Chapter 18
Carly
Ten Weeks
I barely manage to sleep.
I lie in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling in the dark before sunrise, replaying every terrible decision I made last night.
Every time I close my eyes, I’m right back there, in my doorway after the argument.
My brain replays the way he came across the hall like his self-control had finally snapped, the heat of him, the weight of him, the gravel in his voice when he’d said my name or called me sweetheart like it was second nature.
I groan and drag a pillow over my face. This cannot keep happening.
That thought hits me first around one in the morning, then again at two-thirteen, then three-forty, then four-ten when I finally throw my blanket off and sit up in bed like maybe I can physically outrun my own terrible judgment.
This is not some harmless little fling. He is my boss in two different roles. He is also annoyingly, unfairly, catastrophically good at making my brain turn to mush.
By the time I shove myself out of bed to get Pen ready for school, I’ve gotten maybe two hours of on-and-off sleep, and I’m exhausted, irritable, and weirdly furious with my vagina for caving so easily when he kissed me properly.
I shove myself out of bed, drag on leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, and shove my hair up into a bun. If I’m going to be the only adult in this house with any common sense, I should at least look moderately alive while I do it.
Grayson’s usually either already left for work or finishing his morning swim around now, depending on how early he got up.
Maybe I can get Pen ready for school, get through the morning, and figure out how to have a calm, rational, deeply professional conversation later without running into him and being forced to look at his stupidly attractive face.
I head downstairs without thinking much beyond waffles, lunchboxes, and whether I’ll have time to stop and talk to Zoe before having to somehow pretend to be a person at work.
I walk into the kitchen and stop dead.
Grayson is there.
He’s standing near the island in a dark henley and slacks like he got half dressed for work before deciding to take it slow this morning. He turns when he hears me, and there is not even a flicker of awkwardness on his face, not shame, not regret. Not even panic.
He just lifts a mug of coffee and holds it out to me, and for a second, I just stare.
The coffee steams between us.
I begrudgingly take the mug because I’m desperate for caffeine. Part of me wants to say thank you, but the other part that is far larger wants to hit him upside the head with it, so I stay quiet.
His gaze stays on mine for a beat too long, then drops briefly to the mug in my hands. “Pen’s watching cartoons in my room. She wanted waffles.”
I blink.
There is, in fact, two waffles in the toaster oven.
Of course there is. Of course this man, after fucking me like he has arms and abs of steel, after apparently sleeping just fine through the aftermath, is being a good dad and making breakfast for his kid like nothing happened last night.
I set the mug down before I listen to that large part of myself. “We need to talk about—”
“We’re going to a party after work.”
My mouth shuts.
He reaches for the coffee pot, tops off his own mug, and says it like he’s informing me about the weather. “Penelope’s going over to a friend’s after school. We can pick her up on the way home.”
I stare at him. “Excuse me?”
“It’s my friend’s two-year sobriety party.”
That startles me enough to cool my temper by maybe three degrees.
“His wife is hosting. It’s just a small group, people I know.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “And why, exactly, are you telling me this like I don’t have a choice?”
His jaw shifts. “Because you’re coming.”
“You can’t just act like—”
“You look like you didn’t sleep.”
I blink at him. “Wow. Thanks.”
“I’m serious.” His voice stays maddeningly even. “Take the day off.”
That throws me hard enough that it takes me a second to process it, but then it clicks. He’s trying to sweeten the deal, trying to smooth over what happened last night with coffee and concern and this oddly calm, dominant act.
As if being thoughtful the morning after we both fucked up is somehow going to erase it.
I fold my arms over my chest. “I have work to do.”
“I know what your schedule looks like.” He takes a sip of his coffee like this conversation is perfectly normal. “It’s easy today. You can join the meeting online from here and relax for the rest of it. Maybe take a nap.”
“So that’s your plan?” I ask, a short, disbelieving little laugh creeping out. “We’re just going to not talk about what happened, and you’re going to put me on paid bed rest because I look tired?”
His jaw tightens, just slightly, and for one split second I think maybe I’ve finally cracked that maddening composure.
