After
AFTER
By morning, we’ve christened four other pieces of furniture and still have fifteen to go. We’ve also gotten roughly two hours of sleep, and that much only at my absolute insistence. Apparently, age hasn’t robbed Grayson of the ability to function on fumes, but I suppose nobody’s perfect.
We breakfast in the kitchen in our underwear, trading bites of omelet. Grayson insists on lighting the lantern and putting it on the kitchen table, and I don’t argue. I even consider getting a tattoo of the thing, then decide he already has enough for the both of us.
eating, he goes through my suitcase, tossing out half the clothes I’m convinced I’ll need and adding a few basic pieces he insists will save space because they can be layered. Then he asks where my outlet adapters are.
I give him a blank stare. “Um...my what?”
“Your adapters. You don’t think you can just plug your American computer into a European outlet, do you?”
“No.” I scoff. “Of course not. I’m not that dumb.”
He peruses my suitcase, then turns solemn eyes on me. “You absolutely thought that, didn’t you?”
I can’t help it. I laugh. “Hey. I’ve never done this before, remember?”
His mouth snicks up at the corners. “Why do you think I’m checking your work?”
Thankfully, he’s got spare outlet adapters . He lugs my suitcase out to his red Batmobile and transfers a couple plugs from his bag to mine. “I like to keep an extra set with me. Just in case.”
“Thanks,” I say. “That would’ve sucked.”
“Anytime.”
Before I know it, it’s noon. Time to go. In the car, he holds my hand atop the gearshift and whips us out of the driveway at breakneck speed.
I squeal, even though I secretly love it.
I don’t look back.
Halfway to Seattle, I finally ask, “What is this thing, anyway? A Lotus?”
Grayson huffs. “What? No. It’s a Dodge Viper.”
“Oh. Are those really different?” Mostly, I say it just to see the look on his face, which is nothing short of comical.
“Jesus Christ,” he says. “I don’t know if I can marry you now.”
“That’s fine.” I smile, taunting. “I’ve already done the marriage thing, anyway. Wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
His eyes widen, as if he can’t believe I said that, and he goes quiet for a while. Then, “Do you hate Michael? For what he did?”
I look out the window. That’s a question I’ll probably be trying to answer for the rest of my life. “I don’t know. Do you?”
“Yeah,” he says. “More for your sake than mine. But yes.”
I nod. “Well, wherever he is, maybe he’s with Lily. Maybe she’s taking care of him and he got what he wanted. Maybe we all did, and that’s all that matters, in the end.”
Grayson squeezes my hand. “Maybe.”
I don’t really believe that, but hey. Anything’s possible.
That’s for damn sure.
At Sea-Tac, Grayson wheels both suitcases inside. I try to take command of my own, but he insists on being chivalrous, and I don’t fight him too hard.
It’s nice to be taken care of.
Still, my nerves buzz as we pass through the sliding doors of the terminal. I don’t want to say goodbye. God, I don’t want to say goodbye...ever.
But I know I have to go.
We find the line for my flight first. Grayson has already checked in electronically—something I’ll probably have to figure out one of these days.
As I move to join the mile-long queue, he catches at my elbow and pulls me close, making us into an island of stillness amid the heaving crowd. When I look up, my breath snags in my lungs, as if I’m seeing him for the first time all over again.
His golden hair tumbles over one eye, gleaming in the light from the windows. He studies me while a girl squeals his name in the background.
Neither of us turn to look.
“I want to ask you something,” he says.
My breath thins. “Okay?”
“Not to stay, of course. I’m not that selfish. But I was wondering if...maybe...you’d let me come with you?”
The airport falls silent, its bustle a thousand miles removed from this moment. “What, to Greece?”
“Yeah,” he says.
“Right now ?”
“Right now.”
“Instead of Malaysia?”
“Yep.”
A tingle sweeps through me. “But what’ll happen if you don’t show up to your assignment?”
“I don’t know. They’ll fire me, probably. Who gives a shit?”
“ I do. I can’t just let you torpedo your career for my sake.”
“Why not?” A smile plays around his mouth. “It’s not like I wouldn’t have another one lined up. Siobhan’ll welcome me with open arms.”
I stare, my heartbeat unfolding inside me like a song. “You mean the two of us? Hopscotching around the world together?”
His expression turns almost shy. “That’s the idea. What do you think?”
“I think... Dear god. Yes.” I pull him down and kiss him, frantically, right there in the atrium. Neither of us seems to care about our audience, because his tongue goes diving into my mouth as if we’re alone.
When I finally come up for air, I find Grayson’s arm outstretched, his middle finger aimed at a teenage boy with elaborate camera gear who’s enthusiastically taking our picture.
I force his hand down. “Oh my god, what are you doing? Is this what life is going to be like with you?”
His grin turns wolfish. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
I pretend to consider.
“You know what?” He plants another kiss on me. “Never mind. It’s way too late to change your mind. I have no idea why I just said that.”
I snake one arm around his waist. “Well, in that case, then I think you owe that poor boy an apology. He’s probably just a... What was it you said? A broke, hungry kid who likes to take pictures? Give him something he can use, at least.”
His eyes narrow. “Like what?”
I spiderwalk my fingers up his chest. “You could let him take a picture of your tattoo. My tattoo. Let him be the very first one.”
He looks distinctly unamused. “You want me to pull my shirt up right here? Just flash all these people?”
I smirk. “Why not?”
He heaves a sigh, but in the end, he actually does it, holding my eyes with a mock look of suffering. Somewhere behind us, a girl shrieks in delight, and the teenager frantically snaps away, and it’s absolutely the most ridiculous situation I’ve ever participated in, but at the same time, it’s also one of the most intoxicating.
At the check-in desk, Grayson plops down his credit card and books a thirty-six-hundred-dollar last-minute ticket to Athens.
I wince as he scribbles his name on the receipt and tosses the pen aside. The twenty-something desk girl stares at him with naked awe.
“Are you sure about this?” I say.
He shrugs. “I still owe you a ticket to Greece, don’t I? At least you’re actually letting me buy one this time. Even if it’s my own.”
I hearken back to that day on the sidewalk, outside my great-aunt’s house. “How were you going to pay for my ticket, anyway? Weren’t you broke back then?”
“Completely. But I had Michael’s credit card. You have no idea how disappointed I was when I didn’t get to see the look on his face after charging it.” He chuckles, soft and sad.
I mirror his melancholy smile.
“Anyway,” he says, “I can afford it now. Not that I’m rich, or anything. You do know that, right? I spent my TV money on the Viper, but... I just live in a normal house like a normal guy.”
“Really?” I raise my eyebrows. “I thought all famous people were rich.”
“You’d think. But at the end of the day, I’m just a photographer.”
My fingers sneak into the gap between his T-shirt and jeans, brushing against warm, solid muscle. God, I can’t seem to stop touching him. “It’s okay. I don’t mind being your sugar mama. Though you might have to find ways to continually earn it.”
He grins. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I think I can live with that,” he says.