39. Chapter Thirty-Nine
And the caption read, “Awkward family gathering.”
* * *
My mother is a grown-up toddler. We lost. We lost fair and square, and sure, I’ll take some of the blame for that. I’m rusty. I don’t play all that often. But my mother—my mother!—was more worried about her appearance on the court, so that she nearly got a ball to her face, which started the feud, which ended with the loss.
To say I’m embarrassed is an understatement. I wish I knew where the backdoor to this place was. What if someone sees me with her?
“MaryEllen needs to understand her place,” my mother says as we walk through the club. She’s not quiet about it either. She wants to be heard, and I want to not be seen. “Oh, look. Your father is here,” she says and begins to walk toward the lounge with a pace and gait that I’m not used to seeing her use.
At the same instant that I see who my father is sitting with. Graham lifts his head, and his eyes go wide.
“Sweetheart,” my mother says as she sets her hand on my father’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you’d be here this morning.”
He looks up at her, his sunglasses on, and nods. “I had some business to do. You know Graham Crowley?” he asks, and my mother holds her limp hand out to Graham.
Graham stands and shakes her hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Malloy,” he says.
“It’s Ella,” she says almost curtly. She hates going by my father’s last name.
Graham nods and lifts his eyes to mine.
“Good morning, Christina,” he says with a smile.
“Good morning,” I say, but I don’t move toward him. I don’t know what to do in this situation.
With his family, it was easy. They accepted us. They sat around a dinner table and smiled when Graham would hold my hand, whisper in my ear, or kiss me gently. His family welcomed us at the door with hugs and kisses and sent us home with the same.
My mother doesn’t accept our relationship. Nor would she ever accept any relationship I might be in.
I’m not even sure my father knows about our relationship. He doesn’t know anything about me at all.
“Are you dining here?” My father asks my mother.
My mother wrinkles her nose. “Of course not.”
“Then we’ll see you later.” He turns his attention back to Graham, who is looking up at me, lost for what to do or say.
I give him a smile and follow my mother out of the club.
“Why does he do business here? Then it’s in everyone’s ears,” she says as we wait for the valet to pull our cars around. “What are they discussing?”
“I don’t know.”
She looks up at me, her eyes shielded by a dark pair of Chanel sunglasses.
“You don’t know? Don’t you and your boyfriend discuss this kind of thing?”
“No, we don’t,” I say, because I’m equally confused as to what Graham is doing at the club with my father. He didn’t mention that he was meeting with my father.
Why didn’t he mention it?
There’s a lump in my throat that’s choking me. A heat rises through me, and I feel dizzy. I press my fingertips to my forehead and draw in a deep breath.
He’s getting what he signed up for. No doubt my father is talking to him about a movie deal.
I grip my purse to me tighter. If he’s getting his movie, then what we have is over, right? That was the deal.
And since he didn’t stand up and move to me, hug me, or kiss me, there’s something wrong. I told that asshole that I loved him, and in the presence of my father, he couldn’t even show affection to me.
What did I expect when I agreed that this wasn’t just some scam anymore? I’d give anything to be part of the Crowley family, but the same will not hold true for anyone wanting to be part of my family. I’m stuck in this hell by myself for the rest of my life. I’ll never find a man who doesn’t just want to use me to get to my father, but who won’t stay to be part of my family.
My mother’s hand on my arm has me sharply turning, and I realize I’m nearly hyperventilating.
“What’s gotten into you? Is it that man?” my mother says.
“No,” I spit out the word. “It’s not the man. The man is fine. His name is Graham, and wouldn’t it be nice if you remembered that,” I say as my car is pulled into the drive and parked.
Without another word to my mother, I walk toward the car, tip the valet, because God knows that my mother probably won’t, and I head home.
Home, where nothing is expected of me, and nothing waits for me.
* * *
I’m bent over in down dog when my phone dings. Sweat drips on my mat as I ignore the text. When it dings three more times, I finally look at it.
I’m outside. Let me in?
Christina?
Sweetheart, can I come in?
Please?
They’re all texts from Graham.
Picking up my towel, I wipe at my face as I stand and hurry to the door. When I open it, I can see him out at the gate on the street.
I don’t have any idea what he’s doing here, but I’m going to venture to guess he’s here to tell me that this little thing we’re pretending to have is over because he got what he wanted.
I might as well get it over with.
I buzz him in, and he hurries toward me. There is an urgency in his eyes.
He grabs my arms and moves me back into my condo, but a moment later, he’s kicking the door closed and pushing me up against it.
His mouth is on my mouth.
His body is pressed firm against mine.
I lift my arms around his neck, and he hoists me to his waist. My legs wrap around him as he presses me to the door harder.
When we need air, we break apart, and his lips move down my throat, which only makes it harder for me to breathe.
When he reaches the swells of my breasts in my tank top with his lips, I let my head fall back against the door.
Graham moves us from the door and carries me down the hallway to my bedroom, his mouth back on mine, my legs still wrapped around him.
When his legs hit the bed, he lays me down on it. His fingers move right to the waistband of my pants, and he pulls them from my body.
I wrap my legs around him again to pull him down to me, but he shakes his head and begins to unbutton his pants.
This sexy silence makes me forget all of the things that were filling my head earlier.
Graham is here, and as he eases his pants down, he kneels in front of me, between my legs. The moment I feel his tongue lap at me, my body goes pliant to him.
I love this man. Whatever I’d been thinking before, I was wrong. I love him.