Page 22 of Her Pretty Words

I wrap my arms around myself and glance around, not sure what to do with myself.

Grayson pours two glasses of red wine, and hands one to me. “The furniture isn’t for show. You can sit.”

I roll my eyes and pull out a barstool, it squeaks against the hard wood floors. The air is crisper in his house than mine next door, and I realize that he has an air conditioning unit beneath his window. Where my grandparent’s house is old, Grayson’s is completely modernized.

I chug my wine, setting the glass down on the counter when Grayson hands me a plate. He eyes my empty glass with amusement. “Would you like some more?”

I take a bite of a fry and nod.

He sits on the stool beside me after filling my glass. We eat in silence. By the time I’m finished, I realize what a horrible guest I am for not making decent conversation, but then again, when did I start to care?

“Thought for thought?” He sits with his body facing mine, so when I turn to him, our knees brush together.

I’m not sure if it’s the wine that makes me compliant, but I shrug and say, “You first.”

“I didn’t expect you to show up at my doorstep, but I’m glad you did. It’s been…a while since I’ve had company.”

Something about his vulnerability has me deciding to follow the rules of the game, sharing one of my thoughts. “I’mthinking…” I give him a once over. “It’s sad someone like you isn’t used to having company.”

His gaze is on my face for so long I nearly squirm. “Someone like me?” He finally breaks the silence.

“I…I just mean you don’t deserve isolation.” I take a sip of wine. I remember what Sarah told me. How no one in town knows him.

He leans in a fraction, and if I wasn’t watching, I wouldn’t have noticed him any closer. “And you don’t deserve to marry someone you’re unhappy with,” he says softly, in a low voice.

I grind my teeth. “Iamhappy.”

“Then why come here?”

“I—”

“Don’t answer. Just think on it.” He stands and takes our plates to the sink. “Put on your shoes,” he says, rinsing the dishes with water.

Is he kicking me out?

“The BARnacle has great food but horrible dessert, and the ice cream shop is too busy with sticky fingered children. The gas station has decent ice cream.” He says all while putting our plates in the dishwasher. “Assuming you like ice cream.”

“I’m not a total monster.”

“What’s your favorite flavor?” Grayson asks once we make it to the tiny convenient store. He opens the freezer of wrapped ice cream sandwiches and cones.

“Brown.”

He swivels his head to raise an eyebrow at me.

“That’s what I called chocolate when I was younger.” I smile, remembering the way my grandma continued to call it that even after I learned the flavor’s proper name.

“Chocolate ice cream...” He wrinkles his nose. “That one is a little questionable.” He reaches into the case and pulls out a prepackaged cone. He turns it around so I can read the label, and I’m not surprised to see that it’s strawberry.

“What’s the point of getting a healthy flavor like strawberry? You might as well go eat the fruit instead.”

“Once you have a taste, you will understand the appeal.”

I huff out a laugh, biting my tongue so I don’t make athat’s what she said joke.“Doubtful.” I grab a chocolate ice cream cone and make my way to the cashier, but before I can pay for it, Grayson steals it and sets it on the counter with his. He swipes his card and hands the dessert back to me.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say.

He grabs the door before I can, using his backside to hold it open for me to pass. “I’m happy to.”

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