Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Faye
“Oh, no,” I whisper.
“Is that—?”
“Courtney,” the woman next to me, Veronica, says. I just met her today and she came with her sweet son, Alex.
And also with Ryan.
Whose behavior is…well…
Protective.
And maybe a bit possessive.
Hmm.
But I can’t let my author brain get ahead of me. There’s something closed-off about Veronica, as though she won’t ever—ever—be open to what Ryan wants to offer.
Yet, Ryan’s still here. Well, he and Alex are in the back yard, kicking around a soccer ball.
So…hmm.
“That’s Courtney?” Luna asks aghast, and something that had gone stiff inside me, a tight knot of unpleasantness, loosens. Partly because of her tone—the clear disbelief—but also because, even as close as these people all are, Courtney isn’t part of them.
But I am.
Or maybe, more accurately, I could be.
My heart rolls over in my chest.
“That’s Courtney,” Veronica confirms.
“But she’s so…”
“Beautiful?” I murmur.
Luna’s eyes flick to mine and my heart rolls back the other way when she shifts a little closer, pressing her thigh against mine, silently comforting me. “Yes,” she says softly, her gaze flicking to mine. “But also…very not Gray.”
Veronica tilts her head to the side, but it’s Kailey who speaks.
“They don’t fit,” she murmurs.
I study Courtney, the beautiful blond woman with a gorgeous body. Her hair is sleek, sitting in perfect beachy waves. Her clothes are sophisticated and compliment her slender curves. She could be on the cover of magazines, could have tens of thousands of followers on Instagram.
And though Gray is equally as gorgeous…
Kailey is right.
They don’t fit.
Maybe it’s the calculation written so clearly on her face.
Maybe it’s because she doesn’t seem to care that she’s hurting Gray.
Maybe it’s just…Courtney.
I’m internalizing that—and trying not to immediately discount the thought that I fit Gray and that’s why I’m here right now, why I’m not fighting the growing connection between us—when Smitty, Aiden, and Leo move to intercept Courtney, ensuring they do it while keeping themselves between her and Gray.
And there my heart goes again.
Protecting him.
Looking out for him.
I should be there, should be beside him.
Even as those thoughts are sliding through my mind, I’m rising, moving over to Gray, lacing my fingers through his.
Think that—yes—he and I fit.
He glances down, expression drawn, eyes full of shame, that gorgeous mouth of his pressed flat.
Retreating.
I shift closer to his side and his lids slide closed for a beat, his big body moving on a breath. “Red,” he murmurs, and yup, the shame is riding him hard.
“This isn’t your fault,” I murmur.
“I’m the one who—” He seems to catch himself. “I’m the one who married her.”
“Faye is right,” Luna says, coming up on my other side, her hand on her belly. “She wants to make a scene.” A shrug. “Let her have her scene.”
Gray blanches. “This is your shower. My shit—”
Luna ignores him, cutting off the rising conversation in front of us by calling, “Aiden, honey?”
Aiden turns concerned eyes her direction.
“Do you want to make the introductions?”
He sighs, but his lips curve upward. “Luna, this is Courtney. Courtney, my wife, Luna.”
Courtney sniffs. “Do I care?”
“Considering you barged into my house, you should,” Luna replies, so sweetly, it seems to take a moment for Courtney to process the words.
Her chin lifts. “I need to speak to Gray.”
Luna turns to Gray. “Do you want to speak to her?”
“Considering I dropped our signed divorce papers off to my lawyer a few days ago,” he says tersely. “Fuck no.”
“There,” Luna chirps. “See? You came. You saw. Now you’re going to walk your much-skinnier-than-mine-currently ass out the door.”
Another pause, as though the wheels are slowly turning, as though Courtney had a plan for exactly how this would proceed and now that it’s out the window, she doesn’t know how to react.
I’m learning that Luna is the type of person to always keep everyone around her guessing.
So, Courtney doesn’t stand a chance.
Especially when her only response is to lift her chin, cross her arms, and—yup, seriously—stomp her foot. “I’m not leaving.”
Luna shrugs her shoulders. “Suit yourself.” A nod to the nearest platter of food. “You hungry?”
“Tiny tornado,” Aiden warns.
If that isn’t a fitting nickname for the other woman…
My lips twitch and I don’t miss Gray relaxing next to me.
“What?” Luna asks, shrugging her shoulders. “We have plenty.”
