30. Chapter 30
Chapter 30
River
T he past few days have been awkward as hell.
I know it’s my fault. I’m avoiding what Gray said to me that night we had sex on the back porch.
I’m already fighting myself on this whole domestic life I’m building here with him, and now he’s talking about kids.
One of the top reasons female surgeons I’ve known either stop practicing or completely alter their schedules to do less is having children. And it’s not out of obligation like that might imply. Not because they’re not superwomen and can’t do it all. They can.
They choose to because they love their children and want to spend those years with them. Years you don’t get back. Kids seem to grow up so fast. My parents said it, as have so many others.
Part of me has always wanted them so I could give them a parent different from mine, but a bigger part of me knows how hard I’ve worked to get where I am and how much I’ve had to prove that I am more than the vagina between my legs and uterus inside me.
It’s been an exhausting and grueling process over the years. It still is. My partners undermine me every chance they get, and now that they know I’ve shacked up with the infamous Grayson Garrison, it’s only gotten worse.
The pointed questions and statements about getting home at a reasonable hour to cook dinner has become the topic of every conversation. Coupled with: Well, my wife does this. Mine does that. You should talk to Cindy. She stays at home now and can help you learn to run a household. Keeps ours tidy and the kids in order.
I fucking hate it.
It’s why I freeze up every time Gray mentions our future progressing past where we are now. Marriage and kids and more dogs and a new picket fence. It’s all so much sometimes.
And the men in that office aren’t going to respect me more for proving I can do it all. That’s not how chauvinism works. They’ll chastise me for not performing as a traditional wife. For spreading myself too thin.
They’ll continue to point out how tired I am or that I haven’t taken a vacation in years.
I don’t want that, no matter how much I want everything with Gray.
Gray went to go meet with Tate a few hours ago. A conversation I insisted he go have. I needed time alone and they need to bury the damn hatchet.
But mostly it was space. I needed space from his constant apologies and the plea in his eyes and the way he wants to talk about everything.
I don’t want to talk about why I’m reluctant to start a future with him. My own deficiencies aren’t something I desire to harp on.
I don’t want to talk about my family being in town for the night to celebrate Gran’s eightieth.
The assholes I work with don’t deserve to breathe the same air as me, let alone live through my words.
I just want quiet. I want the carefree relationship we seemed to have when all this started.
But I guess this is what happens when you move forward with someone. The real shit comes up and you have to find a way to navigate it together.
The shutting of the front door and the click of nails over the hardwood floors pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts.
“River, babe,” Gray calls, the thump of his boots growing louder the closer he gets. “Hey, where are you? You ready?”
He barges into the bedroom. Though there had been happiness in his tone, his features don’t match it.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, fine.” He brushes it off. A sign he is still parsing through his feelings over how his talk with Tate went. “You ready? We need to pick up Gran’s cake on the way.”
“Yeah, of course.” I grab my purse from the bed beside me before smoothing the front of my purple floral dress.
Gray pulls me into his chest, one arm across the middle of my back, a soft kiss pressed to my lips. “You look beautiful.” And I melt. Every concern I’d been wading through earlier, abandoned and ignored, because this man makes my heart soar.
And that’s the problem. I can’t be the woman I created and the one who loves how he brought the real me back out at the same time. I have to choose because I don’t know how to blend the two.
“Thanks, baby. Let’s get going.” I try to pull away, but Gray holds me in place, tucking a curl behind my ear.
“Your eyes are my favorite feature. You know that?” I nod. He’s told me countless times. “It’s not just the mesmerizing color that’s uniquely yours, but it’s how they tell me everything I need to know.” That part he’s never told me, and my heart hammers in response to his words. “I know you don’t want to see your family today, but it’s not about them. It’s about Gran and the people who will be there who genuinely care for that loony tune.” A soft laugh leaves me. She is in fact a bit cooky. “So don’t worry about them. They’ll be gone by morning, and we can go back to life as we know it.”
Running my hand over Gray’s cheek, the words thank you don’t seem like enough. How he sees me just as I am, without judgment, and only love is beyond me. “I love you, Gray.”
“I know, baby.” He turns to kiss my palm. “I love you more. Now let’s go.”
There are several cars parked out front when we pull up to Gran’s house. The Crawley truck. Several of her friends. A few others that are likely from around town.
Then there are three others: one with Florida plates, one from Michigan, and the last from California.
The muscles in my jaw tense, my bite so sharp my molars ache. But Gray just grabs my hand, balancing the cake on the palm of the other and leads me inside.
Raucous laughter fills the house when we enter. Gran at the center of it, chatting with Mrs. Crawley and another woman who has been her friend for more decades than I’ve been alive. Funny, I can never remember her name, though.
“Hey, Gran,” I hug her as she comes shuffling toward me.
“Hey, sweetheart. And there’s my future grandson,” she releases me, her smile spreading wider as she pulls Gray down into a hug.
He only bashfully smiles, attempting to balance the cake before Wilber snatches it from his grasp. “Dammit Addy, you about made the boy drop the cake, and that’s the only reason I’m here.”
“Oh, Wilber hush. It’s not. I’m the only person willing to be your friend after my hubby died, other than your wife. But she’s out of obligation.”
I can only laugh. This is how they’ve always been. Their endless bickering is always at the forefront of their interactions. The two are more like siblings than anything else. We’re all used to it by now, but Gray only stares dumbfounded. Stretching up on my toes, I whisper in his ear, “Don’t worry. This is normal for them.”
“Right.”
“Dr. River,” a male voice darkly chuckles from my right and my eyes press shut. The bit of light energy that found me when I walked through the door quickly evaporates.
Turning slowly, a tight smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. Warner has always been my least favorite sibling, so of course he would be the first to find me.
“Did you just get here?” Warner grins wide.
“Yes,” I reply through gritted teeth.
“Damn. I was hoping I wouldn’t be the latest Thompson. Too bad,” he snickers, eyeing the arm that drapes over my shoulder. Gray’s arm. My protection against this bullshit.
“Grayson Garrison,” Gray sticks out a hand to my brother, who only eyes him as if he has some sort of audacity doing so.
“So you’re the bull rider that’s been fucking my sister?”
Gray tenses beside me, but a smooth grin still spreads on his face. “I would prefer a less crude description. I’m the one in love with your sister. The man who worships at her feet and ensures everyone knows her value as much as she does. So if that’s the person you’re referring to, then yeah, I’m him.”
Warner’s jaw works. The reaction clear enough, Gray drops the hand my brother refused to shake.
“Where’s Mom?” Warner grumbles at me.
“Like I said, I just got here. I haven’t made it past this spot.”
“So you don’t know?”
My anger boils. Warner is always like this. He acts so childish when he gets his feelings hurt. “I believe she just said that. Excuse us, Gran has been waiting for her favorites to arrive,” Gray quips before turning us away from my brother and into the crowd.
If I thought I couldn’t love a man more, I was just proven wrong.