Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Grayson’s deep voice slid over Wren like a warm caress, and for one perfect, impossible second, her heart soared.
Because he was finally looking at her and seeing…her.
Then she looked him in the eye, and everything inside her crashed.
His expression wasn’t warm or teasing. He wasn’t giving her that crooked grin that she’d become entirely too fond of during their chats about books.
Instead, he looked angry.
“You know,” she whispered.
Grayson folded his arms across his chest. “I know.”
Ice flooded her veins. Mom always swore that the truth eventually found its way out. Apparently today was the day.
“Grayson—” she started, wondering what the hell she was going to say.
He shook his head. “You lied to me.” His voice wasn’t loud, which somehow made this even worse. The hurt she heard underneath those words cut straight through her.
“I can explain.”
Could she though?
Sure, the switch had felt harmless enough when it was just her and Lark working to save her sister’s job. Who the hell would have expected feelings to emerge from the simple task of pouring wine at a festival for a couple of days?
Grayson laughed, the sound harsh and completely unlike him.
Wren glanced around the library. It was almost closing time. Actually, it was probably a little past, so no one else was around. Not that she felt in danger. In truth, she was relieved no one was here to overhear her confess to something she was quite ashamed of.
“I’m sorry.” She started with those words, since they were the ones she felt were most important.
“I don’t know what kind of game you and your sister were playing, but—”
“It wasn’t a game,” she interjected quickly.
“Really?” His eyes darkened. “Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell looks like one.”
She flinched. “No. Honest. We just—”
This time, it was Grayson who interrupted. “You lied to me. Pretended to be someone you weren’t.”
That was the part she couldn’t refute. Because she had.
Then she considered the other women in his past. The one who lied about being single, the one who lied about being pregnant.
She swallowed hard. “I hated doing that.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
“Grayson,” she tried again, taking a step closer to him. Her heart literally shattered when he matched that step, taking an even bigger one away from her.
“You’ve had three chances to tell me the truth since the festival.”
His words felt like a physical blow. “I know.”
“You could’ve come clean anytime,” he continued, his voice rough.
The disappointment in his eyes hurt even more than the anger.
“But you chose to keep lying. You know what happened between us at that festival, yet you let me believe that kiss we shared was with Lark. You acted like I was a fucking stranger the first time I came in here. Even after that weekend.”
Wren wanted to say something, but her throat was clogged, closed tight, so the silence stretched between them, heavy and painful.
She had kept up the pretense, thinking she was protecting Lark and her job, but as she stood here, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d remained silent because she was actually protecting herself.
Perhaps she’d been fooling herself, thinking she’d turned a corner and finally left the past behind. Grayson was the first man she’d ever let herself get close to—not just physically, but emotionally as well—and admittedly, that had freaked her out.
So had she continued the lie as a way to hold him at arm’s length? Had she been attempting to self-sabotage this thing between them because her fear was still winning?
She hadn’t considered those things until this moment, but now, they felt like hard truths that were impossible to ignore.
If that had been her goal, then…job well fucking done.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, the words sounding pathetic and worthless.
Grayson stared at her for a long moment. Then he shook his head, making it clear her apology was not accepted.
Wren felt something crack inside her. “Grayson,” she began again, but he’d already turned away.
He paused when he reached the end of the aisle, and for one hopeful second, she thought maybe he was coming back, that he’d listen and understand, accept—
“Take care of yourself, Wren.”
Then he walked away. And just like that, he was gone.
The front door to the library opened and shut in the distance, as she remained frozen between the rows of books, staring at…nothing.
She tried not to fall apart.
She failed.
Forty-five minutes later, she climbed the steps to her apartment. Unlocking the door, she walked inside, closing it behind her. Ordinarily, she loved her walk home from work, enjoyed the leisurely stroll in the fresh air, soaking up the last rays of the day’s sun before it set.
Occasionally, she’d run into people she knew and would stop to chat. Growing up in a small town had its advantages. Like knowing practically everyone. Of course, that could probably be considered a disadvantage too.
Today, she’d hustled home, keeping her head down so that no one could see that she’d just spent the last half hour crying her heart out in the stacks of the library.
