Still (Grip Book 2)(11)

6





Grip





"You can't keep your hands off her, can you?"

Esther O'Malley studies me with a knowing grin. I don't want to grin  back. I should be embarrassed that this nice old lady just heard Bristol  screaming her head off, but it's hard to find the shame with Mrs.  O'Malley grinning at me like a Cheshire cat.

"Um, no, ma'am." I chuckle and try to look chagrined. "We haven't seen  each other in a couple of weeks, and I missed her. Sorry about earlier.  That was . . ."

Remarkable. Earth-shattering. World-rocking.

"Unacceptable," I say instead.

"Don't apologize. She's a beautiful girl." Esther glances over her  shoulder at Bristol and Charm bringing up the rear. Bristol splits a  glance between Esther and me with bright red cheeks. I've seen that girl  blush more lately than I can ever remember.

"That she is," I agree.

Mrs. O'Malley leads me out and into an enclosed porch of sorts that looks like it might have been a greenhouse at some point.

"Are you two married?" she asks.

"Is that a condition for the lease?" I frown because I really love this  place, more than any of the others Bristol sent pictures of this week  while I was in Europe doing shows.

"Oh, no." Mrs. O'Malley releases another one of those robust laughs. "Just curious."

"We're not married." I pause to offer a one-sided grin. "Yet."

"Engaged?" Her brows climb into silver-streaked bangs.

"Not yet."

"What are you waiting for? Someone else to snatch her up?"

Even as a joke, that idea feels like a set of jagged fangs tearing  through the muscles in my stomach, though I know it would never happen. I  know she'll never be anyone else's.

"That's not even . . ." I clear my throat. "No, I'm just waiting for the  right time. There's so much transition right now, so much going on. I  just . . ."

I have no idea why I'm telling a complete stranger all of this, but  there's something about this lady. Ever since she busted out laughing  over my joke and took my arm, a rapport has been building between us.

"I just want it to be right," I finish.

Bristol, Charm, and her mother join us in the greenhouse before Mrs.  O'Malley can respond. Bristol makes her way over and slips her hand into  mine while the other ladies converse about the latest gossip in the  city.         

     



 

I assume Bristol is over her embarrassment, but I still bend to whisper, "You okay?"

I linger behind her ear, inhaling the mingled smells of her hair and perfume, heated by her pulse.

"Yeah." She glances at Mrs. O'Malley still chatting with Bridget and  Charm. "I owe you for that nasty trick you played on me. ‘What color  would you call that, honey?'" she mimics.

"Your face." I drop my head into the curve of her neck and chuckle. "Classic. ‘Such a rich white.'"

"Asshole." When she draws back, the affection in her eyes and the smile on her face remove any sting. "Do you like this place?"

"My favorite so far, by a lot."

"I don't know." A tiny grin teases the corners of her lips. "We could  always go to my old stomping grounds, the Upper East Side."

"I told you it's too bougie." I laugh because we've already had this debate.

"Is bougie anything like siditty? You called me that once."

"That's because you were siditty." I dodge her small fist when it comes toward my chest. "And yes, kind of like that."

"But it costs just as much to live in Tribeca as it does there."

"Yeah, but Jay Z lives here."

We both laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement.

"I really like this." Bristol studies the outdoor porch with the  comfortable couches and the table set for two in the far corner. "It  reminds me of our roof at home."

"Be a great place to watch the sun set," I say. "Or snow fall. You know I've never seen snow fall?"

Bristol turns stunned eyes up to me.

"Are you kidding? You've never seen snow? How is that possible?"

"I've seen snow on the ground, but never falling." I shrug. "I'm a Cali  guy. We never had snow falling in LA. When my mom sent to me to Chicago  that year the violence was off the chain in my neighborhood, it was  summer, and any time I've seen snow, it was after the fact. I just want  to catch Mother Nature in the act, see it coming down."

I glance around the renovated space that oozes charm and intimacy.

"This would be a great place to watch snow fall."

"Yeah, this is a beautiful space," Bristol agrees. "The whole apartment  is really, and there's a suite on the other side for Amir."

I slant her a disbelieving glance and a quick frown.

"What the hell makes you think Amir's coming with us to New York?"

"Well, I will be away some, and you need protection."

Irritation rises as it usually does when someone implies that I can't  take care of myself-something I've been doing all my life in rougher  neighborhoods than Tribeca and SoHo.

"He doesn't need to," I say. "If I have an event or something, he can  fly in, but I don't need him around the clock like some shadow."

"Grip, you're not just a local guy who made good and can-"

"I don't want that, Bris," I cut in, softening my voice when it comes  out too harsh. "I said I can take care of myself. You think Amir's going  to walk me to school every day? Sit in class and make sure no one  bullies me? What the hell?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Exasperation pinches Bristol's lips together. "Your profile-"

"Let's not do this right now. I don't want to talk about my profile or my security detail."

I glance at Charm sitting on one of the couches, typing rapidly on her phone.

"And I sure as hell don't want to talk about a book deal." I interlace  my fingers with Bristol's, tugging her close until I can see the onyx  starburst in her silvery eyes. "Don't be my manager for a minute. We're  about to live together, move across the country together. This is a big  step for us. Let's enjoy it like any other couple taking a big step."

She blinks up at me, a small breath shuddering past her lips. I cup her  neck, spearing my fingers into her hair, and have to remind myself there  are other people in the room.

"Can we just do that?" Emotion makes my voice husky as the truth of my  words sinks in. "These last two weeks away from you reminded me how much  I hated being apart when I was on tour this summer and you stayed in  LA."

She nods and squeezes my hand.

"You uprooting your life to come with me here to New York, it humbles  me, Bris." I swallow the warm knot in my throat. "Honestly, if you  hadn't agreed to come, I might not have pursued it and would have just  let this opportunity go."         

     



 

"I know." Her eyes are clear, completely at peace about her decision,  about her sacrifice. "And I would hate being the reason you didn't come  here for this."

I don't care that we aren't alone. I don't care that they already heard  Bris screaming with my head between her legs. Let them damn well think  what they like. I brush our lips together, running my tongue into the  corners of her mouth, kissing her with all the tenderness she inspires  inside of me, like no one ever has before.

"Don't stop knowing me better than everyone else does," I say between kisses.

It's our greatest intimacy, the way she knows me, accepts me. This is as  intimate as when I'm inside her. It's a closeness that goes beyond  bodies.

"I'm trying." She glances down at the flagstone floor.

"You don't have to try. You just know me."

"Well, you're changing, evolving . . . coming into yourself, into your  convictions." She lays one hand against my jaw. "It's awesome."

I don't get the chance to probe further because Mrs. O'Malley joins us, serving us both warm helpings of her smile.

"You two remind me so much of Patrick and me," she says. "We should have  been oil and water-me, the reserved only child from a good Jewish  family, and Patrick, so loud and boisterous from his Roman Catholic clan  of brothers and sisters. Neither of our families were thrilled about us  being together."

Her assessing glance bounces between Bristol's face and mine, and then drifts down to our joined hands.

"We didn't care." Her shoulders lift as if to say c'est la vie. "We knew. We loved. We did what we wanted to do."

She casts a wistful look around the enclosed patio.

"This place, our home, was our last project together."

"Project?" Bristol asks.

"Yes, I was a designer and he was an architect." She laughs quietly as  if at a memory just for her. "We moved here when prices were much lower.  Best investment we ever made."

"So you designed and decorated this place?" I ask. It's gorgeous and  modern; I never would have imagined the owners designed it themselves.