“I’ll not leaving until I talk to Gray!”
Smitty interjects before Luna can—or maybe, it’s that the two hooligans are pulling a one-two punch that not even the most determined shit-stirrer can top. He twists his big body our direction. “Say hi, Gray.”
“Hi,” Gray parrots.
“There,” Smitty says. “You talked to Gray. Now”—he grabs a sandwich, shoves it in her hand—“you can go.”
He doesn’t touch her, but he somehow manages to shepherd her toward the door.
A door which she grabs the edge of, halting everyone’s progress.
Leo sighs. “Why does this shit always happen here?”
“I have a gift for drama,” Luna quips.
“I’ll get her out of here,” Gray says, taking a step forward.
“Nope.” A wave of her hand as Smitty and a couple of men in suits that scream expensive!
(I think someone said their names are Jean-Michel and Jace) maneuver her outside, the front door miraculously closing behind them.
Courtney’s protests grow loud enough to be heard through the wood.
“Trust me on this,” she says. “There’s no need to engage and give her what she wants.
You stay here while she has her scene. The boys will make sure she hits the road when she’s done. ”
“Luns, she’s my problem—”
“And we don’t do solo shit,” Aiden says firmly, as though reminding Gray of something (like, perhaps, words they’ve exchanged before). “Right?”
Gray sighs.
But, likely because Aiden and Luna are making sense, he relents—albeit begrudgingly.
“All right,” he grumbles.
“Good,” Luna chirps. “I’ll leave you in the very capable hands of Faye…” Her head tilts to the side. “Wait, I don’t actually know your last name.”
“It’s Sullivan,” I tell her.
She freezes. “Sullivan? You’re not related to Faye Sullivan, the author, are you?”
“Um…” Nerves beginning to twine through my belly, I glance at Gray then back at her. “I am her.”
“Wait, you’re Faye Sullivan?!” she exclaims.
The room grows quiet, all the remaining eyes turning to me.
Focusing on me.
And I just want the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
Not because I’m ashamed of what I do, but because everyone is looking and I’ve spent the majority of the last years with my fictional family, so this much attention is…uncomfortable.
Like a too-tight sweater.
Plus, there’s always a weird dynamic when people find out I’m a writer, especially of romance.
The expectations, the snide comments, the offers to inspire me.
I don’t think that Luna will be like that, but then again, I don’t know her that well.
“Yes, I am,” I say, lifting my chin.
There’s a beat of quiet.
Then she’s fist-pumping with a whoop, bouncing excitedly on her toes. “Oh, my God! That is so cool! Would you sign my books?”
“Um”—I slant a glance at Gray, whose face has softened, the Courtney effect already waning, same as the scent of her perfume is fading from the room, the volume of her protests through the front door—“sure.”
“Awesome!” She whirls around, hurries toward the hall. “I think I have almost all of them in the library. I’ll go grab them.”
“Wait, what about the shower?”
“Eh.” She waves a hand. “There’s plenty of time for games later. How often do I get to meet someone who writes killer books and will sign them for me.”
Then she’s zipping out of the room.
Gray and I follow her—a good thing, it turns out. Because she does have almost all of my books.
And since there are several dozen of them on the shelf, we don’t let the pregnant lady grab them.
Gray pulls them down, I sign them, and he puts them back.
Thus, the chaos outside fades into laughter and the satisfying sound of pages turning as we chatter about Luna’s favorite characters and I make recommendations to Kailey and Veronica about which books I think they’d like.
Then I do the same for Aiden’s mom, Luna’s work friends, and for the wives of the suited men who helped the Grizzly men escort Courtney outside. And carefully, for Bri, who is technically an adult, but a young one.
I even make recommendations for the caterer, Harper, when she brings in a tray of desserts because the guys eventually get rid of Courtney and join us in the library.
(FYI, signing fifty books along interspersed with chatting and reading expectations takes a while).
Still, even as I’m doing all of that, I make note of which books Luna is missing.
Not just because she has the others.
Not even because Gray is relaxed and smiling and right beside me instead of out front dealing with his ex.
And not even because she bought me pajamas and has done her best to make me feel included from the first moment I met her.
It’s because in this book-filled room, I know I’m no longer alone.
For once, I’m not the quest observer taking notes—I’m part of the story.
And maybe because I think a few more love stories will make a perfect gift for a mom-to-be.