Thirty-one
Trinity
T he vintage lights of L’Abattoir cast the golden glow of gas lanterns over the cobbled streets, their reflections dancing on the rain-slick pavement in the Gastown neighborhood. The rideshare drops me, and I try to run between the raindrops. I’m a few minutes early.
I spot Greyson immediately, his back to the wall in the bar, scanning the room with that attentive gaze. Seeing him after everything that has happened is like a glimpse of sunlight after relentless rain. He springs up when he notices me, a smile blooming across his face as if he can’t quite believe I’m here.
In three long strides, he’s at my side, enveloping me in an embrace that’s both familiar and foreign. I inhale deeply. The scent of his cologne engulfs me, a mixture of cedar and something indefinably him. My heart flutters despite my resolve, and warmth rushes through my veins .
“Trinity,” he murmurs, voice muffled against my hair. “You look fantastic.”
“Thank you,” I say, pulling away before the comfort becomes too much. We follow the hostess and slide into a booth, the leather cool and smooth beneath me.
His drink arrives shortly thereafter, a lowball glass holding an amber liquid that catches the light. The server turns to me. “And for you, miss?”
“Sunshiny Day, please.” The words roll off my tongue after studying the menu earlier, trying to anticipate every detail of this evening.
“Interesting choice,” Greyson says once we’re alone. “What’s in it?”
“Rum, pineapple, lemongrass…”
“Sounds sweet,” he replies, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile that used to make my knees weak. “Just like you.”
I force a smile, ignoring the pang in my chest. Sweetness may not be enough to hold together what distance and circumstance have strained. I need to remain clearheaded. I take a deep breath and prepare myself in case what I receive tonight is closure, not rekindling. But still, a part of me thrills at his compliment, yearning for the simplicity of our past before reality intruded, before Anita and work and my mother’s illness forced our hands.
“Greyson…” I start, ready to steer us toward the conversation that looms, but I stop myself. Let’s let him tell me why he’s here. I don’t need to jump the gun. For now, we’re just two people, sharing a drink. I pick up the menu and force myself to comprehend the words printed there.
My drink arrives, and Greyson gives me the update on his family and the vineyard. He’s also been stopping in to see Mom, as a friend, though, he’s quick to clarify, not as her doctor, according to my wishes. He feels like she’s improving, which is great news, but then he shifts uncomfortably in his seat .
Maybe he doesn’t know how to tell me we’re through. He inhales deeply, his chest rising like he’s about to dive into uncharted waters. “Trinity, I’m sorry,” he begins, and there’s a tremor in his voice that resonates with something deep inside me. “About Anita…I am.” His brow furrows, then smooths out as determination takes over. “But then again, I’m not. She—”
I brace myself, ready to deflect whatever justification he’s about to offer.
“—she made me see the truth.” His gaze never wavers from mine as if he’s willing me to understand. “I’m in love with you.”
The confession hangs in the air, and for a moment, I forget to breathe.
“I knew I didn’t want you to leave yet, but…” His voice cracks ever so slightly. “What I’d failed to realize is that I never want to be away from you.”
The tenderness in his eyes threatens to unravel me. But I can’t just cave. I’m not built to be someone’s afterthought. “We agreed at the beginning,” I say firmly, though my heart pounds a rhythm of longing.
He reaches across the table, and I put my hand in his, warm and reassuring. “You don’t have to move back to Paradise,” he says, cutting off my retreat before it can start. “I’ve got a friend from medical school working at Mercy Hospital here. I met with the emergency department head this afternoon, and they’re looking for someone. The job is mine if I want it.”
My mind whirls. Is he serious? Moving for me?
“Trinity, I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you,” he continues. “I’ll be right here until you have no doubt how much I love you.”
I sit stunned. Could it really be this simple? Greyson’s willingness to uproot his life stirs something deep inside me, equal parts awe and fear. What if his sacrifice becomes a burden? What if I can’t live up to the expectations of a love so unwavering? But even as doubt creeps in, his steady gaze soothes my fears, at least for the moment.
My throat tightens, words lodged somewhere between my heart and my lips. “I…I don’t understand,” I manage to whisper.
