Page 31 of We're Not Strangers Anymore

Three Weeks Later- Sicily, Italy

Grayson joins me at the table as I pick at the vine of grapes in front of me.

“You going to keep sleeping in the other room?” He asks. I’ve been sleeping in the room across the hall from him. This house is much bigger and I want to keep as much distance between us as possible. We’ve gone too far too many times already and I’m not going to keep falling under his spell.

“Yup. There's plenty of room here, why wouldn’t I?” I respond dryly, still looking down at my grapes.

He leans back in his chair and I stare at every beautiful inch of his tattoo covered chest.Stop staring.

“Because we’re married and have been sleeping in the same bed for two months.” He retorts. I get up from the table to walk past him rolling my eyes when he catches my wrist. His eyes rake up my body and he brings my hand to his lips.

“Stop this, Grayson.” I say firmly.

“Rowan, I think about you all the time.” He says softly.

“No shit we’re in the same house.” I say, pulling my hand away.

“What is your deal lately?” He snaps.

“Grayson, do you see how abnormal our situation is? What do you want from me?” I snap back.

“I want you to stop fucking acting like you feel nothing. You can’t tell me you went from rejecting every guy that’s ever tried to get you into bed to riding my face every night at the cabin if you feel nothing.” He stands, our faces just inches apart.

“I’ll tell you exactly what I feel if you want to tell me where my dad is.” I challenge.

“In hell. Where he belongs. You’re fucking welcome.” He says, his jaw clenching. I deliver a sharp slap to the side of his face and it doesn’t even phase him.

“I hated him, Grayson, but I didn’t wantanyoneto fucking die!” I scream. Did he think I was going to be impressed that he killed my father?

“He killed your mother, Rowan!” He snaps back.What. The. Fuck.

“H-he killed her?”

“I’m sorry I should’ve told–”

“Yeah you fucking should have told me mister ‘I want your trust’.”I clip as I walk away from him.

“Rowan–”

“I just need to be by myself.” I say, emotionless.

I stride across the travertine tile floor to the mahogany back door. Strolling through the vineyard, the golden hues of the setting sun casting long shadows over the neatly aligned row of grapevines, I take comfort in the calm that surrounds me, a beautiful distraction from the ugly truth Grayson just laid on me. The air is rich with the scent of ripe grapes. This is the place I’ve always needed to be. Rural Italy, it’s so beautiful– it’s the peace that I’ve needed. I don’t ever want to go back.My fingers brush against the leaves as my long, white cotton dress flows in the breeze. I like to come out to the vineyard and feel the soft grass under my feet when things get overwhelming. It’s been my happy place since we’ve arrived here. Sophia and Laila have been staying in the guest house and they join me out here with a bottle of wine sometimes. I can definitely say, Laila has become my best friend. I never knew I’d have a best friend again, but it feels good. And Sophia is like the mother I’ve always wanted. She’s warm and inviting, when she hugs me, my inner child wants to cry. I’ve grown such a connection with these people. I don’t know what life will look like in the near future, but I hope it involves Laila and Sophia.

I reach a small clearing, I pause, watching the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky in beautiful shades of orange and pink.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” A familiar voice breaks the silence.

I turn to see Grayson walking toward me, his tall figure silhouetted against the light. He moves with ease, like he belongs here. His presence feels unsettling after what he told me in the kitchen. It’s an odd mix of emotions because I can't help but to also feel a sense of comfort and security when he’s near me.

“Yeah, it is,” I reply softly, “it’s my favorite time of day to come out here.”

His eyes scan the horizon before settling on me. “Rowan, we need to talk.”

A knot tightens in my stomach. “About what?”

He takes a deep breath, stepping closer. “About us. About what happens next.”

I swallow hard, I dread emotional conversations with him. I hate how well he’s gotten to know me. “Grayson, I–”

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