Page 48 of Beautiful Mess

“Holy shit, Grace. He’s, like,reallyfucking into you.”

“What?” I hiss. “No. He was probably trying to be nice and make up for the fact that he drives me crazy all the damn time.”

Gemma clicks her tongue, and I don’t have to see my sister’s eyes to know she’s rolling them. “I know you aren’t that naive, Grace. Do the math for a second. No man would spend that kind of money, and insecret, if he wasn’t crushinghardon a woman.”

“First of all, Conway is fifty-two,” I scoff. “He doesn’t havecrushes. And second of all, you’re wrong. It’s not like that with us. We’re just having fun, keeping things casual. Conway doesn’t do more. And besides, I would know if this was more than that.”

“Riiight.Sure, you would,” she snorts, patting me on the back. “Listen, I gotta get home, but let me know what he says when you confront him about it. I’ll even do my best to not say I told you so. Love you, byeee!”

I flip her off, which only makes her laugh harder, before climbing into my car and starting it. My heart races and there’s a ringing in my ears as I sit in park for much longer than I care to admit. My gaze drops to my purse in the passenger seat, and I briefly think about calling him, but then I remember he’s busy. But I can’t say nothing. I have so many questions.

So, I send a text instead.

Me: I need to talk to you.

This doesn’t make any sense.

When did Conway do this?

Why would he do something so thoughtful…and expensive.

And why does it make me feel like I can’t catch my breath? A golf ball-sized lump sits in my throat as I attempt to swallow down some of the emotions swirling around inside of me as my phone buzzes in my hand.

Conway:Okay, so talk.

My head drops back, smacking the seat as I groan.

Me: Where are you?

Conway: Davis’s. Waiting for him to get back with lunch. Why?

I stare at the message, then at the keyboard, my heart in my throat.

Fuck it.

Me: Address?

As soon as he sends it, I plug it into my GPS, my stomach twisting with nausea as I pack out of the spot and start on my way. Fuck! The date, the sex, the warm, cozy feeling of falling asleep and waking up in Conway’s arms…and now this. I can’t make sense of any of it.

Or maybe it’s that I don’t want to.

But when I push myself to dig a little deeper into the way I’m feeling—the overwhelming weight pressing down on my chest, and the way my pulse can’t seem to settle down—what I find terrifies me.This…This is exactly why I don’t do casual, why I can nevergo with the flow. It’s like I’m incapable of experiencing intimacy without my stupid heart getting involved.

The truth hits me like a Mack truck as I turn onto Davis’s street. It’s visceral, sucking the air right from my lungs.

I have feelings for Conway.

Very not-casual feelings.

Fuck me.

Twenty-Two

Conway

The sound of rapid, heavy pounds on the front door has me sauntering down the hall right before the doorbell chimes not once, but twice.What the hell?I know it’s Grace, but what I don’t know is why she needed to come here. Her text messages offered me absolutely nothing, and when I tried to call her after I sent her the address, she sent me to voicemail.

Pulling the door open, I’m met with a frazzled Grace. Not bothering to wait for an invitation, she blows past me, tossing her purse on the bench in the entryway before spinning around to face me. Her chest heaves and her cheeks are rosy, and I have half a mind to ask if she sprinted here from wherever she was.

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