He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table’s edge, a soft intensity radiating from him. “I want to be with you, Trinity. That’s what I’m saying. If you’re staying in Vancouver, then so will I. I’ll work here, live here, whatever it takes, as long as we’re together.”
I blink at him, half expecting him to laugh it off, to say gotcha and ease the weight of his declaration. But there’s no humor in his gaze. “Is this some kind of joke?” I ask, though the tremor in my voice betrays my hope that it isn’t.
“No joke,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze. “I love you. And if you’re not there yet, if your heart still needs convincing, I’ll be here. I’ll wait for as long as it takes.”
I chew on my lower lip, his words swirling in my mind. Could I trust this? Trust him? Every instinct screams at me to protect my heart, but then the defenses I’ve clung to for so long begin to waver. I have to focus on what’s real, not what I’m afraid of. “What about your family? Your life in Paradise?”
Greyson’s eyes soften. “They’ll understand. They’ll support me,” he assures me. “Besides, it’s only a short flight away or a quick drive home.”
“Well…I’m working on securing a remote position, so I can be in Paradise for a while, until my mom is better or, at least, more stable.” I still don’t know for sure which it’s going to be.
He nods. “Then we’ll stay in Paradise until you’re ready. If you want to find a job in London, we’ll go there. The NIH is always looking for doctors,” he says. “I’ll find work and follow you wherever you want to go.”
His sheer determination finally dismantles the walls I’ve built around my heart. He’s offering me not just love, but a partnership to face whatever our future holds.
“Okay.” I nod slowly, and something warm begins to bloom inside me, hope mingling with gratitude and a tinge of awe at this man who wants to chart our course together.
Greyson stands, pulling me to my feet and into a firm, decisive kiss, a silent pledge that echoes in the space where our breath mingles.
Pulling back, he gazes down at me, a playful twinkle returning to his eyes. “I’ve got my eyes on the beef tartare,” he announces as if nothing else in the world could be of more importance at this moment.
“The cod looked good to me,” I reply, finally allowing myself a small smile.
He flags down the server with a casual wave, and we place our orders, sealing our decision with the mundane act of choosing what to eat. And yet, there’s nothing ordinary about tonight. Because even as we navigate the menu, we’ve also negotiated the contours of a future that suddenly feels wide open.
The breeze swirls around us as we ascend the concrete steps leading to my apartment, a three-story walk-up nestled in the heart of Kitsilano. Greyson’s hand rests lightly on the small of my back, a touch I’ve missed more than I care to admit.
“Never thought I’d find myself in a neighborhood this hip,” he quips, his breath forming clouds in the crisp night.
I roll my eyes at his attempt at humor, a familiar dance between us. “You’re just fine,” I assure him, unlocking the door. It swings open to reveal my one-bedroom sanctuary, cozy with its compact kitchen and living room. A sigh of relief escapes me. At least, it’s clean.
He follows me inside and takes a seat on the worn-out couch that has been my companion through many solitary evenings. His presence already makes it feel less lonely. But I don’t know what to do with myself. “Would you like some water? I think that’s all I have.”
“Come here,” he says softly, crooking his finger, beckoning me closer.
A current runs through me at his words. I cross the room, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. As I stand before him, my fingers find the hem of my dress, lifting it just enough for me to straddle his lap.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, his voice laced with an emotion that grips my heart and refuses to let go. He leans forward, his teeth catching the delicate spaghetti strap of my dress, tugging it down my shoulder with a tantalizing slowness.
His lips find the softness of my breast, and a shiver courses through me, a mix of desire and the aching vulnerability. My body responds of its own accord, hips pressing down against the undeniable evidence of his desire. The sensation sends a wave of heat coursing through my veins, and in this moment, I am acutely aware of how much time we’ve wasted apart. But even as coherent thought becomes difficult for me, I realize that, like he explained earlier, this challenge was important for both of us. It’s pushed us to see that what we have is real.
Greyson’s mouth works its magic, awakening every nerve ending with the warmth of his tongue, and I’m home. Despite the doubt, the hurt, and the distance, this is where I belong, —in the arms of the man who holds my heart.
Greyson’s arms wrap around me, and he lifts me from the couch. The world tilts as he carries me through over the threshold and into my bedroom.
