Chapter 11
JILL
I’ve always been an active sleeper, which is why I wasn’t exactly expecting to wake up tucked beneath a very heavy, very male arm. Yet, here I am, very still and comfortable being this way.
The curtains are closed to block out the majority of the sun, only the tiny trickles of morning light appearing through the top and bottom.
It’s utterly silent, like the world is still sleeping outside of this room.
I’m on my side, facing the window with the thin hotel comforter resting over my shoulders and one knee bent in front of me, half-stretched out.
My toes are free of the blankets, and I wiggle them for a moment before sinking further into the strong body behind me.
The movement tugs at the soreness between my legs, making it flare.
I wince and pull my knee back, blinking quickly.
Slow, even breaths filter through my hair, warming my scalp.
It would seem that Grayson’s a cuddler, which .
. . isn’t surprising in the slightest. Even after what happened last night, I totally called this.
It seems like he’s still the man I expected, even with a few extra quirks and perks.
Releasing a breath, I reach up to rub my eyes.
Last night was intense. I don’t know if intense is even accurate.
It was insanity, really. From the touches under the table at dinner to the desperation I felt in the elevator and shit—everything that came afterward.
I mean, I let him bind my wrists with his belt and make me beg to be able to come.
None of what happened was what I expected from this trip. Not even close.
Regardless of my predisposed ideas, I think I prefer everything we did to anything that I could have ever imagined.
His every possessive touch, adoring gaze, and devoted kiss had me willing to do just about anything he asked with a loopy smile on my face and a “yes, sir.” Even now, when the morning-after clarity should be hitting and I expect to feel the shame spiral that usually follows a one-night stand, I feel nothing short of amazing.
Grayson isn’t just a guy I let buy me a few drinks at the bar and went home with only to sneak out before the sun rose.
This is my boss and, more importantly, my friend.
He’s the person who shows up after every snowfall with a shovel in hand and who notices when I forget to bring a lunch and orders me my favourite sandwich from the deli on the corner.
I’ve never once had to call and ask him to show up when I’m in need or give him a list of my regular orders at all the restaurants in town.
He listens, and he remembers. That’s who Grayson is.
Now, all of those things feel a bit heavier. Like they’ve held more significance than I’ve realized.
For three years, I’ve grown used to his presence in my life.
At first, it was just nice to have a familiar face that would smile at me from the office across the hall when I was having a rough day.
Ivy wasn’t working at the office then. It was just me, Grayson, and a few other employees whom I couldn’t really ever connect with.
Grayson was newer to the job than I was, but despite his intimidating size and the scowl I’d see him wear more often than not back then, I saw a kindness to him that made me feel calm.
Over the weeks and months, then years, that followed, we started speaking more, and eventually, he was making that first offer to come over and help clear my driveway after a near-Christmas snowball.
Of course, it was more like a weird joke then, considering Ivy was relating it to getting fucked, and he just so happened to be eavesdropping, but it was an innocent offer on his part nonetheless.
And since then, he’s made it a point to take care of me.
That’s what it is.
Now that I’ve ripped that ridiculous blindfold off my eyes, I can see that’s exactly what he was doing.
What started as coffee brought into my cubicle on days where I came into work with bags under my eyes soon grew into him building me that damn wooden holder for my garbage bins and driving by every week to make sure I had put them out onto the street on time.
My neighbours know his name, recognize his car, and jeez, even offer him a tin of cookies every Christmas with a red bow on top.
It shouldn’t have been surprising when he volunteered to help me at the wedding, nor should I have been shocked when I found myself happy that he had.
It was a relief as much as it was nerve-racking.
There are few people I would have enjoyed being with the way I have with Grayson.
And that . . . that should have been obvious.
So should the flutters I have as I lie here, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back. Not one thing feels out of place here, in his hold with the memory of him between my legs still hot in my mind. I want more of this, of him, and I think I have for months now. Maybe longer.
A small smile plays on my lips as I reach out and grab my phone from the nightstand. My sister’s messages aren’t exactly unexpected, considering how Grayson and I left dinner last night. I roll my eyes at the first one and gawk at the reply I certainly didn’t send.
Kate: Are you ok? Is it food poisoning? I told Mom not that nobody orders seafood the night before their wedding. Should I blame her for this???
Kate: Should I go up and check on you? Why haven’t you answered me?
Kate: HELLO!!!!! Jill!!!! Don’t make me call you Jillian.
Me: The seafood was an odd choice. I’m just sleeping it off. I’ll be good for tomorrow.
Kate: Thank God. Okay, sweet dreams. <3
It’s so clearly written by Grayson and not me that it’s a miracle my sister didn’t pick up on it. I blame our lack of recent relationship for that. What with all her time spent with Vince’s sisters . . .
I shake that bitter thought away and send a reply to the text she sent a few minutes ago.
Kate: Good morning! It’s wedding day! How are you feeling this morning?
Me: Good as new. It’s go time!
I’m a second away from locking my screen and setting my phone aside when another message appears. It pops up above our conversation, and my stomach sours.
Unknown: Can we talk before the wedding? I’m in the lobby. I don’t want any bad blood to ruin your sisters day.