“Good morning!” Dammit. Penelope, bless her, has the worst timing. She launches herself at my hip when she rounds the kitchen entryway in her Bluey pajamas. “Daddy’s making me waffles.”
“Waffles are almost done,” Grayson says, pulling down a plate from the pantry. His gaze drifts over to me again as Penny scrambles up onto one of the breakfast bar chairs. “Be ready by six tonight.”
* * *
At six on the dot, I come downstairs in the only ’nice-casual’ clothes I still own after the move out of Aaron’s — a little black tennis skirt that had been scrapped from last year’s production line, a dark grey sweater, tights, and boots. Grayson had texted me the dress code earlier.
He’s waiting by the door in those same dark slacks from this morning, a dark green sweater that does frankly ridiculous things to his eyes, and a leather jacket over the top.
His gaze lifts to me, holding mine. It’s not the same kind of stare he’d leveled at me in my bedroom, but something in the way his brows lift makes my stomach flip.
“You look nice,” he says. “Less tired.”
I grab my coat from the hooks by the door. “Thanks,” I mumble.
He’s more chatty on the drive than I expected.
He tells me he’s known Cole for years, that he was in the worst hole of his life a few years ago, and that his now-wife, Dana, and his son, Drew, inspired him to get clean.
He tells me a few of their friends, Jackson and Mandy, are coming, and Jackson’s friend Wade and his wife, Ray, are driving down from their ski resort.
He tells me that this is casual and private, that we don’t need to hide anything in front of them.
“Are you expecting me to just blurt out that you fucked me last night?” I ask, glancing over at him as the bars for a gated community open in front of his Aston Martin.
His jaw ticks. “No. I just meant that we can relax.”
I brace myself for something that feels like the stress of a networking event as we park up in front of the house. To my utter surprise, I am wrong immediately.
When the door opens, a broad-shouldered man in jeans and a flannel grins and pulls Grayson into a one-armed hug.
“Gray. Was starting to think you weren’t coming.”
“Fuck off, you knew I was.” Grayson claps him on the back. “Happy two years, man.”
That must be Cole.
He steps back from Grayson’s hold and looks at me with open curiosity and immediate warmth before his eyes flick to Grayson, just for a second. “You must be Carly.”
I blink. He knows my name? “I am."
“I’ve heard so much about you. Nice to put a face to the name.”
Oh, god. For half a second, I wonder if that means he’s heard bad things — but it clicks. No, no, not bad things. Grayson’s been venting.
“Cole,” Grayson says, flat. “Shut your mouth.”
I shouldn’t laugh but one comes out anyway, and I cover it with my hand instinctually. Cole grins wider, clearly pleased with himself, and ushers us inside the house.
It’s about the same size as Grayson’s, warm, rustic in a way that Grayson’s isn’t. It feels more like a luxury chateau than a modern mansion, and it’s cosy, lived in, evidence of at least one child living here by the toys hidden in corners.
A woman with lightly tanned skin and brown hair intercepts us in the entryway before I can fully get my bearings.
She’s beautiful in that glowy, slightly sleep-deprived mom way, a tiny baby tucked against her chest in a wrap.
“Hi,” she says, smiling at me like we’re already friends. “I’m Dana. And this is Lucy.”
Her baby is absolutely adorable. She’s wearing a pink little hat, her cheeks round, her skin still a little wrinkly but starting to pudge out. She’s wide awake, but content, for now.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. “She’s perfect.”
Dana softens instantly. “I know. Don’t tell my two-year-old I said that.”
“Where is Drew?” Grayson asks, stepping up behind me, and I stiffen for just a second as his hand brushes the small of my back. “This is Carly, by the way, since she is apparently too dazzled with your daughter to introduce herself.”
I blink, then shoot him a glare. “I was getting to it.”
“Drew is with his nanny for the evening,” Dana says, lifting Lily’s arm to wave at me. I melt. “Which means this is the first gathering we’ve hosted in two years where no one will scream over chicken nuggets.”
“Give it time,” Cole says from somewhere behind us. “Reckon it’ll be Jackson or Gray having a meltdown that we haven’t cooked any.”
There are maybe a dozen people here. There are no stiff introductions, no performative congratulations — just food spread out over the kitchen counters, non-alcoholic drinks in people’s hands, and laughter.
