"There's so much pain," he said on a broken whisper.
"I know," I said, moving right up against him and taking him in my arms as he leaned his head into my chest. God, I knew the pain he was feeling now. I understood it, and I ached for him. "Listen to me, Grayson." I leaned back and took his face in my hands, looking him in the eye. "There is always pain in this life. Not just for me, not just for you—for everyone. You can't avoid it. And sometimes the pain is so great, it feels as if it carves out the very essence of who you are. But it doesn't, not if you don't allow it to. It carves out a place in you, yes, but love is meant to fill that space. If you let it, pain makes more space for love within you. And the love we carry inside makes us strong when nothing else can."
His dark eyes searched mine. "Do you believe that?" he asked.
"I know that."
Grayson let out a long, shaky breath, burrowing his head into my chest again. "My Kira . . ." he murmured, "if only I could believe it, too."
"You can. In time, you will. Let that be the legacy your father leaves you. That's the perfect vengeance."
We sat that way for what seemed like a long time, me holding him until my legs beneath me began to cramp.
Grayson finally looked up at me, running his thumb over my cheekbone, and murmured, "Would it ruin the moment to tell you I want to take you upstairs and fuck you until I can't see straight?"
I laughed softly. "I'm at your service. But first, let's make some coffee and get you sobered up. You're going to feel like hell tomorrow. And we have a long day of monkey shopping to do."
Grayson let out a laugh that ended on a half groan/half sigh. "Okay," he finally said. "Okay."
**********
"Grayson's not working today?" Charlotte asked, her face a study in concern.
"I don't think so. He didn't get out of bed this morning. But he needs to sleep—he drank quite a bit last night." I'd already told Walter about the mess in the cellar and he had cleaned it up, taking inventory of the bottles Grayson hadn't smashed. Maybe the monkey was a little over the top, but I was serious about the parrot.
"Perhaps I should go up and talk to him . . ." Charlotte said.
I nodded. "Later, Charlotte, he needs to sleep. But I'm sure he'd appreciate what you have to say. He seems so," I chewed on my lip for a moment, "grief-stricken."
"I'm sure that's exactly what he is," she said. She shook her head sadly. "And he can't be happy with me, nor with Walter . . ."
"He'll come around."
Charlotte nodded, but her look was doubtful and her lack of confidence only served to make me more nervous. She seemed so distraught that I gave her a hug. "He's going to be okay," I said. But my tone lacked conviction, even to my own ears. The lost look in his eyes when I'd left the room this morning had sent a chill through my blood.
And there was the fact that I was keeping something from him, too. In the beginning, it hadn’t seemed like information that needed sharing. But then everything had happened so quickly . . . and now, it was a secret between us and I knew I needed to tell him, but I didn't know how he'd react. He was still on such emotionally unstable ground. How many secrets could he process right now? How much pain could a person handle before they broke?
It's me again, Gram. If you could send me some wisdom . . . what do I do?
Charlotte pulled me from my worried reverie. "Gray got a call this morning that his bottle labels are ready," she said. "I guess I'll go into town and pick those up for him."
"I'll take care of it. I need to get out for a little bit anyway. I feel like I'm breathing down Grayson's neck. He probably needs a little time to process everything on his own. I don't want to get in the way of that. If he does come down, will you text me?"
"Yes, of course, dear. See you soon."
I drove into town, going straight to the small print shop where Grayson had ordered labels for the wine about to be bottled. The woman at the front desk brought the box out to me and then ran my bankcard, frowning slightly at the machine. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hawthorn, it says your card is declined."
"What? That can't be right," I said. There was plenty of money in that account. "Will you try it again?" She did, with the same result, looking uncomfortable.
Despite the chill that went down my spine, I shook my head. "My husband probably bought something and didn't tell me. I'll have to stop in at the bank. Men."
She chuckled softly. "It's happened to me before, too. Do you want me to try another card?"
I didn't have another card. I dug in my purse, counting out the money I had. Thankfully, I had quite a bit. I'd taken out cash to tip all the vendors at the party several weeks ago, but Grayson had given Walter the cash for that, so I hadn't used what was in my wallet. It was all still there. I counted out the money for the bill and handed it over, thanking her, and leaving the shop with the box of labels.