It’s clearly James. After our breakup, I deleted his number and never looked back. Clearly, he didn’t do that same. Well, that or my mother gave it to him. Option two seems a bit more realistic.
Either way, it’s not exactly a bad idea. Despite what happened last night and the fact that speaking with him is the last thing I really want to do after waking up in Grayson’s arms, it would mean the chance to put things to rest. Indefinitely.
That’s the only reason I carefully lift Grayson’s arm from my waist and set it on the blankets between us before slipping out of bed.
The air is cool against my naked body as I pad across the room and snag my bag from the dresser.
I get dressed in the clothes I brought for the drive home tomorrow—baggy sweatpants and a hoodie to match—and sneak out into the hall.
Sneak isn’t technically the correct word, considering I’m not doing anything wrong.
The guilt creeping through me doesn’t seem to recognize that.
It feels all very one-night-stand-esque as I wait for the elevator to take me down to see my ex-boyfriend and send him a quick text to let him know I’m coming.
By the time the elevator arrives and starts to take me down to the first floor, I’m past feeling guilty. It’s grown far worse than that. There’s dread dripping like cold water down my spine like a warning for me to turn back around and crawl back into the arms I left far too early.
There’s no time to spin back around and hightail it out of here, though. The moment the doors open, James is there waiting.
He’s still wearing the same clothes as yesterday.
His dress pants are wrinkled just about everywhere, and the buttons on his shirt are mismatched, like he did them up in a hurry.
My eyes narrow on the lipstick mark on his collar and the bruise below it.
I blink a few times, as if that’ll help me gather my thoughts.
“Hey, Jill,” he says, smiling innocently.
I cautiously step out of the elevator. “Hi. You wanted to talk?”
“Yeah, want to go to my room? It’s just down the hall.”
I instantly shake my head. “No. We can talk by the vending machines.”
He looks like he wants to argue but opts out of pushing me. We make our way into the small alcove in the hall, and I cross my arms, leaning against the candy machine.
“It looks like you had a busy night,” I say before I can stop myself.
It isn’t jealousy or even so much as basic interest that spurs me to mention his dishevelled appearance, but rather the fact that he’s here as a guest of my family and doesn’t appear to have tried to behave.
He reads into it the opposite and smirks, seeming to grow taller. “Are you upset I didn’t invite you, Jill?”
“No. I had a great night in my room.”
“So, then what’s it matter to you if I was busy? You’d be surprised at the fun you can find in this town when you’re looking for it.”
I crinkle my nose and plaster myself to the vending machine. “What did you want to talk about, James? I came down so we could clear the air before the wedding, that’s it. If you’re not going to take this seriously, I’m going to go back upstairs to bed with my boyfriend.”
“You don’t have to keep up with this ruse right now. It’s just us. Admit that you only brought him to make me jealous, babe. We all know that’s the truth.”
His words shouldn’t surprise me as much as they do. Unfortunately, it seems my guards dropped too low.
“We’re too old for these kinds of games. I’m not jealous, and I didn’t bring Grayson to poke at you.”
“Come on. Don’t make me beg for the truth here,” he pushes, stepping closer.
He reeks of alcohol and cheap perfume. In this close proximity, the combination is almost enough to make me retch. Maybe then he’d believe me.
“I’m being serious. I like Grayson. A lot.
He’s a good guy, and I don’t want to waste the time I have with him here having a pointless conversation with you about the past. If you truly want to clear the air, then let’s talk like grown-ups.
I’m sorry that my mother invited you here, and I don’t know what she said or promised in return, but I really didn’t do all of this with the hope of getting back with you.
It’s been years since we dated. We’re not even compatible anymore. I’m not sure we ever were.”
His mood sours. The shift is obvious, and I stiffen, ready for the cruel words that always followed him being put in his place by anyone, me included.
He’s not a violent man, but he’s not good at keeping his words respectful, either.
Not when he’s upset. That’s part of the reason why I broke up with him.
That and his lack of genuine interest in being with me.
It was always all about him, and after a while, that grew tiring.
The fingers that grip my forearm don’t hurt me, but they still hold tight as he scowls and moves closer.
“This isn’t funny, Jill. I’ve just gotten a killer promotion, and I took time off for this.
It made me look bad to request the days to be here, but I did it anyway because I thought you wanted me here.
Now, if you’re done playing with that clean-cut robot you’ve ditched upstairs, I’d really like to take this conversation to my room so we can be alone.
We both know we shouldn’t have broken up.
What we had was good, baby. Don’t tell me you don’t miss it. Miss me.”
I stare at him, unable to find the right words to say. Denial is a disease that men like James seem to catch constantly. Beneath that messy blond hair, the charming smile, and bright blue eyes, he’s helplessly stupid. Luckily, stupidity isn’t contagious.
“Let it go, James. A reconnection isn’t happening here or anywhere. There’s no future with us. I’m sorry you wasted a trip—”
He yanks me into his chest, his hand slipping up to cup my elbow. “Stop this. Be honest. Let me kiss you and remind you of what we had, Jill. I promise you’ll realize what a mistake you’re making.”
“I’d recommend you take your hand off of her and step back,” comes the voice from behind me.
I know without looking back who’s joined us and, from the sounds of it, is very unimpressed with what he’s found.