He lays me down with reverence, and I watch, breathless, as he slides off the last barrier to our intimacy. My thong, a flimsy piece of fabric, is no match for his deft fingers.
On his knees now, Greyson worships at the altar of my body. I am splayed open before him, vulnerable yet empowered by his desire. His tongue flits across my clit, a whisper of sensation that builds to a crescendo with each flick and suckle. He takes me deep into his mouth, and I am lost to the waves of pleasure that crash through me, relentless and all-consuming.
“God, yes,” escapes my lips as his fingers plunge inside me, finding a rhythm that drives me toward the edge. Every stroke, every curl is a step closer to oblivion. And then, the climax shatters me, a starburst of ecstasy.
As tremors ripple through my spent body, Greyson stands, practically ripping away his clothes. His raw masculinity is on full display, and my gaze locks on his cock—stroked by his own hand, ready.
He pushes into me, and a guttural groan vibrates from the depths of his throat. His body is a testament to restrained power, muscles taut as he enters me slowly, inch by inch. I gasp at the sensation. I stretch to accommodate him and feel complete, so utterly possessed.
“Trinity,” he breathes.
With each thrust, I become more acutely aware of how we fit together. My fingers find his chest, trace the contours of his skin, and play with the barbell through his nipple. A tweak elicits a sharp intake of breath, and a deliciously pained expression crosses his face for a moment before he plunges deeper inside me. “God, I’ve missed this…missed you,” I whisper against his lips, capturing them in a searing kiss.
“Never again,” Greyson vows between fervent kisses, his movements becoming more insistent. “I never want anyone but you.”
The space around us shrinks until there’s nothing but the sound of our bodies colliding, an urgent rhythm that echoes off the walls. The world beyond is lost in the haze of our reunion.
And with every slap of skin on skin, with every shared breath, I know this is where I’m meant to be, in the arms of the man who has become my heart’s true north.
The next morning, the light in my condo is dim, the soft hum of the refrigerator filling the silence. Greyson left early this morning to return to Paradise, and I’ve been sitting in this worn leather armchair for what feels like hours, my journal open on my lap. The pen in my hand hovers over the page, poised to write, but the words won’t come. Because I don’t know what to say. Or maybe, I don’t want to say it.
I stare at the blank page, its emptiness mocking me. It feels like a metaphor for everything I’ve been avoiding—my future, my feelings, Greyson.
Greyson .
Even thinking his name makes my chest tighten. The weight of everything he’s offered me, everything he’s asked of me, presses down like a stone. He wants us to stay together, to build something together. He wants me to trust him. And that’s the hardest part.
Trust.
I set the pen down, my fingers curling into fists. While I’m thrilled with the possibilities this opens for us, trusting someone means letting them in, letting them see the cracks and imperfections I’ve spent years hiding. It means giving them the power to hurt me. And after everything, after the years of building walls and convincing myself I was better off alone, I don’t know if I can.
But then I think of Greyson.
The way he looks at me, like I’m the answer to a question he didn’t know he was asking. The way he challenges me, frustrates me, makes me laugh when I want to scream. He doesn’t just see me. He sees through me. And that’s terrifying.
Because what if he’s wrong? What if I’m not the woman he thinks I am? What if I can’t be enough for him, for his life, for this…thing we’ve built?
But what if I am?
The thought slips in, uninvited, and I can’t shake it. What if I’m enough? What if I don’t have to do this alone anymore?
I close my eyes, pressing my palms against my knees. The truth is, I’m tired. Tired of pretending I don’t need anyone. Tired of holding everything together with both hands and pretending it doesn’t hurt when things fall apart.
Greyson isn’t asking me to give up who I am. He’s asking me to let him in, to let him help carry the weight. And I want that.
I pick up the pen again, my hand trembling as I write the words that have been circling in my mind.
What if trusting him doesn’t make me weaker? What if it makes me stronger?
The tears come then, hot and fast, spilling onto the page. I let them fall. I let myself feel the fear and the hope and the ache of wanting something I’ve spent so long convincing myself I didn’t need.
When the storm has passed, I wipe my eyes and stare at the words on the page. They feel like a question and an answer all at once.
Trusting Greyson is a risk. But it’s a risk worth taking.