80. Now
EIGHTY
now
I hate our new couch.
For one, it’s gray .
But moreover, it’s an ultra-modern piece with almost no padding. Mags also picked out a new rug in a matching shade of charcoal. I scowl at that, too.
My latest knitting project sits abandoned on my orange armchair. I’ve been using it as a crutch for the better part of the morning. Now that I’m no longer employed.
After calling out of work, I received a brusque email from Marjorie forty-five minutes later. It basically said she couldn’t afford to have an assist ant who called out “without compunction” and therefore, she would be asking HR to process my “separation” from Idealogue with two weeks’ notice.
At first, I was crushed; but as the morning wore on, I started to feel angry. I’ve worked there for almost two years and never called out unless I was desperately ill. Firing me after two missed days seems cruel. And short-sighted.
Maggie paces around the new rug. She came home a minute ago and immediately launched into an epic apology. I was ready to ask her to try again another time, but then she told me she went to Gray’s office.
“You told him you were sorry?” I can’t picture it. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve only received a handful of apologies. And she doesn’t even like Grayson.
“Yeah,” she huffs, still moving. “Well, actually no. Technically not. But. I sort of didn’t need to. He got it.”
My eyebrows fold together. “You two reached some sort of understanding…?”
“Goddess, I hope so! He was infuriatingly contrite. But I think I made my point. If I were you, I’d expect to see him again soon.”
My battered heart stirs. It’s so bruised; the thrill only manages to make it ache. “I don’t know, Maggie.”
“Well, I do!” she proclaims. “That boy is in love with you, Ella Callahan.”
“I don’t know,” I repeat, afraid to believe. “He’s never said so.”
It’s true. For everything we’ve been through, he really never said it.
Doesn’t that mean something? I spent all morning wondering, staring at the tabloid stories I couldn’t escape—pictures of Gray and Olivia Watts splashed over every corner of the web.
They look so right together, both dark and aristocratic. I bet she even has a coat from a department store.
With an agitated motion, Maggie rips her phone out of her bag and reads it before pounding a text with her thumbs. She turns her eyes on me, then the pile of knitting next to me.
“That thing is twice as big as it was this morning,” she points out, a touch suspicious. “Are you spiral-knitting because Grayson hasn’t called yet?”
I know I have to tell her about my job… but I’m dreading it. Anxiety pinches my lungs while she focuses on her phone once more, then finally turns to me again.
“No,” I admit, blowing out a big breath. “I got fired. Because I called out Friday and today.”
Mags freezes mid-stride, her face torn between murderous and calculating. “You know what we need?”
I run my hand under my nose. “Money? A LinkedIn profile?”
She reaches her hand out to me. “Margaritas.”
I only agree to go for drinks if I get to bring my knitting.
Between the tote bag stuffed full of mustard yarn, my oversized red sweater dress, and my general status as Forever Alone, I’m officially The Crazy Woman On The Subway.
Maggie refuses to tell me where we’re going for our “Welfare Margaritas.” She babbles while we ride Uptown, chatting about meaningless topics designed to distract me from my misery.
Our train bumps along while she talks, and I knit. Somewhere around Downtown, she gets a call and excuses herself to go to the other side of the car to take it.
“Is it a blanket?”
I make a face, irritated that some stranger is trying to chat me up.
Today of all days? Seriously ?
With my nose scrunched and wary eyes, I chance a peek at the figure suddenly standing over me.
Grayson Stryker looms a foot away, imposing and handsome as ever. Gazing down at me with an unfathomable look in his eyes and a small smile playing on his sculpted lips.
The moment transports me back in time. To the day I first glanced up from my lapful of yarn and fell into his intense green gaze. In a way, I never climbed back out.
“Gray.” My mouth hangs open for a long second before I remember to close it. “What are you—How did you?—”
His face transforms into my very favorite grin. He nods slightly to the other side of the car. “I had an accomplice.” Raw feeling shifts in his depths. “But to be honest, even if Maggie hadn’t helped—I would have ridden this train every single day until I found you, Ellie. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”
I feel myself smile for the first time in days. “I remember.”
As we stare at each other, all traces of levity dissipate. His eyes burn—brilliant smoldering vats of emerald. I can’t help being swept into them all over again. “What are you doing here?”
Right there, in full view of a subway full of strangers, Grayson Stryker, business titan, lowers into a crouch, putting our faces at the same level. His warm hands fall to my knees, kneading gently. “I’m here for my girl.”
He reaches up to hold my face in his palm. The spark in his gaze ignites.
“I love you, Ellie. You are the bravest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And I want us to be together. Always.”
Just when I feel certain I’ll embarrass myself by bursting into tears on the train, his free hand reaches under my seat and produces a shoebox. It has a few different things at the bottom—but one very familiar pair of shoes on top of it all.
He glances down at the green clogs. “I’ve known you were the One from the first moment I saw these.”
The One .
And he loves me? He planned this out, within a couple of hours, for me?
“You brought me my lost shoes?” A watery, delighted giggle trips up my throat. “I always said you were Prince Charming.”
His brows rise while his grin widens. “I think that was a glass slipper, not a rubber clog.” He shrugs and pulls off my ballet flats. “But I’ll take it.”
For a moment, Gray focuses on gracing my stocking clad feet with my favorite shoes. When he turns his face back up to mine, unfettered adoration saturates his features.
“There’s my girl,” he murmurs, framing my face with his hands.
Unable to resist the warmth brimming in his depths and the happy hum in my heart, I launch myself at him. He catches me, enveloping my body in his arms while I plant my lips directly onto his.
Our mouths brush in a hard, sweet kiss… until Maggie cheers and starts a round of applause that quickly spreads throughout the car. We both lean back, smiling as we lock eyes.
“What do we do now?” I whisper through the din, suddenly shy.
Gray guides both of us to our feet, wrapping one solid arm around my waist to hold me against him. “Actually,” he says. “I had an idea.”