36. Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Six
I already knew the answer to my question, but I figured I’d send a text to the group chat anyway. The anticipation of their responses was what I was really after anyway.
Me:
Is it okay if Grey comes to dinner tonight?
Dad:
I thought you’d never ask!
Mom:
Yes x1000000
Me:
We’ll be there at 7. I love you both.
Mom:
Love you, sweetie.
Pleased, I tossed my phone on the counter, vowing to spend the rest of my afternoon in the little corner of my bedroom, writing away. My fingers couldn’t move fast enough for the thoughts flooding my mind.
Outside my window, the sun was slowly setting, the pink skies melting into the blue water, leaving me feeling hopeful for tonight’s events.
I opted for a pair of white linen shorts and a black scoop-neck body suit. He was always punctual, so I knew Grey would be here any minute, and I snagged one final look at myself in the mirror.
Reaching for my black crossbody bag, I opened the door to Grey making his way up the steps to my apartment.
“Good evening, gorgeous.”
“Hi,” I said, feeling light, the ocean breeze floating around us.
There was something different about him. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but he seemed… more content.
“Ready?”
“I am. The question is, are you?”
Placing a kiss on my forehead, he responded, “More than you know.”
Making our way down the steps, I spotted my favorite baby-blue Bronco and smiled. Grey walked me to the passenger seat before opening the door and motioning me inside.
“Do you think I could drive?” I asked.
His head swiveled so quickly I thought it might fly right off. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Be gentle on her,” he joked as he tossed the keys in my direction.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, anxiousness crawled up my throat. I wasn’t sure what made me feel like I could do this, but I might have been wrong. I’d driven since the accident, but I could count on one hand how many times, and most definitely not by choice. And now, here I was asking to drive.
Grey slid his hand over my right leg. “You good?”
Taking a deep breath, I put the key into the ignition and the car rumbled alive. “I will be.”
Little by little, things started feeling more comfortable. The drive was only about five minutes, but by the time we were pulling into my parents’ house, I felt like I’d overcome something.
Grey hopped out of the passenger side and made his way to mine. Swinging the door open, he held out his hand before pulling me into a tight embrace. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered, making the tiny hairs on my neck stand tall.
“I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you by my side.”
He responded with a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Then by your side is where I’ll stay.”
The smell of charcoal burning and a hint of citronella filled the air around us. As we moved toward the house, Grey stopped suddenly, pivoting back to the car. “Shit, I forgot something. One second.”
He was gone and back in a flash, and now he had a bushel of hydrangeas—lilac, of course—and a bottle of wine. “For your parents,” he stated.
“They’ll love them.”
Standing near the familiar door, I knocked once but pushed myself in before anyone could respond. “Mom… Dad… We’re here!” I yelled.
“In here,” Mom’s voice echoed.
We maneuvered our way through the living room and into the kitchen, where Mom was washing something in the kitchen sink and Dad was uncorking a bottle of red. From the sound of it, John and Jess were here too.
“Hi everyone,” I said, waving my hand in the air.
Grey immediately stepped up to my side. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan, it’s so good to finally meet you. Well, I guess I’ve already met you, sir.” Grey sent a smile in Dad’s direction. “And these are for you, Mrs. Morgan.” Grey’s voice was as confident and polite as ever.
“Oh, honey, it’s Kelli. It’s so nice to finally meet you, and you brought flowers. MJ, I think he might be a keeper.” My mom was beaming as she engulfed him in a hug, throwing her gaze in my direction.
“Same goes for me. Just call me Andrew,” my dad said, throwing his hand out.
“Andrew, it is,” Grey responded.
“Why don’t you go introduce Grey to John and Jess,” Mom suggested. “Dad and I will meet you in there.”
I turned, tugging him behind me and straight into the dining room. Stepping in, I admired the picture-perfect setup Mom had put together. A checkered tablecloth lay wrinkle-free on top of the long wooden table that’d been here since I was a kid.
