52. Then
FIFTY-TWO
then
Grayson and I huddled together under his duvet and watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on his computer, even though we could hear the cheers from the actual event echoing in the streets right outside his apartment.
I could tell he felt bad about the day before. He kept sighing into my hair and dropping random kisses on my shoulder. Every so often, I caught him examining my profile in a troubled, searching way. Eventually, I just started smiling at him whenever he stared. He realized his mistake quickly, casting me a rueful smirk each time I silently called him out.
Later in the day, while I traipsed back and forth from my bag at the foot of his bed to the bathroom mirror, he sat at his island and worked on homework until he had to get in the shower. I floated over to his open notebook, hoping to catch a glimpse of his latest doodle.
But there weren’t any sketches in the margins.
Glancing over my shoulder to be sure he wouldn’t catch me, I flipped back to the earlier sections of his notes. There, I saw dozens of familiar structures I used to discuss with him. I grinned when I noticed that he’d used a whole page to sketch out a formal rendering of one of my favorites.
The cylindrical tower had an ornate glass spire on top. To catch the light, I imagined. At fifty stories, it would make an arresting sight.
My grin grew when I saw he had added a feature I came up with: Drawn in stark lines, a garden surrounded the base of the building. Under the whole structure, his precise handwriting labeled the rendering.
Stryker my fingers stretched out to graze his clenched jaw. A beseeching bolt of hope cracked through his features, leaving me defenseless.
He needs me .
I offered him a grin, hoping to melt away his consternation. “I’d love to join you all.”
Grayson held my hand against his cheek. “Are you sure? What about your mom?”
“We’ll work it out,” I assured him. “I can probably do both. I’ll just look up flights later and change my tickets.”
And hope to God there isn’t an up-charge …
“Not necessary,” Mr. Stryker put in, his voice gruff. “You’ll have our jet at your disposal, of course.”
Another gulp stuck in my throat. A jet?
Grayson’s eyes softened as he traced my face. “Maybe I could come with you? I’d love to meet your mom and Darcy.”
A shimmer of joy fluttered through me. “Got to make sure I don’t trash your plane, huh?”
My silly joke earned surprised spurts of laughter from all three of them. The appreciation I glimpsed in Gray’s eyes doubled into adoration. The same smoldering look he gave me the night before when he couldn’t quite get his words out.
Love .
I hoped so, anyway. Because my heart felt close to bursting .
And his gorgeous, glowing grin didn’t help one bit.
His parents began discussing when they should make the trip out east to open up the house. Gray turned to me, his expression a fervent mask of gratitude.
“Spending time with you is all I want for Christmas,” he murmured, kissing the center of my hand one more time. “Thank you, Ellie.”
My chest throbbed. I tried for a weak smirk. “You didn’t want a horrible sweater to go with your pitiful green scarf?”
His grin expanded. “If you made me a sweater, then you’d have to see me in it every week.” A teasing spark settled in his eyes. “Think I could get away with wearing it to work? Or the gym?”
As I giggled, he took my face between his palms, pulled it to his own, and placed a gentle kiss on my lips, not seeming to care if his parents saw. Holding me still, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if drawing strength from our closeness.
Jacqueline’s knowing voice cut into our moment. “Grayson, mi amor , I’m afraid it’s time to make our customary call to Nonna and Papa.”
He only leaned back enough to cast me a rueful smirk. “My grandparents, in Spain. They don’t eat dinner until ten p.m. over there, and they’re expecting me and Mom to FaceTime them.”
Gray caught my inquisitive glance toward Mr. Stryker. “Dad usually doesn’t join the calls,” he explained, dropping my face and straightening in his chair. “The language barrier makes it hard.”
Jacqueline shrugged gracefully. “My husband’s Spanish is good, and his Italian is passable, but only a rare few can catch on to Spitalian.”
I blinked at them. “ Spit -alian?”
Gray took on a long-suffering air. “Like ‘Spanglish’ but with Italian. Spanish-Italian. Spitalian.” His cheekbones darkened slightly. “Apparently, I invented the word when I was six, and no one wants to let me forget it.”
Gray blushing was almost as sexy as Gray pouting. So when he combined the two, I thought my panties might disintegrate. My teeth sank into my lower lip as I looked up at him, somewhere between snickering and melting. Imagining his deep, sexy voice flowing over a melodic r omance language sent quivers to my core. “I didn’t know you spoke Italian.”
He caught the bent of my thoughts in a second. Flirtatious warmth ignited in his eyes while he stood. “ Solo un po. E non bene .”
