14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Laynie
When I was in primary school, I remember begging my parents for a pet. It wasn’t fair that the Lawson’s had a ranch with sheep, cows, horses, goats, and chickens. They even had alpacas at one point, who were adorable if they weren’t spitting on you.
One day, I came home to see a fishbowl in my bedroom.
There was one tiny goldfish, who I named Goldie.
I know, so original… I kept him alive for almost two years, and was even sad when he died, even though he didn’t do much.
Every day I would come home, and he would just be there, staring at me with wide eyes and an open mouth, waiting for me to feed him.
That’s how Grayson looks right now. Like Goldie. Mouth in an O shape. Eyes so flared it looks almost painful, and he isn’t blinking.
The rush of adrenaline sears through my blood as I fold my arms over my stomach, attempting to control their trembling, but it’s useless.
My entire body shivers as tears burn the back of my eyes.
I can’t remember what Charlotte told me to do in this sort of situation.
I can’t really remember anything right now.
Not with the way he’s looking at me, as if he doesn’t even recognise me.
“Gray…” I choke out.
He blinks, as if realising that this is real. That I just spilt my secret. Right here. In the bathroom of his family home.
“You…” he breathes, trying to string a sentence together. It dies on his lips, just like the possibility of us being something more than friends. Dead.
I had to watch the earth-shattering moment when he realised the truth, twisting my gut like briars and cutting through my lungs like thorns. My breath catches as I struggle to suck in any air. Is it hotter in here?
I can’t stop the quivering of my lips, the erratic thumping of my heart as I step away from him, the rest of the world swimming around me as I cling to the bathroom doorway.
His gaze, unmoving from mine, is sharp and shocked, much like the rest of him. “You…” he repeats, unable to get anything else out, and it hits me right in the heart as bile rises in my throat.
Choking on a breath, I spin and vomit in the toilet bowl. My pulse hammers in my ears, hands shaking uncontrollably as tears prickle my eyes. Holding onto the wall, I try collecting myself. My anxiety rages inside of me like an untamed tidal wave.
I feel his hand on my back.
“Laynie.”
Turning to face him, my hand covers my mouth as a sob wracks my body. Grayson kneels beside me, one hand on my back, the other holding onto the wall as I break apart.
“I didn’t—” I hiccup. “It wasn’t—”
“You’re… p-pregnant.”
My cries turn ugly, and all I can do is nod.
Body crumbling, I fall to my butt, weakened from the jarring situation.
Grayson catches me. His arms are strong and forceful, holding me as I continue to crack.
Sweating and shivering, I choke on oxygen as he silently holds me, still too stunned to speak.
“When did you…?”
“In Sydney. Twelve weeks ago,” I breathe out hoarsely.
His jaw tightens as he glances away, and my heart stutters at the look on his face. He’s disappointed in me. It’s hard not to miss. Guilt and shame wrap themselves around my soul as I drop my chin, unable to see his expression anymore when his grip on me tightens.
“You slept with someone.” I hear the hollowness in his tone.
Sniffing, I nod, hair falling like a curtain around me, protecting me. His breath is uneven as it hits my ear. He’s so close yet feels like an eternity away in the same moment. I cling to him.
“Who was it?” he asks quietly, his voice echoing off the tiled walls.
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t think he wants anything to do with me. He won’t pick up my calls,” I rasp.
He murmurs something under his breath that honestly sounds something like he’d murder the guy, but I don’t ask him to repeat himself. Instead, I grip onto him, sobbing against his shoulder as he strokes my hair.
“He’s an idiot if he doesn’t do anything,” Grayson admits, although it sounds distant and hollow.
My throat works as I blink up at him; there is a shadow in his eyes and a wrinkle in his brows.
“It’s not like it matters.” My voice catches as another tear slips down my cheek. “I don’t even like him, G.”
He holds my gaze before wiping my cheek clean. I press my skin against the smoothness of his thumb. “Then why did you sleep with him if you don’t like him?”
The lump in my throat builds, and when I think I might be sick again, I shake my head, averting my gaze. “I-I don’t know,” I let out weakly.
I do know, but he doesn’t need to.
“I feel like I screwed up everything,” I murmur.
Grayson stares at me before cradling the back of my head, rocking my body gently. “You haven’t. You’re still the capable, strong woman I know.”
I let out a loaded sob as his head rests on mine. I feel his heart beating against my arm. It’s somehow steady, comforting, keeping me in check as I continue to break down my walls a bit for him.
My best friend. The love of my life. The one person I wanted to be with and might not now that he knows what I’ve done. He might not see it, but I’ve ruined everything. My plan has been thrown out the window now.
“But I feel like I have.”
His hands are on my face, lifting my chin to stare into his eyes as he holds my gaze. It’s warm and familiar, exactly what I need right now. “You haven’t, Laynie. You’ve just detoured a little, that’s all. You’re still the best baker I know, and you’re still my best friend.”
Best friend.
Feels like a slap in the face, but he’s right. I am still his best friend, but that’s all I ever will be. Even if Scott returns my calls and agrees to go through this with me, we won’t love each other. We might tolerate each other, but that’s all.
It won’t be real.
What I feel for Grayson is real, but he’s drawing that line between us. The line that specifically states what we are.
Best friends.
Nothing more and nothing else.