I’m conflicted. I know he’s right, but I also know that I’ll be a mess without the outlet and the grounding that the early morning run provides.
“I’ll help you find other ways to get to the same place,” he continues. “This is going to be a challenge. For both of us. We talked about it at the beach. Nothing’s changed now that we’re back in the city. If anything, it’s going to be harder while we prepare.” My phone slides off the edge of the sofa, and he picks it up and places it near me, giving my hand a quick squeeze. “Normally I would tell you to enjoy the ride, but in this case, I think you need to keep your focus on the endgame.”
“I’m a simple girl from Mississippi,” I admit candidly. It’s been eating at me all evening. “You said so yourself. I’m never going to be royalty or a high-society type. It’s not baked in. What if the princess doesn’t want to have anything to do with me? What happens then?”
Gray swoops me off the sofa, and deposits me on the bar in the corner of the room. It happens so fast I barely have time to protest.
“Listen to me. You’re a smart, well-educated, beautiful woman.” We’re eye to eye and he doesn’t let me look away. “You’re not a princess. You’re a damn queen. A badass queen. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel less than that.”
I don’t know where to look, so I glance down at my toes. There’s a pedicure on my schedule for tomorrow. Good thing, too.
“What is it?” he asks, lifting my chin.
I push his hand away. “Nothing,”
“I’ve told you, I’m not a mind reader.” He nudges my thighs apart and steps between them, his hands resting low on my hips. “I want to know what you’re thinking.”
“I need some fresh polish on my toes.”
His eyes are steady and probing. He’s not buying any of it. I don’t know where to begin—or even if I want to talk about it at all. But I force myself, because of all those faces on the cards. Because we have to work through our challenges if we’re going to be successful—for them.
“You—make me feel less than that.” The words come slowly. It takes some doing to pry them loose, but I’m determined. “Not when I worked for you—but—when you talk about me being a simple girl from Mississippi, or learning how to fight in a trailer park. Those comments cut to the quick. Not because they’re a lie, or even because I’m ashamed of my roots, but because you use them as a weapon to hurt me.”
He blinks a few times, his long, dark lashes casting spiky shadows on his cheeks. There’s sorrow in his face. It’s what I’ve always adored about him, even from the beginning. He feels empathy. He knows compassion. When I reach out to smooth a worry line with my fingertips, Gray takes my hand and brings it to his lips.
“Say the rest. I need to hear it. All of it.” His voice is low and rough, like it gets when there’s too much emotion stirring inside him.
I’m not sure I want to say the rest. I don’t know how to share it with him in a way that he’ll understand. The feelings are right there, on the surface. I can touch them. But the words—searching for the right words is like playing a matching game. At the beginning, there are so many cards and it’s only sheer luck when you turn over a match. That’s how this seems. I’m holding the feeling card, but I can’t find the word to match.
“Hey,” he says softly.
His gaze is alert and steady, and I know he’s not going to let me off the hook. And maybe I don’t want to be let off the hook. I sigh, and somehow find the words to pair with my fears and insecurities.
“I’ve worked hard to trim the scraggly edges and shed the outer layers, because it makes people more accepting—more comfortable around me. But it’s who I am inside. A simple girl from the poorest corner of the South.” The facts aren’t new to either of us, but saying the words out loud is freeing, and the more matches I make, the easier it gets. I don’t stop.
“Nobody pulls themselves up without help. I had some, too. But I paid my dues,” I say proudly. “I never took anything that didn’t belong to me, and I never cheated. That simple girl is proud and loyal, and she might not be for everyone, but she informs the woman I am—every single day. I don’t want that to change. But it doesn’t mean that in some situations I don’t feel small and like less.”
After I stop talking, it’s quiet. Not just silent, but still. My soul feels like it’s been wrenched open, exposing all the oddities, the nicks and bruises. He doesn’t say anything for what feels like forever, but it isn’t awkward. The silence is productive and healing. At least for me.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is tight, but he has the courage to look right at me when he speaks. “So sorry.” It’s earnest and sincere. Gray smooths my hair in a way that I suspect soothes him. In a small way, it soothes me too.
“I don’t mean to make you feel that way,” he continues, rubbing his thumb along the curve of my ear. “Although I suppose I did at the time. I wanted to get under your skin. But I don’t feel that you’re any less.” He lifts his heavy shoulders. “I’ve never felt that way. I’ve always felt that you’re more.”
I press my cheek into his hand.
“I don’t want you to change. I admire that girl. She’s infuriating at times, and I’m quite sure she’s going to be the death of me.” He pauses for a beat. “But she’s perfect. As is the woman she’s become. I’m the one who can do better.”
My eyes sting. But my heart is full. Not because the road is going to be smooth from now on—it isn’t—but because I didn’t make a mistake this time. I didn’t misjudge Gray. Although the fat lady hasn’t sung yet. Unlike with Kyle, I used my voice when it mattered, and this time, I hold all the power—even when it doesn’t appear that way.
“I’ll follow your lead,” I say softly. It’s not acquiescence. It’s a decision. My decision. It’s what I want. What I need. What we both need. And most importantly, what the mission requires. “I’ll reserve my input for the times when we’re alone. But you best bring your A game, because I’m not an easy woman.”
The grin spreads slowly across his beautiful face, before he throws his head back and laughs. The sound of his happiness makes me smile. Maybe it shouldn’t, but it does.
“Not easy?” he teases. “I’ve tangled with crocodiles less troublesome than you.”
I smile to myself. Adding a wrinkle to his carefully ordered life pleases me. But I’m sure it makes it difficult for him. Although maybe that’s not all there is to it. Maybe, just maybe, he’s attracted to me in a way that complicates the mission for him as much as it does for me. If by attracted you mean he wants to have dirty sex with your pretty face.
“I need a shower and you need to get some sleep,” he says, helping me off the bar. “You have yoga at five thirty, and a run late afternoon, if you’re not too tired by then.”
Well, what do you know? Rich boys from Charleston not only know how to apologize, they know how to compromise, too. I stop to appreciate his lean, muscular frame while he checks the locks and turns out the lights.