Chapter Eleven #2
I took the time while he was gone to work on the graphics for the new release of my marketing software.
I knew he wanted to hire that out, but I had a feeling he was going to use whoever designed the logo concepts, and those were basically terrible except for the one, and even that needed my help.
Of course, I didn’t think we needed a new interface, but as he did, I decided to do some more research.
I felt like I had come up with a perfect blend of what he called sexy and what I knew was practical and intuitive.
It was my plan to wow him when he came back.
Around ten, while I was in deep design mode, my phone rang, and for some reason I smiled when I looked at the caller ID. “Good morning, Mr. Greyson.”
“You sound chipper, Ms. Bryant.”
I guess since it was working hours, I was Ms. Bryant. He really was annoying.
“Of course, I am. My boss is out of town.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he quipped.
“So, are you calling to see if I put your coffee filter instructions to good use this morning?”
That made him chuckle. “No, but did you?”
“I framed them and put them up in the break room.”
“Kel—” He cleared his throat. “Ms. Bryant,” he corrected himself in his this-isn’t-the-time-to-be-humorous-after-all-it’s-business-hours tone.
“Yes, Mr. Greyson?”
“Lorelai Duchane emailed me and would like us to email her a proposal. Do you think you can work on that?”
“I think I can manage that.”
“Send it to me to look over before you email it to her.”
“I think I heard a please in there somewhere.”
“Please, Ms. Bryant.”
I could hear the exasperation in his voice. It filled me with pride. “Mr. Greyson, I would be happy to do that for you.” I almost gagged on my own words. It was then I heard a woman’s voice in the background.
“Hey Kel— I mean Ms. Bryant, I need to go, but I’ll call later.” He sounded flustered.
I again began to wonder.
While I worked, my mind wandered frequently, and it frequently landed on someone it shouldn’t.
By lunch, I decided I needed a distraction.
I ditched my sack lunch and headed out. I decided to go to a travel agency and check out some vacation packages.
My sister and Zane had invited me to go to Disney World with them in a few weeks during the girls’ spring break.
I had thought about saying yes, but I think they did it because they felt sorry for me and because Zane and Amanda wanted kid-free time to do what married couples do, so I politely declined.
Besides, theme parks weren’t my idea of a good vacation.
I would rather be lying out on the beach or scuba diving and snorkeling than waiting in never-ending lines.
As I perused the brochures, it was just another glaring reminder that I was single.
They all showed happy couples and families.
It wasn’t quite the distraction I was looking for, but I still took several brochures for the Virgin Islands, various cruises, and even London.
I could see myself on a double-decker bus, visiting Jane Austen’s homeland.
Maybe I would even get to meet my own Mr. Darcy. I laughed at my stupidity.
By the time I got home for the day, I was melancholy.
All I did for the first half hour was lie on the couch and stroke Charlie’s back.
He was a purring machine by the time I was done.
I asked him what he thought of riding a double-decker bus.
I think he may have rolled his eyes and said, Be quiet silly woman, you missed a spot.
I needed a life. At least I had belly dancing to look forward to.
On my way to the Y, I saw something to lighten my mood.
There was a sign informing the residents that the pool would open on the first day of spring this year.
That was only a week away! With that news and a killer workout, I was in much better spirits when I arrived back home.
After I showered and made dinner, I settled myself on the couch, while listening to some smooth jazz.
I was feeling relaxed and content when my phone rang.
It probably shouldn’t have surprised me, yet it still did.
“Hello.”
“Kelli.”
He sounded Ian-like, so I said, “Mr. Greyson.”
I heard him sigh. It never got old.
“You know, I could still be at work, and you just crossed professional boundaries by using my first name.”
“Are you at work?” he inquired.
I didn’t answer.
“That’s what I thought.” I could hear the grin.
“So, what can I help you with, Mr. Greyson?”
“I called to see how your day was?”
“Um . . . I’m just about finished with the proposal for Lorelai and—”
“I didn’t call to talk about work,” he interrupted.
“This is a social call?” I asked because I really needed clarification. I mean, why would he call just to call?
“In a manner of speaking,” he responded.
“Huh,” was all I could say.
“So, how was your day?” he repeated.
“It was fabulous,” I exaggerated, because I didn’t want him getting the wrong idea. “So . . . how was your day?”
“Not as good as yours, apparently.”
I laughed because he probably did have a better day than me. He probably spent it with his “personal matters.”
“Well, you know I’m living the glamorous life over here.” I looked down at my sweatpants and t-shirt.
He chuckled. “Is that right?”
“Yep.”
It was silent for a moment. Like the awkward kind.
He cleared his throat. He did that a lot now I noticed. “It’s snowing here.”
“Then I’m glad I’m not there.”
“Still not a fan of the snow?”
“Not really.”
“Do you remember when I tried to teach you how to drive in the snow when we visited my parents for Thanksgiving?”
Oh, did I ever. My heart began to race at the thought.
There were too many good memories wrapped up in that trip.
That being one of them. As always, he had been patient with me, even when I got his car stuck in a ditch.
He didn’t get bent out of shape, instead he kissed me and kept me warm until his dad could come haul the car out. I sighed out loud.
“Kelli?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember?”
“Mr. Greyson, I don’t think we should talk about it.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t.”
“Kelli . . .”
I waited for several seconds.
