35. Gray
Gray
Sunday lunch comes around too quickly. My mother usually has us over only once a month, but I got a text during the week demanding my presence, and I have a feeling I know why.
As I enter the house, Maddy comes down the stairs toward me, a happy smile on her face. She’s in a long, green dress I haven’t seen before, and as I hug her, it feels as if there’s about thirty layers of fabric beneath my palm.
“You look fancy,” I say as she pulls back.
“You like it?” she asks, doing a little spin. It’s the oddest dress I’ve ever seen, but with four sisters, I know when to keep my mouth shut.
“Very nice,” I say, trying to sound sincere.
She rolls her eyes at me. “You will never understand fashion, Gray. Mom wants to talk to you.”
“Yeah. I figured.”
“Why didn’t you bring Jacqueline? She’s way better company than you.”
“I figured that too,” I say wearily, walking to the kitchen.
The door frame is conspicuously bare. That’s a classic thing my mother does, too. She’ll say she loves a gift to someone’s face, but by the end of the day, it’ll be exchanged or gone altogether.
I can’t help but smile in disbelief when I notice that not only the wind chime is gone, but the whole hook has been wrenched out of the door frame.
“Hi Mom,” I say brightly, leaning up against the door as I see Lola slinking away into the sunroom.
My mother slams a pot onto the stove, stirring it vigorously before chopping up mushrooms so violently I wonder if she might slice off her thumb in the process.
She doesn’t answer me, continuing to cook, one of the pots on the stove boiling over. I go to it, turning down the heat.
“If your intention was to humiliate me, then you succeeded,” she snaps icily, pushing me out of the way and dumping onions into the sauce she’s making.
I step back, leaning against the window ledge, trying to keep my temper in check.
“I wasn’t trying to do anything,” I say.
“Margaret told me that you abandoned Sarah at the restaurant when someone who sounds suspiciously like Jax stormed in and accused you of cheating. Jax is clearly unhinged. You won’t be seeing her again.”
I am glad that my hands are in my pockets because my nails are digging into my palm so hard I can feel my heartbeat.
“Take this out to the table,” she says, thrusting a bowl of salad at me. “And call your sisters.”
I walk out without another word, but when I enter the dining room, all of my sisters are already assembled. I place the salad bowl down and sit opposite Lola.
“We’re here for the fireworks,” she stage-whispers at me. “This is the best fuck up you’ve made in ages.” I scowl at her as my mother comes in.
After the dishes are set down and everyone helps themselves to a plate, it takes my mother thirteen seconds to bring it up again.
“You will go on another date with Sarah to make up for this disaster, Gray,” she says, stabbing at her plate as my sisters all eat in silence around us. “I can’t believe you didn’t have the common decency to check on the poor woman. You left her at the restaurant!”
“You did what?” Lola asks, sounding scandalized, her spoon halfway to her mouth. I glare at her as she hides a triumphant smile. My fucking traitor of a sister knows full well what happened with Sarah, because I called her the next day to tell her about it, and she found the whole thing hilarious.
I hold back the urge to kick her underneath the table.
“He walked out on her, in the middle of their date,” my mother continues. “All because that nightmare of a woman turned up and started ranting and raving like a lunatic.”
“Jax is not a nightmare,” I snap. The words are caustic, reverberating around the table like a cannon shot.
My mother looks up at me, her eyes wide with shock. “What did you just say to me?” she whispers.
“Don’t talk about her that way. I’m a grown man, mother, I don’t need you to set me up on dates with the daughters of your friends anymore. If I ever find someone I want to be with it will be my choice. No one else’s.”
My mother scoffs. “As long as it isn’t that awful—”
“It’ll be who I decide.” I really need to lower my voice, but I can’t. “I can date whoever I want, and I will. Stop trying to control my life. You don’t have a say in whether or not I see Jax, so stop acting like you do. She matters to me, and that’s all that counts.”
It feels as if every one of my sisters is holding their breath. Lola is staring at me, all traces of a smile gone from her face. Her fork is suspended, gravy dripping onto her plate as Carrie, Maddy, and Erica all stare at my mother.
I see the tears forming in her eyes, but they're crocodile tears. This is a tactic of hers. If she doesn’t get her way, she starts to cry to make sure everyone has to back down.
I glare at her, feeling empowered for the first time in my life.
Jax taught me that. My mother has far too much sway over my decisions, and I won’t be led by her any longer.