She’d sat round jute placemats under classic white plates. On top of each plate was a folded linen napkin that matched the tablescape perfectly. Everything was cohesive, down to the candlesticks that were the same dark green as the little designs on the tablecloth. Mom loved hosting, she always had, and she’d take any excuse she could get to set a table for dinner.
“And this is John and Jess Mitchell, or who I like to call my bonus parents,” I said, giving them my biggest grin.
I shifted my eyes to Grey, awaiting his response. But before he could speak, a loud crash grabbed our attention.
“Shoot!” Jess screeched, reaching for the tipped-over wineglass, which added a red puddle to the list of table decorations. She popped up from her seat and blurred past us. “So sorry, I’m going to go grab some paper towels.”
Moving toward the spill, I attempted to help John scoop up the remainder of the wine without making more of a mess.
“I’ll go grab some water too, see if we can’t get that out of the tablecloth,” Grey piped in from just behind me.
“Here, here,” Dad said, tossing a bottle of club soda at me as he marched to the table. We both started drenching the stained areas. Mom would never say it out loud because she wouldn’t want to make Jess feel bad, but this was one of her all-time favorite tablecloths. Dad and I both knew it, so we worked frantically to save it.
John jumped in too, wiping down everything that’d been splattered with the dark cherry shade.
“Kelli, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s fine. A little red wine never hurt nobody,” Mom joked.
“I brought more wine,” Grey chimed in from behind the two women, sounding a bit less enthusiastic than I expected.
“He’s definitely a keeper,” Dad said, sending a wink my way. “Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes, so please, everyone, sit down and make yourselves comfortable. Grey, you’re the only newbie here, how would you like your steak cooked?” Dad paused. “And yes, this is a test, because yes, there is only one right answer.”
Grey softly laughed. “I’ll take it medium rare, sir.”
“No to the sir. But yes to the medium rare. You can stay.” Dad’s jokes were just that: dad jokes. He chuckled to himself as he stepped toward the porch that was located right off the dining room.
Sit , I mouthed to Grey while noticing Mom and Jess whispering in the corner, likely about Grey. I knew they worried about me and what my future looked like, and honestly, I’d had the same worries on more than one occasion.
Finally, everyone took a seat at the table. Grey and I on one side, Jess and John on the other, and Dad and Mom on either end.
“Andrew, this looks incredible.” Grey’s voice filled the room, but it sounded a touch unsteady. Reaching under the table, I rested my hand on his left thigh and gave him a little squeeze. His eyes caught mine, and without saying anything, I asked if he was okay. The almost non-existent nod he gave would have to suffice for now.
I chalked it up to nerves, but of course my intrusive thoughts started playing games with me, making me wonder if this dinner wasn’t up to his standards. Or maybe he was realizing that I didn’t fit into his world. Either way, the previous wave of excitement washed away and now a new wave of uncertainty wreaked havoc on my insides. Needless to say, I was dreading the next hour.
“Grey, what do you do?” My dad was seemingly unfazed by the lack of conversation in the room. Then again, reading the room had never been his strong suit.
“I’m currently trying to break into politics with the help of my father.”
“Grey’s father is Stanley Prescott. You know, the mayor of New York City. He just announced his campaign for re-election,” I blurted out.
“Oh shit, I thought I recognized that last name. Speaking of politics, John, did you see that new…” Dad’s voice faded into background noise as he and John continued on with their conversation, the one that had since turned into something completely irrelevant to Grey or me.
“Honey, do you two have plans for the rest of the summer?” Mom asked.
“Well, Grey asked me to be his date to his family’s big Labor Day party, but other than that, I’ll probably spend some more time writing. I think I might actually be getting somewhere with this story,” I responded, happiness cartwheeling through my belly.
“You’re writing again?” Jess asked.
“Yes. Well, I don’t really think I ever stopped writing. But now, I feel like I’m writing toward something instead of just aimlessly, you know what I mean?”