While I struggled to translate, he bent to kiss my cheek, lingering for just a second too long. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he promised. As he stepped away, a wry, mischievous twist pulled at his sculpted lips. “ Ciao, bella .”
Jacqueline began teasing him in their made-up language while they vacated the dining room, leaving me alone with Mason Stryker for the very first time.
For a moment, I stared at my plain fingernails, uneasy. Even when I wasn’t looking at him, The Stryker Intimidation Factor permeated the air, filling me with a thick wash of apprehension.
When I finally looked up, I found him regarding me with calm concentration. “Ella.”
I swallowed hard, hoping my eyes weren’t as big as saucers. “Yes, sir?”
His dark brown sweater turned his tawny eyes into golden beams. They carved my face with laser focus, searching. “I wonder if I might ask you a question. About our company.”
Alarm stuck in my gullet. “I—I’m happy to try to answer anything you ask me, sir, of course. But I cannot imagine a single thing I would be able to help you with. Usually, when Gray tries to discuss difficult decisions, all I can do is listen…”
The set of his square jaw softened. “In my experience, that’s a big help, Ella. Don’t ever underestimate the value of a sounding board for a CEO. Each decision we make has many components—saying them out loud can give valuable perspective.”
A glimmer of pride sparkled in my center. “I hope so. He works so hard. I wish there were more I could do to help him. Sometimes, I wonder if he would be better off with someone who knows more about…” I gestured around the opulent dining area. “All of this. I feel completely out of my depth most of the time. ”
His version of Gray’s self-deprecating smile graced his bearded face. “I’ll tell you a secret—most of us are at your age. I was for a very long time. I’ve been the CEO of Stryker & Sons for two decades, but at the beginning, I was just like Grayson. One of the most valuable lessons my father taught me was how to admit when I didn’t understand something. And bring in experts who could teach me. Which is why I feel compelled to seek your counsel.”
Dear Lord. On what ? Yarn? Yoga? How much butter to put in caramel?
Two sticks .
“About my son,” Mason clarified. “You seem to be the expert these days.”
Like a moron, I actually pointed to myself. “Me?”
Mr. Stryker sat back, folding his hands on the table. “Yes. I know we’ve only met a couple of times, but I’ve truly never seen him as happy as he is in your company. You seem to understand him in a unique way. So, I need to ask you—do you think he can do this?”
My answer came immediately. “Yes.”
A slight curve tipped up one corner of his mouth. “Perhaps I should rephrase. I know he’s capable . He’s insightful and cautious. People respond to him as an authority figure. He can negotiate without giving too much away. He does well with numbers. His contract skills are progressing rapidly.”
Mr. Stryker’s contemplative expression took on an edge of compunction. “My son could do anything he set his mind to. I know he’s dedicated himself to this job despite his misgivings. I only mean to ask you, Ella—if he has to do this job for the rest of his life, will he be happy?”
My mind leaped to the sketches ensconced upstairs. The designs I stashed away. The doodles in his notebooks. The new drawing in my coat pocket.
“He’s torn,” I whispered, admitting it out loud for the first time. “He has a creative passion that he thinks he has to give up in order to b e a good CEO. I’m afraid… if he does that… he’ll always resent letting it go.”
Mason’s face furrowed. “The sketching, you mean? I know my wife likes to believe he was the next Frank Lloyd Wright, but I haven’t seen a new design from him in ages. I assumed he gave the hobby up.”
“But he’s studying architecture,” I pointed out. “And the drafting table in his apartment… the sketches on his walls…” As I spoke, I realized he had no clue what I was talking about. A sudden flash of inspiration brought me to my feet. “Hold on. I’ll show you.”
Before I lost my nerve, I strode out to the foyer and retrieved the folded piece of notebook paper from my coat pocket. When I returned to the table, I took Grayson’s seat beside Mr. Stryker and carefully placed the new sketch in front of him.
Mason went completely still for a long moment. “What is this?”
I bit my lip, chagrinned. “I sort of stole it from Gray’s financial accounting notebook. It’s an idea he was working on when we met. It’s evolved a lot. I caught him working on it all the time—until recently.”
While he stared at the paper, I rambled on. “I know that Stryker & Sons is a development company, more oriented toward buying up land and turning profits by breaking it up or tearing things down. But I just keep thinking… couldn’t there be some value in a talent like Grayson’s? He’s so creative in this wonderfully sensible way. I know he can’t really be an architect if he’s going to be the CEO, but I think if you found some way to honor his artistic side, he would feel much more fulfilled.”