I fight the urge to apologize as she rises, throws down her napkin, and storms from the room. There is the thudding of footsteps up the stairs and the crash of a door closing, and then everyone breathes out.
“Fuck, well done, Gray,” Carrie says, and I glance over at her.
“I shouldn’t have said that. You’re all gonna have to deal with the fallout.”
“Ha! I don’t care. I’ll be living off the shock on her face for weeks,” Carrie murmurs.
“Did you really abandon someone at a restaurant?” Erica asks, frowning at me. “Because that’s not okay.”
“I know, but if I tell you she was the most self-centered woman on earth, does that change things?”
Erica looks back at her plate. “I mean, not really. There are better ways to break up with a person, Gray.”
“We weren’t breaking up...” I sigh, shrugging a shoulder. “You’re right. It was a cowardly thing to do, but she pissed me off within thirty seconds of meeting her.”
“Did Jax really show up and make a scene?” Carrie asks, sounding delighted.
“Uh, yeah. She even threw wine at me for good measure.”
They all burst out laughing at that, except Erica, who looks even more disapproving, and I catch Carrie's eye as Lola raises a glass to Jax. My little sister is watching me with a strange look on her face, and I’m not sure how to interpret it.
Once dinner is cleared away and everyone is silently moving around the kitchen, making sure it’s spotless for when my mother eventually gets over her tantrum and emerges from her room, I head into the sunroom.
It was my father’s favorite room in the house, and it’s still beautiful, filled with plants on every surface and old wicker furniture that would have been replaced years ago, if not for its nostalgia.
Carrie is curled up on one corner of the couch reading, and I’m relieved when the others all gravitate to the main living space, and we have a moment alone as I lower down beside her.
“How have things been?” I ask.
“Torture,” she mutters. “But I finally heard from Annabelle.”
“Oh yeah? What did she say?”
“She wants to talk,” she shrugs. “But I think just so she can give me back my stuff.”
“I’m sorry, Carrie. I hope it’s not what you think.”
“Me too, but I kind of screwed this up, so it’s my fault really.”
I punch her playfully in the arm. “Stop blaming yourself for everything, kiddo.”
“Don’t call me kiddo.”
I sigh as she swings around on the couch and drops her feet on my thighs, stretching out.
“I have to say I was surprised you defended Jax like that,” she says, and I turn to her, irritation spiking.
“Why wouldn’t I? She’s my girlfriend.”
Carrie snorts. “Uh, yeah, sure.”
I look over at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I just didn’t think things were very, like, serious between the two of you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Carrie says, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Maybe because there was a massive pile of money behind her when I walked in on you guys? I figured either she has a kink for that kind of thing—”
“Carrie!”
“Or she’s an escort. I mean, there’s no way you could get someone that hot without paying for it.”
I throw her legs off my lap and stand up. She recoils from me but doesn’t back down, raising her eyebrows defiantly.
“What? I’m not judging, I just think it was pretty obvious you didn’t know each other well. The way you were together didn’t make sense. You clearly don’t care about her.”
“Of course I fucking do!” I snap and immediately close my eyes when I see the look of triumph on her smug little face.
“I knew it,” she says happily. “I just wanted to check.”
“You’re such a bitch,” I mutter.
“Hey!” Lola says, coming in behind me. “Don’t call your youngest sister a bitch, you asshole.”
“Hey, don’t call him an asshole, you whore,” Carrie retorts, and Lola laughs, skirting around me and lowering onto the couch beside our sister.
“What are you two fighting about?” she asks as Carrie puts her legs onto Lola’s lap instead.
“I was just pointing out to Gray that he loves Jax.”
“I do not—”
“Why is this news?” Lola asks. “She’s amazing. I might fall in love with her if I didn’t have Martin. She has the kind of legs I’ve wanted all my life. Don’t let her slip away, Gray.”
“You are both unbelievable. I am not—” I stop, and Carrie gives me a meaningful look.
“You’re not, what?”
“I hate you.”
“Why is this a revelation to you, Gray? Honestly, men are so useless,” Lola says with an impatient sigh. “You just stood up to our mother for Jax. You didn’t even do that with Leyla. You haven’t ever done it, and you think you don’t care about this woman? Please...”
I stare at my sisters, my gut churning, chest tight. I want what they’re saying to be completely wrong, to be able to brush it off as their ridiculous view of what love is and their obsession with who I’m dating.
But I can’t drown out the voice in my head telling me everything they’ve said is correct. That Jax matters, that right from the start, when I first laid eyes on her, I knew my life would never be the same.