Page 63 of Smooth Talk

Chapter 28

Grayson

“Poppy,” “Gray,” we say at the same time. It causes a small smile to pull up the corners of her lips. God, I missed that. She leads me into the living room of the cabin. The pine walls are decorated with oars, anchors, fish, lake life signs and family pictures. The color scheme early Americana—rustic reds, light and dark blues and off-white. The cream sofa and chairs look comfortable, but neither of us sit. The atmosphere in the room is too charged. We’re both on edge.

I let my eyes roam freely over her face and body. Even when her hair’s a mess, with no makeup and a tear-stained face and what looks like the same dress she was wearing when she left my house on Thursday, she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’d tell her if I thought she’d believe me. I’m here because I couldn’t stand being apart from her and alone with my thoughts one more day. One more minute. I called Ava, who graciously gave me the address and told me when she’d be alone today. She wasn’t answering her phone and wouldn’t return my calls. I needed to see her, talk to her.

I’d told her I loved her, that I wanted a future with her, and she’d walked away. The first woman I’d ever said those words to, had not said them back. I had been waiting for the right time to express my feelings; hell, I almost told her mid-blowjob, it was that good, thankfully I’m not that big of an idiot and realized when my mouth needed to close. But my timing was less than perfect when I did let those three words fly. I’d chosen to tell her the most wonderful thing at the most horrible moment. I just couldn’t stand to see her hurting like that and not let her know how I felt. She looked so defeated; the sadness in her eyes broke my heart. When she left, my heart completely stopped beating for what felt like minutes. I couldn’t catch my breath. I was pissed, hurt, angry. The deep sadness that crept in threatened to crack my chest wide open.

I couldn’t just wallow. Stand around and do nothing. I had to do something. I made a quick call, and Beverly arrived at my house not long after I’d hung up, to drive me down to the Willow Weekly offices where I was met with an irate Caroline Maxwell. It doesn’t happen often; in fact, I don’t think I’ve seen my mom pissed in public since O’s fifth grade teacher accused him of cheating.

Together we gave the board a piece of our minds. Her speech was way better than mine, partially because I was pissed, but mostly because I’d already had three stiff drinks. Bev was kind enough to record the interaction and Cannon had made it public. We were assured a retraction would be printed, the online article removed, and a public apology would be given, as well as someone losing their job. I realized I’d done everything I could. It would be up to the citizens of Willow Creek. Our judgment can be harsh, but we usually protect our own. It’s what I love about my home. And even though Rusty is a hometown boy, he was clearly in the wrong here. Poppy had run from that judgment. And from me. She wasn’t trying to contact me. And before I called her, I reminded myself that I promised to give her the time she needed. She hadn’t called to ask forgiveness or to thank me for what I’d done. She hadn’t even angry texted and asked me to apologize, which I was more than happy to do. This was her greatest fear come true. And it was my fault (I know Rusty’s to blame, but I can’t help shouldering part of the responsibility— her life was her own until we started dating). The silence is killing me. I thought I’d lost the best thing in my life. Rusty’s lucky the only things he’s losing are his job and his credibility.

When I got back home, I sulked by my phone. That’s when the drinking started in earnest. I hadn’t really stopped, other than to sleep for a couple hours here and there, ‘til 9:30 this morning when O found me on my living room floor, empty bottle still in my hand, and informed that I had missed Willow Creek’s Annual Marathon (the one I run every year, without fail, with my siblings). He threw me in the shower with all my clothes on and fed me coffee, bacon, eggs and toast until I was coherent. I had changed into dry clothes but hadn’t bothered with soap or cologne. Or hell, even deodorant. I’m sure I should’ve thought about all of those things before calling the car service and stewing in the backseat of a town car the entire three hours it took to get to the Monroe’s cabin. (I usually prefer to drive myself, like having control, but this morning, I just wasn’t up for it)

I know Poppy needed time to figure stuff out, and I wanted to give it to her. Believe me. But that was before I completely fell apart. I need her. I’ve known her for less than six months, and already I know the rest of our lives won’t be enough time together. And here she is, wanting to waste more time because she needs to think. Fuck that shit. At least, that’s what I thought when I started drinking. That’s when it got really hard to give her time (Did you know, it’s impossible not to drunk dial a person when you A: need answers, B: need forgiveness or C: need a modicum of self-control—or in my case, all three). I’m praying she’s had enough time because I’m at the end of my fucking rope. I need to know if it’s time for me to start drinking and wallowing again or if we can kiss and make up. And then I think we should take a shower together before her family gets back. Not just for my sanity, but also for my nose. My God, we stink.

“You go first,” she says. Guess that means she needs a bit more time to think about what she’s going to say to me. I’ll help her make the right decision. Fingers crossed I don’t screw this up.

