Bankers' Hours(27)

I OPENED my eyes and saw Tristan sitting next to me, bare chested,  leaning against the headboard of my bed. I was in bed? How had I gotten  there?

"Tristan?" I rasped. My throat was dry.

He turned his head and looked at me. "Grant. You're awake." He leaned  down and kissed my head. "I'm glad. I was worried I'd have to call an  ambulance, and I didn't know any of your insurance information." He  repositioned himself so he was lying on his side right next to me, his  arm across my stomach.

"How did I get in bed?" I asked weakly.

"You fainted. Don't you remember?"

"No."

"I heard you hit the floor. I rushed in and helped you up. You were  dazed, but you spoke just fine." He seemed concerned. "You don't  remember, do you?"

"No."

"Hmm. Maybe you should see a doctor to make sure you don't have a concussion."

"I'll be fine. I'm sure it will come back." I touched my chest and  fingered my T-shirt. "Did I undress myself?" I didn't remember that  either.

"I picked you up, Grant, and tucked you in bed after removing your top layer. I knew you'd be upset if I took everything off."

I gave him a tiny smile. "Very true." My throat was scratchy, so I asked, "Can I get a drink?"

He jumped up. "Of course." Tristan returned with a glass of water and  helped me sit up. After I drank half of it, he set the glass on the  coaster on my nightstand. "You had me worried." Tristan ran his fingers  through my hair and caressed my cheek.

"I'm sorry."

"I know it's a lot to take in."

I rolled my eyes. "Understatement of the year."

"We don't have to do this," he said.

"But you said you loved me," I reminded him.

Tristan reclined on the bed as before, very close, gazing deeply into my  eyes. "Yes. I think I do. Every time you look at me something invisible  takes a hold of my heart, but that doesn't mean we need to go through  with this wedding next week. We can do it in the spring, like you  suggested. That makes more sense. By then, maybe you won't faint from  stressing about it."                       
       
           



       

I took a deep breath, held it, and released it. Logic had no seat in my  house anymore, or at my dining room table. I had invited chaos in when I  had blurted imaginary wedding plans at Teresa. I'd done this. Me. Yes, I  could back out and resume my boring, predictable life, where everything  had to line up at right angles and zero out at the end of each day, but  was the safe bet wise? I closed my eyes and meditated on it. Tristan  was kind, romantic, sweet, considerate, attentive, and honorable. Why  would I pass that up just because it didn't make sense logically? Life  wasn't always logical.

I opened my eyes and took another deep breath.

"No," I said. "I'm not backing out. I want to go through with it. I want  to marry you. It's overwhelming, and I'm sorry I fainted, but it was  the stress. I didn't freak out and panic because I'm being forced  against my will." I held his eyes so he could see my honesty. "I can't  tell you I love you, because I've never been in love. I won't lie; I'm  scared. But even with the insanity surrounding us, I can't deny I feel  something when I look at you. No one has ever treated me half as well as  you. I believe you when you say you love me. I promise, when I know for  sure, I'll say it back."

One tear spilled from the corner of Tristan's eye as he took me into his  arms against his chest. He held me in silence for the longest time,  rubbing my back and kissing my hair. I wondered what he was thinking. I  hoped I'd said the right thing and he wasn't mad, but I couldn't say  those words without knowing for sure.

Then he whispered, "You are such a beautiful person, Grant."





BASICALLY WE repeated Saturday morning on Sunday, only at my house and  without the insane ex yelling at us. We didn't talk about the craziness  of Saturday or my poorly executed reactions. We laughed and made waffles  without flour strewn across every surface. We snuggled on my couch and  watched Pitch Black. We also made out on my bed for two hours before  Tristan suggested he leave. This time we controlled ourselves-no dry  humping or groping-but I had to relieve the pressure after he'd gone. My  balls were aching, and my dick was harder than I'd ever felt in my  life. If we didn't have sex soon, I feared something inside might  rupture.

Before I turned off my light, I texted my mom. Are you still awake?

She texted back: This is rather late, don't you think? Is everything all right?

Yes. Remember how I said I met a guy?

Yes. The shop owner?

The auto mechanic shop, yes. Well …  we sort of …  we're getting married.

My phone rang. "Hello?"

My mother wasn't so polite. "Grant, if this is some sort of joke … ."

"No, Mom, it's not. We went out, and it sort of just happened. We're  getting married on Saturday. He bought me a ring and everything."

I heard her exhale heavily into the receiver. "I've wondered for years  if you'd ever settle down. Although I hoped it would be soon, and  possibly with the shop owner, I'll admit I'm shocked. It's a bit abrupt,  don't you think, dear? You hardly know this man. What's his name?"

"Tristan Carr." Her arguments were sound and nothing I could dispute.

"And you're sure this is what you want?" she asked.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and then answered, "Yes."

"You hesitated."

"No, I didn't. I was sighing because I thought you'd yell."

"Grant, you're twenty-six years old. At some point you need to make your  own decisions and stick by them. I thought it was a miracle when you  moved out."

I was flabbergasted. "What? I thought you wanted me living with you all that time. I thought you were lonely after Dad died."

"I do miss your father, but I have friends. Many friends. Since you've  been out of the house, I haven't had to worry about them staying over  too late. I can have dinner parties and go to the theater without having  to worry about you. I even have several bus trips coming up. I'm very  busy."

"Oh," I mumbled. Somehow, I felt deflated. All these years I thought I'd  been doing her a favor by being so attentive to her. "So you're not  bothered that I haven't texted all weekend?"

"Sweetheart, I hoped you were out having sex all weekend."

I sat up and squawked, "Ah! I did not just hear you say that!"

"Grant, honey, you need to loosen up. If this man is patient enough to  see the kindness behind your quirks, then I'm glad you two are getting  married. Let me know when and where, and I'll attend. For now, I'd like  to get some rest. One of my bus trips is tomorrow. A group of us are  going to see the Natural Bridge in Virginia."                       
       
           



       

"Oh, that sounds nice."

"It should be. Now go to sleep, Grant. I know how cranky you get when you don't get enough sleep before work."

"Good night, Mom. I love you."

"I love you too dear. Good night."

I hung up and set my phone on my nightstand. The one call I'd dreaded  making and it had totally flipped my assumptions all around. I'd gotten  the impression my mother was more relieved about my wedding than upset.  Wow. I flopped back down on my pillow. This new town was beginning to  feel like the Twilight Zone. All this change, and now my mom-I didn't  know what to think. I closed my eyes and hoped for sleep.





MONDAY MORNING, Tristan met me at the courthouse and we filed the  necessary paperwork for a marriage license. I hadn't expected them to  issue the license right then. When we walked out with an official  document in hand-that would be valid basically two days later-it  frightened me how real it was getting. We had up to six months to get  hitched, but Tristan wanted to do it Saturday when he had Claire.

"Are you stopping by the bank later?" I asked as we stood in the parking lot next to my car.

"No. I have way too much work. I've been putting things off so I could  come see you during the week, but I need to spend time catching up. I  have some bills due." Tristan had his hands on my hips, and I could feel  him rubbing his thumbs against my shirt.

"Okay. When will I see you?" I asked, worried it would be a couple of  days. Our weekend might have been intense, but I wasn't ready to go back  to sleeping alone every night.

"Maybe Wednesday?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. It wasn't like we were married yet; I  didn't need to see him all the time. "Okay." I glided my hands up his  chest and took ahold of the lapels of his work shirt. "Promise to think  about me?" Yes, I sounded pathetic, but he was probably used to it by  now. He'd had a crash course.