Chapter 11
Elena
I ’m curled up in a ball on the sofa, and the cushion beneath my cheek is wet with tears.
I haven’t moved since Mr. Grant put me on the sofa and told me to wait for him.
I feel hollowed out and sick with shock.
I can’t get those pictures of my boyfriend and another woman out of my head.
When did he find time to have a whole other girlfriend, or lover, or whatever she is?
I barely have time to sit down for five minutes to myself.
The thought makes me cringe. Is that why Leon cheated on me? Because I’m so boring and tired all the time?
My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Leon. I sit up and wipe my face, and read it.
Leon: You’re the one I want. I just made a mistake.
Tears fill my eyes. A mistake? For a moment my heart lifts. Maybe it is all a terrible mistake. More texts from Leon light up my phone.
Leon: She doesn’t mean anything to me really.
Leon: And the thing is, you never seemed that interested in sex. I didn’t think you’d care if I got it elsewhere.
Leon: I made a mistake, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.
Leon: I was confused.
Leon’s throwing every excuse at the wall, hoping something sticks.
Confused? I know what confusion feels like, and it’s not taking happy selfies while you’re naked in bed with someone.
Confusion is kneeling in a church pew praying over and over that you won’t burn in hell for all eternity because you’re never good enough.
It’s trying to be a good girlfriend, and then having endless steamy dreams about your boyfriend’s dad.
It’s hiding a murder spree and a secret kiss in the dark.
If anyone finds out Mr. Grant killed my attackers and I concealed his involvement, I could go to prison and so could Mr. Grant.
My boyfriend’s father doesn’t seem to have any PTSD or regret over the blood on his hands, and I have never once felt afraid of the man I saw kill four people. That’s confusing.
The next two messages come through quickly, as if Leon is typing fast because he’s getting angry.
Leon: And I was frustrated.
Leon: I thought it was wrong to keep pushing you for sex.
Leon: You didn’t want me to keep pushing you for sex, did you? It was making us both angry not getting what we needed.
The phone drops from my fingers to the floor, and my heart drops with it.
He was angry with me? I was never angry with him.
The implication is clear that I wasn’t worth waiting for, even though I was giving Leon clear signs that I was getting more comfortable with the idea of sleeping with him.
The contraceptive patch proved that, didn’t it?
That night he went down on me could have been disastrous, but he cooled off, came back to me, and started again, slow and loving.
The way he touched me and kissed me—that second try was like night and day from the first. Later, I tried to tell him how grateful I was that he was patient and thoughtful enough to help me relax into it, and then make me feel so, so good, but he turned red and cut me off before I could get three words out.
I don’t understand why he didn’t want to relive that wonderful moment with me.
When did he start sleeping with this Angie? If I know when it started, maybe I can figure out what I did that triggered his infidelity. Was it a week when I took too many shifts at work? Was it right after I burst into tears and covered myself up because he pulled my top off?
I pick up my phone and reply.
Elena: How many times did you sleep with her? When did it start?
Leon: It was just once, I swear.
There are a dozen photos of them in bed together. The sheets change color and so does Angie’s lingerie. I start to get angry.
Elena: Do you think I’m stupid?
The three dots appear and they’re there for several minutes. Either he’s writing an essay or he’s deleting and retyping. Finally the message comes through.
Leon: I think you’re frigid.
Leon: You should see someone about that.
Hurt fills up inside my chest. The accusation in his words is clear. I’m not good enough. It’s nothing I didn’t already know.
I dissolve into sobbing again. A few minutes later, I hear the front door close, and then strong arms scoop me up, and I’m pulled against a warm chest. Mr. Grant holds me on his lap, murmuring soft words into my hair and gently stroking my brow.
“I hate that you’re in so much pain. I’m so sorry, Elena. I’ve got you. Just cry it out.”
Apparently I do need to cry, because I can’t stop. I cling to Mr. Grant’s bicep and shudder in his arms, which he keeps tight around me.
“You must have really loved him,” he murmurs.
I brush tears from my cheeks and sit up. “I don’t know if this hurts because I loved him, or because I was really trying, and I still wasn’t enough.”
After the night Leon went down on me, I started to hope that we were turning a corner together.
At first it wasn’t going well at all, and Leon had to leave the room because he was so frustrated with me.