Mason held up the sketch. Disbelief colored his voice. “You saw him draw this?”
“Yes, sir.” I nodded. “Many times. The garden was my idea, actually. Of course, he managed to make it more unique and practical than I imagined.”
His gold eyes ran over the page again and again. “This is very good. Much more evolved than his work in high school. I suppose I should have anticipated as much had I known he was still drawing.” He snagged my gaze. “Would you mind if I kept this?”
Eagerness overrode my sense. Without thought to consequences, I blurted, “Of course! I have the others.”
He stared right at me for a long, tense second. “You have other versions of this building?”
I sank my teeth into my lip again. “Not exactly, no. Grayson recently got rid of all of the sketches hanging in his apartment, and I sort of… I kept some of them without telling him.”
An edge of desperation crept into my tone. “I just didn’t want him to get rid of everything and regret it one day. I figured I could keep some of the best ones safe, just in case he changed his mind. I didn’t tell him because he’s had a hard time letting it go, and I didn’t want to undermine his hard work.”
Mr. Stryker frowned at the picture some more. “You said I should find some way to honor his artistic side. You think he would be happier doing the other duties of a CEO if he also had time for creative projects?”
My nod gave away my frantic optimism. “I really think so. I’ve tried suggesting it to him before, but he says it wouldn’t work. And I don’t really understand all of the intricacies of your job, so I tend to believe him, but maybe... Is there any way he could run Stryker & Sons and have time to work on the creative side of the business, too?”
Mason Stryker, a world-famous titan of industry, met my gaze head-on. “Not if he intends to stay in a relationship with you.”
He said the words so calmly that I didn’t know how to process them. Did he mean it as an insult? A hint? A grievance? Or perhaps just… a fact?
A thick wash of shame poured through me. My hands shook as I fell back against my seat. “Oh.”
With regret filling the lines of his face, he looked grimmer than ever. “You are a lovely girl, Ella. I see why my son has fallen for you. And I think you are good for him. I don’t want him to lose someone he cares fo r so much. But if he does what you’re suggesting, the personal time he’s managed to maintain thus far would vanish. And to be frank, with the way he looks at you and talks about you, I’m just not convinced that that’s a compromise he’d be willing to make.”
We sat in complete silence, considering. I knew he was right. Grayson would go ballistic if anyone suggested he give up our relationship over work. And, with a tsunami of guilt swamping my stomach, I realized I wasn’t willing to make that sacrifice, either.
Mr. Stryker read my expression and made a reassuring sound. “Now, dear, don’t feel responsible. This isn’t your doing. I hardly think you’re the only obstacle here. Even if Grayson were single, he probably still wouldn’t be able to do two full-time jobs. Especially since one is so demanding.”
But I already felt fully responsible. A pleading grimace pulled at my mouth. “Isn’t there anyone else who could help him?” I begged. “Someone to take up some of the slack when?—”
I only narrowly caught myself. Mason’s face hardened anyway. “When I die? It’s all right, Ella. I had assumed he told you. It was kind of you not to bring it up sooner.”
“I’m so, so sorry,” I rushed on, the words tumbling out of me. “Grayson asked me not to discuss it, and he gets so depressed when we do that I just?—”
A frustrated sigh broke into my words as I scrambled to compose my thoughts. “I want you and Mrs. Stryker to know that I’m deeply, sincerely sorry that you are going through this. You’re such wonderful people, and you raised an amazing man. It kills me that you may not get to see him become all that he can be because I know he will do such great things. I apologize if Gray broke your confidence. He was out of his mind when he found out, and I think he just… needed me. But—now that I know, and you know that I know—I only hope that I can be helpful to you all, somehow.”
Mason dropped his eyes to his lap and gave a gruff cough. “Yes, well. Thank you, Ella. My biggest regret in all of this is what it will do to my family. I remember what it was like to lose my father, though I was much older than Grayson is now.”
Without thought, I reached for his hand, hoping to offer some small measure of comfort. Mr. Stryker’s head snapped up, pinning me in place with his gold gaze.
“He’s a strong person,” I assured him, holding fast. “He will find a way through it. I lost my dad when I was seventeen, and I did okay. Grayson is much tougher than me. He can do this, sir. I really believe that.”
Mr. Stryker stared at me for so long that anxiety started to knot my insides. Finally, he pulled his hand back and abruptly stood. Without glancing at me again, he strode to the exit.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he muttered and then disappeared.