Chapter 11
Cadi sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had long since gone cold. She had taken the day off—something she never did—but today, she needed to. She had already dropped Tomos off at school, ignoring the strange look he had given her when she told him she wasn't going to work. She had waited all morning, nerves making her stomach churn, listening for the familiar hum of Gray's Range Rover.
When she finally heard it pull into the driveway, her breath caught. She had parked her car in the street to keep the element of surprise, and now, she felt the tension coil in her chest as the front door unlocked.
Gray stepped in, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. He leaned against it for a moment and let out a big breath, rubbing his face with his hands. He looked exhausted—his broad shoulders slightly hunched, the usual sharpness in his expression dulled. He looked... smaller, as if something were weighing him down.
Cadi stepped forward, and his head jerked up as he became aware of her presence. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Thought you'd be at work," he muttered, pushing past her towards the fridge. He pulled out the carton of milk and reached for the cereal on the counter.
"Any coffee left?"
Cadi swallowed, her carefully rehearsed words shrivelling up in her throat. The confrontation she had planned, the accusations she had been stewing over, all of it faded under the sheer normalcy of the moment. She hesitated.
"I'll make some fresh," she said instead, already moving to switch the kettle on. "Do you want toast? Scrambled eggs?"
Gray barely glanced at her, already pouring the milk into his bowl. "Fine."
The silence stretched between them as she moved around the kitchen, sneaking glances at him while he brooded over his weetabix. He wasn't meeting her eyes, wasn't saying anything more. His jaw was tight, his movements slow, controlled like he was holding something back.
She placed the plate in front of him and sat down opposite. He ate mechanically, spoon clinking against the ceramic, the sound unnerving in the thick silence.
Finally, Cadi cleared her throat. "Gray, we need to talk."
Cadi hesitated, her fingers tightening around her mug. "I heard things about Vanessa..."
Gray's expression remained unreadable as he took a slow sip of his coffee. "Oh aye? And what kind of things would those be?"
Cadi tested the waters, watching for his reaction. "That she's been getting a lot of support. That you think she's the best fit for certain opportunities."
Gray's jaw twitched. "So, now I can't have professional opinions without it bein' a grand conspiracy?" His voice was sharp, but the exhaustion in it was unmistakable.
"That's not what I said," Cadi countered, trying to stay calm. "I just—Gray, it's not just that. It's everything. The distance. The way you come home and barely look at me. The way you've been... off."
"Off?" He let out a humorless chuckle. "And what does that mean, exactly? Workin' too much? Bein' tired? Tryin' to keep up with a million things? Aye, maybe I am off, but it's not some feckin' mystery, Cadi. It's called life."
She exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up. "Then why won't you just talk to me? Tell me what's wrong instead of acting like I'm imagining all of this?"
Gray ran a hand through his hair, his accent thickening. "Maybe because there's nothin' to say! Maybe I'm just feckin' exhausted, and I don't need ya analyzing every damn thing I do."
"That's not fair." Cadi's voice was tight, controlled. "You're making me feel like I'm crazy for noticing what's right in front of me. Like I'm the problem."
Gray scoffed, shaking his head. "Christ, Cadi. I come home to eat a bowl of feckin' cereal, and suddenly I'm under interrogation?"
"This isn't just about that, and you know it!" Cadi's voice rose before she forced herself to lower it again. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
"No, I don't," Gray shot back, his voice cold now. "Why don't you tell me?"
"That you didn't think I was the right fit for the diversity team. That you vouched for Vanessa instead," she said, her voice tight. "And then I—" she swallowed, pushing forward, "I saw you with her, Gray. In the consultant's room. The way you—"
His expression darkened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "Ya shouldn't be listenin' to gossip, Cadi. And ya shouldn't be spying on me either."
"Spying?" she let out a humourless laugh. "I wasn't spying. I walked in and saw you tucking her hair behind her ear, Gray. I saw you leaning in."
His chair scraped against the floor as he abruptly stood. "Jesus Christ, is that what ya think? That I'm screwin' around with Vanessa?"
"What am I supposed to think?" she shot back, rising as well. "You've been distant for weeks! You barely talk to me, you barely see Tomos, and when you are home, it's like you're—" she exhaled sharply, shaking her head, "—it's like you're not even here."
"I've been workin'!" he snapped, his Irish accent thickening with frustration. "I'm tryin' to keep everything together, and now I come home to this? To ya accusin' me of—of what, exactly?"
"Of shutting me out! Of making me feel like I don't even exist!"
Gray dragged a hand through his hair, breathing hard. "I don't have time for this, Cadi."
He turned abruptly and stalked toward the stairs. Cadi followed him, heart pounding, unwilling to let him just walk away.
"Gray, don't do this. Don't shut me out ."
He reached the bedroom, yanking off his shirt as he moved towards the en suite. Cadi swallowed, her eyes instinctively tracing the lines of his back, the hard planes of muscle. Even exhausted and furious, he was still beautiful, still the man she had loved for so long.
Gray caught her staring and let out a bitter laugh. "At least I'm still good for somethin'."
Cadi flinched. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He turned to face her, bare-chested, his expression unreadable. "Just say what ya really mean, Cadi. Ya think I'm a bastard, don't ye?"
She shook her head. "No. I think you're hiding something from me. And I want to know why."
Gray's gaze held hers for a long moment, something like pain flickering across his face. Then he exhaled sharply, running a hand over his jaw.
"I'm takin' a shower," he muttered. "If ya want answers, ye'll have to wait."
And with that, he disappeared into the en suite, shutting the door behind him with a quiet, definitive click.