I tried to feel something, but I got in my head and couldn’t enjoy myself.
Then he came back and everything was different.
I could feel warmth and love in the way he touched me.
The kisses he pressed to my thighs and stomach made me melt. And then his tongue…
It’s always been difficult for me to get turned on with Leon, and finally reaching orgasm with him felt like a big achievement for me. For us. I was so proud of us.
A horrible thought occurs to me. All the time we were in bed together, he must have been comparing me with that other woman. I cringe when I think about all the ways I must have been lacking. I bet Angie had no problem giving killer blowjobs and having orgasms left and right.
“I’ve been balancing work and family commitments and feeling like I’m never good enough. I think trying to be a good person didn’t make me a very fun girlfriend.”
Mr. Grant seizes my shoulders and makes me look at him. “Listen to me, Elena. You are not lacking. None of this is your fault. Do you hear me?”
It sure feels like it’s my fault. If I were a good person, I’d still have a boyfriend, and I’d know who my mother is by now.
I can hear my aunts’ chilly voices in my head, berating me over this new turn of events.
You gave him your body to treat like a playground, and now you’re all alone? Of course he walked out and didn’t look back. No man likes a whore, Elena.
Just as disgusting and irresponsible as your mother. It’s anyone’s guess who your real father is. I’m sure she doesn’t even know.
Mr. Grant’s insistent voice breaks through theirs. “You deserve to be treated with respect. You are more than enough, Elena.” His eyes run over my tearstained face as if he’s looking at someone beautiful, not a red-faced mess. “You deserve everything you want, just as you are.”
My lower lip quivers as I gaze up at him. But I’ve never been enough. I’ve always been found lacking. No one’s ever said anything so wonderful to me before.
“I think Leon dumped me because I’m boring.”
Mr. Grant fights a smile. My eyes widen in surprise.
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. It’s just that…” He lifts his twinkling eyes to mine. “After what you and I have been through together, how could you call yourself boring?”
The murders.
The kiss .
No, he means the murders. Of course he does. “You’re the one who saved me when I got into trouble. I didn’t do anything.”
“Didn’t you?” He rests his temple on his fist and gazes at me, an admiring smile on his face. “Do you ever think about how you picked up that lamp and smashed it across your attacker’s face? Do you think about stabbing one of them? I do. I think about it a lot.”
It wasn’t like it was a conscious decision. Cullan had a wild, angry expression in his eyes when he entered the room, and I was suddenly energized. He came to save me when I needed him.
Mr. Grant tucks my hair behind my ear. “When I say you are enough , it doesn’t mean I’ve measured you against some special criteria. It means that just by being you, kind, sweet Elena, I’m in awe of you.”
I suck in a breath. Maybe Cullan is just trying to make me feel better, but for a moment, I believe him. He speaks so sensitively about the idea of being enough that I wonder if he’s worried about the same thing.
“You sound like this is something you’ve struggled with as well. Being enough for someone.”
He grimaces. “My ex didn’t cheat on me, but she let me know she was gravely disappointed in the man I am.”
I clutch his hand, a pang going through me. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
Mr. Grant gazes at my fingers wrapped around his. “I’m getting over it.”
I’m filled with curiosity about Mr. Grant’s past. I know so little about him. “Can you tell me about her?”
He turns his hand over, palm up, and gently holds mine. “What would you like to know?”
“Why didn’t things work out between you two?”
He thinks for a moment, idly caressing my thumb with his. “We wanted different things. I wanted more children, and she wanted more freedom. I couldn’t be the real me around her, so piece by piece, I shut her out, and that hurt her.”
“Who’s the real Cullan Grant? ”
He smiles, and strokes the pad of his thumb across my palm. “Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever been my whole self before, but I feel like I’m getting closer.”
I rarely let my eyes linger on Mr. Grant, because otherwise, I’d be staring at his handsome face nonstop. Sitting so close together on his sofa in his warm, cozy house while he holds my hand, I give myself permission to drink him in.
When I first met Mr. Grant, he had a solemn, washed-out look. He wore bland, pale colors. He had the air of a man who was trying to fade into the background.
Now, he has a glow. He wears black more often, a striking color on him that enhances his handsome features. He’s not so careful about covering his tattoos, and he moves with newfound confidence and authority.