Mercifully, she didn’t run into anyone.
Gathering herself together, she did what she should have done the second Grayson left the library but hadn’t been able to.
She called Lark.
She needed to warn her sister that he’d figured it out, let her know that there was a very good chance—given his anger—that she could be fired.
Unfortunately, this call hadn’t been possible in the library because Wren couldn’t pull herself together. If she cried when she told Lark the news, her sister would realize Wren hadn’t been completely forthright about everything that had happened at the festival.
The last thing Wren wanted to do was confess about the kiss now, because…
God, Wren wasn’t even sure why she didn’t want to tell her sister. Lark had been her lifelong confidant, the person who knew literally every single one of her secrets.
With the exception of what she and Grayson shared that night in the hotel. And Wren wasn’t just thinking about the bed. They’d lain in the dark for nearly an hour just talking, and then, when he’d pulled her close and…
Wren ran her fingers over her lips, and she could swear she still felt the effects of that kiss. That incredible, mind-blowing, sexy kiss.
“No,” she said out loud to herself in the empty apartment. “No more.”
Drawing in a deep breath, she dialed her sister’s number, certain she was already too late with her warning. Stormy Weather Farm was only about a ten-minute drive from the library, so there was no question Grayson was already back home.
“Hey, sis,” Lark said, her voice easy and breezy enough that Wren knew Grayson hadn’t found her yet.
“He knows,” Wren said, dropping down on the couch and shaking her head over her tone. Jesus, could she sound any more horror-movie dramatic with that line?
“What?” Lark asked. The sound of glasses tinkling and soft laughter in the distance told her Lark was still at the winery. Wren could imagine her sister, balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder as she continued to work.
“Grayson. He knows I was the one working the festival. Not you.”
“Oh,” Lark said, her voice suddenly clearer. Apparently, she stopped whatever it was she’d been doing. “Shit.”
That was an understatement.
Wren squeezed her eyes shut. “He came to the library just before closing. Said he knew we’d switched places.”
“I wonder how he found out,” she mused.
“I’m not sure that matters, Lark.” Mainly because she’d already asked herself that question, and the answer she’d come up with was that Wren, herself, must’ve given it away.
She’d done a shitty job impersonating Lark at the festival, and since then, she’d continued to get drawn into conversations with him—at the library and the bar.
Obviously, it was only a matter of time before he would’ve put things together.
Answering that question for her sister would add yet another emotion—feeling stupid—to the guilt, sadness, and depression currently whirling around inside her.
“Yeah, I guess not,” Lark agreed. “You know what? I’m glad this happened.
I’ve been feeling like shit for lying to Nora because she’s a cool boss and she doesn’t deserve that.
Honestly, if that weekend hadn’t come right on the heels of her yelling at me, I probably would have just asked her if I could go to the Taylor Swift concert, and knowing her, she would have said yes.
It was a dumb thing to do, and I’m so sorry I dragged you into my stupidity. ”
“It’s okay,” Wren said. “I was the one who agreed to go along with it.” And she was the one who’d perpetuated the lie in the three weeks since rather than coming clean to Grayson.
The worst thing was the realization that Lark’s comment didn’t hold true just for Nora. If Wren had confessed what they’d done to Grayson during his first—or even second—visit to the library, he might have been understanding too.
“What a tangled web we weave…” she murmured, recalling something her mother used to say whenever she caught one of them in a lie.
“Was he mad?” Lark asked. “I mean, I know he’s a grumpy ass, but he wasn’t mean to you, was he? Because if he was—”
“He wasn’t mean. He was just…upset with us. He thinks we were playing a joke on him.”
“You didn’t tell him about the concert and why we did it?” Lark asked, clearly surprised.
“He didn’t give me a chance.”
Lark sighed. “This is all my fault, Wren. I’ll smooth things over with the Storms. If they want to yell and scream at someone, it should be me.”
Wren appreciated her sister’s offer, aware that Lark didn’t fully understand why Grayson’s anger had been directed at her. Once again, she considered telling her sister about the kiss. And once again, she rejected that idea.