“I couldn’t be more elated to hear that,” Jess said.
“Me neither. I’m proud of you, MJ,” Mom added.
“We all are,” Dad chimed in.
The small talk that continued throughout dinner was just that—small. Not that I needed some extravagant conversation, but I just assumed there would be a lot more questions or at least a little more interrogation. Who was Grey, where was he from, what was he interested in, general questions that would allow everyone to get to know him better.
“Thank you both for dinner, it was delicious,” Grey said, hugging my mom and giving Dad a manly pat on the back. “I’m so glad to have finally met you both. Now I see where your daughter gets her witty personality and dashing good looks,” he joked. “But in all seriousness, I’d like to spend a lot more time with your daughter, and I hope that means I’ll be seeing you both too.”
Mom’s expression was one I could’ve taken a picture of. She adored him and she’d barely even had time to get to know him. Honestly, I couldn’t blame her, because I felt the exact same way. “Good night, Grey, and thank you so much for the purple hydrangeas.” Mom knew the meaning behind those flowers, so her extra emphasis on the color was to be expected.
And it was clear Dad felt the same. He didn’t share the same enamored look that Mom did, but I could tell by how comfortable he’d been with Grey that he, too, approved of him.
“Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell. It was nice to meet you,” Grey said, his voice floating through the entryway as he stepped outside.
“Bye, everyone. I love you all big,” I said, blowing air kisses every which way.
Grey and I walked hand in hand to the driveway, and I paused when he walked me to the passenger side.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” he said, smiling. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now. That’s all.”
I’d wanted tonight to be perfect. The people in that house were some of the most important people in my life and their opinion meant a lot to me. So, while Grey didn’t necessarily do anything wrong, things didn’t feel quite right either.
The drive was quieter than normal, but after getting back to my apartment, Grey started to filter back to himself.
Thankfully.
I almost pushed the topic multiple times, but my anxiety talked me out of it. I assumed that, per usual, it was something to do with his father, and while I wanted to be there for him, one could only talk about that man so much before everyone got exhausted. So instead, I brushed it away.
Everyone had off days, even Grey Prescott.
“Do you ever wonder why bad things happen to good people?” he pondered aloud, his strong body perched on my bed while I changed clothes.
I wanted to say “Yeah, only every single day,” but then, before I could speak, I spotted the picture of Liv and me on my desk. One thing I’d been telling myself for years whenever things felt hard or unfair was that Liv would never want me to feel sorry for myself. She truly believed everything happened for a reason, and I was desperate to cling to that.
At my lack of response, he started talking again. “Take you, for example. Why is it that you had to endure the loss of your best friend? Why is it that you had to process and grieve at such a young age? There are so many other people in this world who deserve a hurt like that, but not you.”
I wanted to agree with him, but I wouldn’t. For Liv.
“I hate to break it to you, but life’s not fair. I could spend my whole life asking ‘Why me?’ but then I’d spend my whole life looking for an answer that doesn’t exist. I could feel sorry for myself all day long, but that’s only hurting me. Did it fucking hurt? Like hell. But did I make it through? Day by day, I did.”
“Come here,” he demanded.
I bounced onto the bed, my legs straddling his waist and his hands landing on my thighs.
“Sometimes I get so deep into my thoughts, I let them consume me. And the thought of you enduring so much pain is something I’m still trying to comprehend. I never want you to hurt like that again.”
I wasn’t sure why he’d been so consumed by these particular thoughts tonight, but then again, I was fairly familiar with anxiety and she didn’t tend to give any reasons for her appearance.
“The thoughts will always be there, in my head too. I’d be lying if I said there weren’t days that I question why such an awful thing happened to me, but I choose to believe that everything happens for a reason, even the hard stuff. Otherwise, I don’t think I would make it out of bed most days.”
I collapsed onto his chest, finding safety as he wrapped his arms around me.
“Everything does happen for a reason, that I’m sure of,” he whispered.