I meet Jackson, who somehow manages to look both intimidating and deeply entertained at all times, and Mandy, who is instantly my favorite because she compliments my sweater and steals a deviled egg off a passing tray. “Ignore the billionaire energy. They travel in packs,” she whispers to me.
“I heard that,” Jackson says.
“You’re annoyingly attentive,” she shoots back.
Wade arrives ten minutes later, his wife, Ray, on his arm. He shakes my hand when Grayson introduces me, and he immediately asks if I ski.
“Uh,” I say, trying to process the immediate and random question.
“That’s what you lead with?” Gray laughs, rolling his eyes as he pats him on the shoulder.
The night keeps unfolding around me. Jackson tells a story so dryly that it takes me ten full seconds to realize it’s a joke.
Mandy ropes me into a conversation about design since she works in interior design, and immediately starts asking questions about my work that make me feel seen in a way I didn’t expect.
Wade talks about the resort like it’s his favorite place in the world, and Ray leans over the back of the couch to wrap her arms around his neck, listening with a smile.
Dana sits cross-legged on the sofa with Lucy asleep on her chest, looking happier than any exhausted person has a right to, while Cole kisses the side of her head like it’s second nature.
And through all of it, nobody makes me feel like an outsider. Nobody acts like I’m a guest Grayson brought out of obligation. Nobody treats me like the quiet little employee in the corner.
Somewhere between the second round of appetizers and Cole mock-arguing with Grayson over the best college football stadium in the country, I hear myself laugh wholeheartedly without thinking about it first.
I catch Grayson watching me from across the room. And to my absolute surprise, he’s smiling. Smiling. At me.
My laughter dies off, my eyes locked on him as Cole keeps talking. It’s not a huge smile, but it’s small, soft, private. It changes his whole face, makes him appear gentler, kind, and not at all like the hothead who fucked me against the wall last night.
I look away first.
“You two should come up to Colchester in a couple of weeks,” Wade offers as the evening starts winding to a close. I’m halfway through putting my jacket back on, but I pause with one arm through the hole.
“Oh, uh, maybe,” I say, not sure what the right response is. I don’t even know if half of these people know that I’m just his employee.
“It’d be fun,” Mandy cuts in. “Fresh snow, good food. We could make a weekend of it, tack it on to Cole’s celebrations. We can make all the bad decisions.”
“Some of us are trying to make fewer bad decisions,” Cole says dryly.
“Okay, moderate decisions,” Mandy corrects.
Grayson comes up behind me, grabs his coat from the rack, and slips his arms inside. “We’ll come.”
I blink up at him, confusion whirling in my brain already. He agreed, just like that, no fuss, no confusion, no concern.
“What, you don’t want to embarrass yourself on the slopes?” He says, his lips tilting up at the corner as his hand comes to rest at the small of my back again. The heat of it melts through my shirt, and I have to control my breathing to keep my pulse in check.
“I—N-no, I’m down,” I stutter, forcing myself to be a person.
“Good. Put your jacket on. We’ve gotta get Penny.”
Wade nods, satisfied. “I’ll check the calendar and let you know. Make sure we’ve got rooms for everyone.”
I get through the last few minutes of goodbyes on edge, but still feeling welcome. And as we’re walking to the car through the falling snow, I can feel something inside of me shift.
That sense of belonging and ease with his friends might be more dangerous than everything else. More than the sex, more than the secrecy, more than the fact that my boss can look at me across a crowded room and somehow make my pulse spike and my chest ache.
I like this. I like him. Even with the infuriating confidence that makes me want to throw something at his head and climb him like a tree.
I like the way he shows up for his friends.
I like that his daughter adores him and vice versa.
I like that he brought me here without making it weird, then let me find my footing without hovering.
I like these people, like the way Dana let me hold Lily like she trusted me, like Mandy’s sharp humor and Wade’s easy charm and the way Cole says Gray like they’ve known each other through all highs and lows.
And tonight, surrounded by all of it, only solidified how much I want life and friendships to feel like this.
It isn’t just that I want him.
It’s that I might want the life that comes with him, too.