Page 96 of When We Had Forever
It’s something I never would have said to Michael, but it just comes right out, like breathing. I don’t even brace for the fallout. And I don’t think I’m imagining the answering approval on Grayson’s face.
“You seem...different today,” he says.
“Ifeeldifferent.” I don’t know if it’s him, or this place, but part of me is...unstretching. Flowering into the kind of woman who insists on finding double entendres where they don’t exist and getting excited about strip Monopoly.
I don’t even recognize myself.
No, that’s not right. I do. Except the girl wearing my skin today feels like a younger, lighter version of anyone I’ve ever been before. Maybe she’s who I would’ve grown into if my brother hadn’t died. Or if I’d gone off to Greece instead of getting married.
“I like this side of you,” Grayson says.
“Me, too.”
He holds my eyes for a moment, then unpacks the grocery bag. After igniting the burner, he melts together butter and brown sugar, and—
No way.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I say. “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”
He pours in a clatter of corn kernels, then covers the pot and shakes. “If you think I’m making you kettle corn, then yes. I am.”
His oh-so-casual tone renders me speechless. When I finally find my voice again, I say, “I’ve never seen anyone do it that way before.”
“Well, I’ve never made it like this. But I did watch a YouTube video this afternoon, which is basically the same thing. No guarantees on quality, though.”
He jostles the pan with the same focus he directed toward boxing up the game last night. His muscled shoulders bunch and roll, visible even through his jacket, and it seems impossible to me that someone with such an abundance of power—enough to get him up the tallest mountain in the world, for god’s sake—would harness it for something like this.
But he has, and the realization carves out a home beneath my skin. This isn’t one of those grand gestures Michael made so freely—no bouquet of hothouse roses in December, no twinkling diamond tennis bracelet or candlelit evening at a five-star restaurant.
No, this ispersonal.
I step fully into the room. “Why on earth didn’t you say something earlier, when I told you that you should’ve brought thisexact thing?”
He slides a smile my way—mischievous, prideful. “Because I wanted to see the look on your face. Which, as it turns out, was one hundred percent worth it.”
A tender barb catches in my throat. One hand sneaks up to play with an earring, as if giving my fingers something to do will quell this swell of emotion.
I have no idea what to do with this man.
I thought I did, but...
Sex, I tell myself.Just have mind-blowing sex with him, maybe for a day, maybe two. Then he’ll jet off to New Zealand, and you can go home and get on with your life.
“What?” he says. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s nothing.” I play at a smile. The gunfire pop of exploding kernels ricochets off the yellowed linoleum. “I just can’t wait for my dessert.”
And then, because I don’t want him to see how deeply the simple act of him making popcorn has affected me, I add, “Both of them.”
By the time we polish off the kettle corn, I’ve managed to get myself back on track. I think.
The tide of golden light beyond the windows fades to a gleam. Grayson adds a few logs to the fire before freeing the Monopoly box, then sets the lantern back on the table. “Can we light this?”
“Sure. But why? The fire’s plenty bright.”
He stares at the battered old thing, his expression indecipherable. “I just like it. Something about it reminds me of you.”
“Ofme? A lantern reminds you of a girl you just met?”