I reach for her, then drop my hands before I make contact. Unsure if I should touch her or not. “Poppy, I’m losing my shit without you. I miss you. I had to see you. I’m sorry I’m pushing. I know you said you needed time, and I said I’d give it to you, but…” I pause not exactly sure how to continue. Should I even keep going? I can’t read her expression; she looks like she could laugh or cry at any moment. I’m choosing to push on; if I don’t tell her how I feel, I’ll regret it.

“I know this is the worst thing that could’ve happened. And it’s what you were afraid of. And I know it would never have happened if it weren’t for me, and I’m so sorry that it did. I just wasn’t expecting you to walk away, but I should’ve known better. You’re a runner, baby, I know that. But I need you to know that I will chase you down every time. We’re a team. I don’t work without you. I need you, Poppy.” I end on a whisper. It’s the truth. I hope she can see that. I reach out for her hands and she places them both in mine, stepping toward me. God, it didn’t take long for this woman to become my whole world. Staring into her eyes, I say the words I’m most scared of; words I need reciprocated. “I love you.”

“I need you too, Gray” she says quietly, and I let out the deep breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “I’m sorry I ran away. It’s a real problem for me and I know it will take time to break my bad habits, but I promise to work on it. I want us to work. I love you. So much. I’m sorry it took this long to say it back. I’ve been wanting to say it for a long time, but I was just so,” I don’t let her finish. I stop her words with my mouth. I’ve heard all I to, and God, I’ve missed her lips. My emotions roller-coastered the day she left. I was higher than I’d ever been before Cannon knocked on my door, and I’d never been so low as when she walked out that same door. I’ve been trying to come back up ever since, but the only thing that will get me there is Poppy. Her saying those words to me.

“Say it again.”

“I’m sorry.” Her face genuinely contrite.

“Not that, the other part,” I say, tugging her body closer.

“I need you.”

“The other, other part.”

“I love you,” now she’s smirking, and I wipe it off her face with a kiss so deep, it erases all doubt of my love for her, until she breaks away with another smirk. “I take it you still want to be with me then?” Oh, this woman. Instead of teasing her back, like I so often do, I hit her with a dose of sincerity.

“There’s never been a moment I haven’t,” I kiss the tip of her nose, her cheeks, forehead, jaw and move back to her lips. “I love you so much Poppy Monroe… I’m willing to kiss your whole face, even when you smell like garbage,” I almost get it out without laughing. She swats my chest, laughing with me. God, I’ve missed that sound.

“You don’t smell like a bed of roses either, you know.” She says, which makes me chuckle harder. She gives as good as she gets.

“Why don’t we take care of that?” I ask and nod my head toward the stairs. We can talk later; I need her now. I know she takes my meaning when I see her turquoise eyes darken. Then a frown pulls down her lovely brows. “What is it?”

“The only shower large enough for two is in the master, and I don’t know when my parents are getting back.”

“Is there a lock on the door?” She shakes her head. So, I swat her perfect ass and trot toward the stairs, “then I guess we’ll have to be quick,” I smirk at her over my shoulder.

Shit. Now it’s my turn to frown.

“What is it?” She asks, and I hate that her happiness has faded yet again into a look of apprehension.

“I don’t have a condom. I left the house in such a hurry, and I’ve been in such a fog the past few days, I didn’t think about it. Don’t suppose your parents keep protection here?” I ask hopefully.

“No; they don’t need it, but neither do we,” she says, looking up at me. We’ve paused mid-stair and I’m about a foot taller than her right now. She looks so small and innocent. I don’t miss the love she has for me shining in her eyes, and it makes this moment even more special when she says, “I’m on birth control. I’m clean. And I trust you. We don’t need to use a condom if you don’t want to.”

I could kiss this woman. I sweep her into my arms and do just that. I set her down on the stair in front of me. “I’m clean, and I trust you too,” I whisper back, looking deeply into her eyes. I have never had sex without a condom, never felt that level of trust with anyone. Suddenly an image of Poppy comes to mind, her belly swollen with my child; it makes me deliriously happy. I want that. Before her, it would have made me run away as fast as my legs would carry me. Now, I can’t wait to start our life together. And I have a feeling one baby won’t be enough. I want a football team of little Poppies and Graysons running around. She’s smiling, staring back at me like she can read my thoughts.

Now, it’s her turn to swat me on my ass. “Let’s get a move on big boy. I don’t know how long we have. And I need you inside me, like yesterday.” She turns and runs up the rest of the stairs, stripping out of her dress on the way. Leaving her tight little body bare except for a black lace thong. Damn. I stand there staring for a second. Taking her in. I’ve never seen anything more perfect. But now I have a shot at feeling perfection. Bare. I race up the stairs, removing my shirt, chasing after her into the bathroom. She’s already standing under the stream, completely naked, smiling, wet. I love that woman. Yanking off the rest of my clothes, I join her under the hot jets where we lather each other up and rub each other down.

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