“Kelli, I need to explain to you what happened back then.”
“No, you don’t, Mr. Greyson.” I responded firmly.
“Will you please call me Ian?”
“I can’t.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said before he hung up hastily.
I lay down on my couch and tried to process what had just happened.
I wasn’t sure what to make of it. All I knew was my heart ached and I felt that hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Why did he have to bring up such things?
And what good was his explanation going to do after all these years?
He didn’t love me. What else was there to know?
The next day he called me again while I was at the office to bark orders at me. Okay, maybe not bark, but he was kind of demanding. I was glad he didn’t bring up the night before. We had left things in a weird place. I figured that was the end of the social calls, but again I was wrong.
That night I was making myself a pasta salad for dinner when my phone rang. I almost didn’t answer it, but I admit I was curious. “Mr. Greyson, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I was calling to see how your day was, Kelli.”
Emphasizing my first name was not going to get me to call him by his. “Well, let’s see. I totally rocked it at work today, in jeans no less.” I waited for him to respond.
“Hmm . . .”
“Yes, Mr. Greyson?”
“Sounds like a good day.”
I could tell he had to swallow down what he really wanted to say. “I can’t complain. How was your day?” I asked.
“Long.”
“That was insightful.”
He chuckled on his end. “Seen any good movies lately?”
“That was an abrupt and odd change of subject.”
“So, no?”
I couldn’t believe the change in direction, or why he even cared. “Not really. I have this new demanding boss, so I haven’t had a lot of free time.” I laughed at my own wit.
“I don’t remember asking you to work any weekends.”
“I’m sure it’s coming.”
“I’m not a big fan of working on the weekends.”
“Really?”
“I’m sure that surprises you.”
“You could say that.”
“All right, so no new movies. Favorite movie in the last ten years?”
This conversation was getting more and more odd. “Uh . . . I don’t know. I guess anything with Sandra Bullock in it. Maybe The Blind Side.”
“Is that because it was made in Tennessee?”
“Maybe. How about you?”
“I really liked the new Star Trek remakes.”
“I actually liked those too, or maybe it was Chris Pine. I was happy to see that they picked a handsome Captain Kirk this go around.”
“I think William Shatner would be offended.”
“He’s like eighty years old now.”
“Someday Chris Pine will be eighty, too.”
“Yes, but he’ll still have startling blue eyes.”
“You want a man with blue eyes?”
That did not go where I wanted it to, and the answer was no. I was somewhat partial to the Hershey chocolate ones. “Um, I’m an equal opportunity eye color enthusiast.”
“I like bluish eyes,” he replied.
That’s what he used to call mine. “Oh, that’s nice,” I said like I had never heard the term before. It was a totally lame response, but I wasn’t sure how to respond. His “personal matters” probably had bluish eyes.
“How is your family?” he asked at the lull in conversation.
“They’re doing well. Well, except my niece, Sam, is sick.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s only a little cold. She’s still as sassy as ever, so she must not be too sick.”
“Takes after her aunt, huh?”
“You could say that.”
“I need to go, but I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Do you mean during the day or night?”
“Both. Good night, Kelli.”
“Good night, Mr. Greyson.”
This pattern went on for the two weeks he was gone.
I almost found myself looking forward to the nightly calls.
We never talked about the past, though he skirted the issue a few times.
He seemed almost desperate to talk about it, which I couldn’t understand.
One thing he would never talk about was why he was in Colorado.
All he would say was he was working things out and he would get back to Nashville as soon as he could.
Every night he had a new question for me.
One night it was, “What was the best concert you’ve seen in the last ten years?
” Every question centered on the ten-year mark.
The answer to that was easy, Jake Owen. Now there was a fine-looking man.
So that night we talked about music. He admitted to me that his favorite concert was Kenny G.
I laughed so hard at him, but he wasn’t ashamed.
He was impressed with a man who could hold a note for forty-five minutes. That was impressive.
Then there was the best vacation and my favorite restaurant. It was weird, but our conversations gave me hope that maybe when he came back, things wouldn’t be so tense in the office. I figured that was why he was calling me “socially.” He wanted a better working environment.
I was still curious, though, about what was keeping him away, but let’s just say I know why they say curiosity killed the cat.
I thought after almost two weeks of phone calls, that all would be better when he came back.
I drove in the Monday of his return looking forward to the week ahead after a glorious weekend of basking in the sun by the pool, and swimming with Court and Sam.
I even smiled when I saw the white Infiniti in the parking lot on my way in.
I knew he had gotten in late the night before.
I looked at my reflection in the glass door before I entered and thought, not bad.
My skin was glowing from being sun-kissed all weekend, and my peach dress looked like at least half a million bucks on me, so I was feeling pretty darn good about myself as I walked up those stairs.
That, however, all came to a crashing halt.
I walked through the executive level entrance door to find Delfia in a dither, which was completely uncharacteristic.
She was throwing papers around her desk and muttering to herself.
I looked around trying to find the source of her agitation, but all I noticed was Mr. Greyson’s door was closed.
I could hear voices, which was odd, considering I only saw his car and Delfia’s in the parking lot.
Delfia finally noticed me and in hushed tones she spoke, “Heads up, Mr. Greyson . . .”
She didn’t get to finish her thought. Mr. Greyson came out of his office. He was smiling, and he was wearing something, or rather, someone on his arm.