. “I can't wait until tomorrow. Please?”
His kiss felt warm and welcome. Which made me happy. I'd been so closed off since I got back. Our relationship was great before I left. It wasn't knock-your-socks-off crazy, we weren't pawing at each other in public, but it was good. Comfortable. Secure. Traditional.
“No. I owe you. I want to do something special for you. Let me get this interview out of the way and I'll be able to focus. Can you do that? Can you wait one more night?”
“No, but I will.” He pulled my mouth to his with a gentle hand on my cheek. “You're worth a little wait. Besides, I might have a surprise for you, too.”
I had a feeling I knew what it would be. In forty-eight hours I'd probably be engaged. I'd give myself this one last night. One last night to replay those few hours I'd had with Casey then, I'd be Grant's for good.
We sat there for a few more minutes and chatted with my family. I saw Grant wink at my dad when he told him about how I planned on cooking him his favorite chicken marsala. My dad nodded and gave me a quick smile.
“Thanks for coming over, sweetheart,” my mom said a little later as she hugged us in the driveway. “Good luck at your interview tomorrow. Call me when you finish up. I want to hear all about it. And see you later, Grant.”