“But it’s the weekend?” she said. She of all people, my lawyer and lately my lover, should have known it didn’t matter what day of the week it was. Making money only worked when you didn’t stick to nine-to-five.
“It’s urgent. I’ll be back Sunday night,” I said. She nodded, and turned her attention back to the spaghetti, giving it a lot more concentration than it deserved. When she didn’t say anything else, I tugged at my tie.
“I’m going to hop in the shower,” I said. “You’re welcome to join me.”
Her head snapped round and her eyes were guarded. Her face closed and I swallowed, feeling like an idiot. The words had slipped out. It was habit, we used to be a lot closer, a lot more intimate.
“I have to take care of this,” she said. I nodded. She could have just pulled the pot to the side and left it. She could have made a plan. But she didn’t want to. I wondered why. We’d slept together well before we’d moved in together. We’d been dating on and off for almost a year before it became official. Or rather, exclusive. But she didn’t want to be with me now, not that intimately.
A part of me prayed it wasn’t subconscious, she was just not better yet.
Chapter 13 - Grace
I tried, I really did. I knew that I’d chosen him. That was very clear – he couldn’t understand why I couldn’t be close with him the way I apparently was, and Justin wanted nothing to do with me.
Neither of them wanted to tell me what had really happened, but I knew enough to know that even if it didn’t make sense to me now, it had to have made sense then.
I wanted to try for him. He deserved that much. Since I’d woken up in the hospital, he’d been attentive and caring, and kind. He’d paid for all the medical bills, the hotel even though I rejected him, and everything that I wanted or needed from then on. And he tried to spend time with me without making me feel uncomfortable.
And when I needed to be alone he left me alone. It happened a lot more than I thought was appropriate, but he didn’t fight me on it, even though I knew he was upset about it.
I wanted to take a drive with him this weekend just to get out of the house. Just to spend some time with him away from everything that seemed to always get in the way. I wondered why I’d never noticed before how much his work was a part of his life. Of our lives, I corrected myself. I hadn’t noticed before that he was married to his job. Maybe it didn’t bother me then. Why did it bother me now?
After everything, pushing myself to try and be what he needed me to be, my own efforts to get back to a point where I understood my own decision – the only thing I felt when he told me he had to leave for work this weekend, was relief.
He was only going to be gone for two days. But it was two days of freedom for me. Two days where I didn’t have to feel like I was trespassing in someone’s house, where I didn’t have to feel like I had to tiptoe around the facts of the past, around his feelings.
Everything was awkward with him. Maybe I was making it awkward. Or maybe it was because I was pushing for something more than was real for me right now. No one could force a relationship. It was why I hadn’t settled for either of the men as far as I could remember.
As much as Elijah was a thrill because he had an edge of danger to him, Justin was the valiant cowboy. It was difficult to say no to either of them. I always felt torn because there were parts of them I still didn’t know, parts that I still wanted to find before I made my decision.
At least, that was where I still was. Apparently I’d already made my decision. I’d chosen Elijah. But I still wanted Justin. I still wanted to find out more about him, find the parts of him that made him Justin. I leaned toward Justin in my decision. How could it be that I’d ended up with Elijah instead? There was nothing wrong with him. He just wasn’t… Justin.
I couldn’t make it work in my mind. I couldn’t figure it out. Why hadn’t I just chosen Justin from the start if I was so sure that he was the one I’d wanted to be with? Why had I kept trying with Elijah?
I knew the answer to that. I liked who I was with both of them. They each brought a side out in me that I liked. With Justin I was allowed to be the damsel in distress, the woman that needed rescuing. It was okay to not be okay. It was okay to need help. It was okay to need a man in the same way a man needed a woman.
With Elijah it was the opposite. He expected me to be independent, fierce, a go-getter. And a part of me was. A part of me wanted to give him exactly that.
I woke up and heard Elijah walking down the hallway. The sun wasn’t up yet, but there was a hint of dawn. His flight was very early. I listened to his low voice, talking to the housekeeper who had to be up when he was up. And then I heard the front door open, and close again a moment later.
His car started with a quiet hum and then I heard him reverse, turn around, and then drive down the driveway. I couldn’t hear the car by the time it reached the gate, but I knew he had gone.
I sighed, feeling that same sense of relief I’d felt last night when he’d announced he was leaving, and closed my eyes, letting sleep pull me back under.
I woke up a lot later. The sun glowed against my white drawn curtains and the room was hot, like the sun had baked against the window for a while. I got out of bed and walked barefoot down the hallway. The cook had left a tray with a silver dome on the counter for me.
When I lifted it up, it was a breakfast quiche, some yogurt and fruit, and orange juice. It was all very fancy. I was still trying to get used to how I was being treated here, like I was a guest in a five star hotel. I was still trying to figure out how I’d been comfortable with this before.
I’d just started eating when my phone rang. It was Justin. I knew he didn’t want me. I knew that I’d rejected him. But I got butterflies in my stomach and I pressed the talk button, swallowing the contents of my mouth in a lump.
“Hey,” I said and tried not to sound like I was overjoyed he’d called.
“How are you doing?” he asked. We hadn’t spoken since the night at the hotel.
“I’m okay. Better, physically. Not much else to report, no new memories. Or should I say old memories.”
“That’s good,” he said, and I could picture him nodding his head the way he would if we were standing face to face. “I mean that you’re doing better. Physically Not about the memories.” He cleared his throat. We sounded like teenagers.
“How are you holding up?” I asked. Anything to make conversation.
It seemed like a silly thing to ask. I’d dumped him, and he’d made it clear that he didn’t want me. But I didn’t know what else to say. Telling him I missed him didn’t seem like the right thing to do anymore.
“I’m alright, business as usual at the ranch and that keeps me busy,” he said.
I nodded too, even though he couldn’t see me. I wanted to talk, really talk. I wanted to be able to have a conversation without things being so damned strained. I wanted to know if he was still the man I thought he was, if he still thought I was the same girl. But there was an awkward silence.
“I’m home alone this weekend,” I said, and kicked myself immediately because it came out wrong. “I mean, I just… shit.”
He chuckled on the other end of the line, a sound that was so familiar it made my chest constrict.
“It’s okay. I didn’t take it that way.” He took a deep breath, hesitating. I waited for him. He was quiet for long enough that I wondered if he was still there.
“I really wish we could just sort out what happened,” I said. “I don’t even know, and I feel like I should feel guilty, but I don’t know for what.”
“You don’t have anything to feel guilty about,” he said. “These things just happen sometimes. I mean, you’re happy, right?”
He didn’t say it in a way that was really a question, but I started crying. I wasn’t happy at all.
“Grace?” he asked. I tried to swallow my tears.
“I have to go,” I said with a thick voice and hung up. I pushed the breakfast away. I’d lost my appetite. I walked to the bedroom and fell onto the bed, feeling sorry for myself.
I buried my face in my pillow and cried like a teenager over a broken heart I couldn’t remember, over a man that didn’t want me anymore, over a man that wanted me that I just couldn’t see to love anymore.
The housekeeper called me over an hour later.
“There’s a visitor for you,” she said.
“Me, not Elijah?”
“Mr. Wilson is out of town. It’s for you. He’s waiting in the hall.”
I got up and checked myself in the mirror. The bruise was gone. The lump where I’d been hit in the accident had subsided without bruising and it was only tender when I touched it. I didn’t wear any makeup and I wasn’t going to put any on. I was still in my pajamas, a white satin top with lace trim and spaghetti straps and lace and satin shorts to match. I pulled a wine red robe over it. It was short sleeved and reached halfway down my thigh.