Page 65 of The Cabin

“Listen. I’ve already called the cops (no I didn’t), they’re on their way. So, unless you want to be charged for a domestic dispute, then I suggest you leave now. Clean and easy.” I steel myself, ready to do the unthinkable. “Wouldn’t want your clients catching wind of this, now would we? ‘Natalie McKenzie, the woman at the top of the wedding industry’s corporate ladder. Divorced. Cheated on. How is she supposed to advise people in their wedding planning if she can’t even keep a husband?’ I can see it now. Every tabloid across the city. Sounds like you’re about to lose a lot of daddy’s money.”

Jesus, that hurt. My face is smug, strong, but it is just a mask. I feel sick. I said those things because I knew I didn’t have a choice. Because I needed Grayson safe and away from this woman. I knew exactly how to hit where it hurts. I just had to repeat the sad, self-deprecating affirmations I’ve said to myself about a million times.

I am not proud of what I did, but I do stand by what I did.

“Oh, I’m so going to wring you dry. I’ll take pleasure in watching you burn. Hopefully, your little girlfriend doesn’t catch on fire from standing too close.” She’s completely ignoring me, spitting venom at Grayson, but she thankfully turns on her ridiculously high heels for the middle of the woods and leaves out the front door. I hear her car door a few moments later.

With a quick twist I lock the front door and turn to lean against it. My hands find my face and I close my eyes behind them. Holy shit. The adrenaline is all out sprinting out of my body. The fear of what I did prickling against my neck. How quickly bravado abandons us.

I did the right thing. I know I did.

“Sol, why did you –”

My hands slip from my face and I hold up one finger asking him to wait a second.

“I think we should go get milkshakes.”

Chapter 19

“Here you go, darlings. Fresh baked banana bread. Made it myself.” The woman serving us is delightfully charming. She has had a huge, warm smile on her face every time she’s been to the table. We put in milkshake orders a few minutes ago. With a side of fries to share, obviously.

“Oh my gosh this looks so good!” I gush. “But I actually think we’re okay.” Her expression makes me think she’s never had anyone send her bread back before.

“Are you sure? It’ll just be going cold in the back.”

I put the biggest, most sincere smile on my face to try to avoid insulting her. “I’m so sorry it’s just that he’s allergic.” I shrug and her eyes go wide.

“To nuts? I have some without nuts!”

I shake my head, “No, to bananas.” I sigh and hike my thumb in his direction in a big, ‘This guy, amirite?’

“Oh, what a shame!” She clicks her tongue, “Your milkshakes will be ready in just a few.” She bustles away, stopping at another table to fill their coffee.

“She is so cute!” I say, turning back towards Grayson. He has such a funny look on his face.

I’m just glad to see any emotion on his face. He’d been completely silent on the way here, face completely blank, fingers tapping on the steering wheel every so often. We had to drive forty-five silent minutes outside of town to find a place that was open past eight o’clock. Martha’s Diner saves the day.

“What?” I laugh, eyeing him, raising an eyebrow.

“You didn’t have to send the banana bread back.”

“Of course I did. What are you even talking about?”

“It’s not like fish or peanuts, I’m not gonna die right here at the table.” I just shrug, but his gaze doesn’t leave mine.

“Grayson, I’d rather never eat another banana in my entire life than eat one in front of you while you can’t enjoy it.” More emotion. Sparking in the eyes this time. This is good. Now we’re getting somewhere.

To be very clear, I’d be fine if he was silent for the next ten years. If the roles were reversed and I had just gone through that with Brian while Grayson not only watched, but had to get involved and lie for me? Yeah, I’m not sure I’d be surfacing from under my covers for a short eternity.

“Sol, you can’t–”

“You are so cliché it hurts. Mint chocolate chip milkshake? Do you drink your toothpaste at night too?” I say, cutting him off. It’s not time yet. And he’s too in his head to see anything clearly anyway.

He lowers his eyes at me, but I stare right back, refusing to back down. There’s a very exasperated diva sigh before he says, “Some of us have taste, lollipop.”

“I cannot believe you’re still hanging on to that pet name in the death grip you are. And I’m pretty sure I’m the one who fought for the french fries, so everything you say from here on out has no foundation.”

“Why would I have thought to order fries with ice cream?”

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