Page 101 of Eleanor & Grey
“It’s not,” he said, then threw me a curveball: “I don’t know how to get it back.”
“Get what back?”
“My family.”
“Do you miss your girls?”
“Every day.”
“And you want to be in their lives?”
He sighed and his nose wrinkled up as he placed his glass down then put his hands on the back of his neck. “When I look at them, I don’t only see their mother. I see what I took away from them. I took away the glue of this family, and I don’t know how to get it back. So much time has passed now that I don’t even know if I’m allowed to have them back.”
“Yes, you are.”
“You saying it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s true.”
“No, you’re right, but it is true. They’ll take you back—without question, without hesitation.” I tilted my head. “Well, Karla might have a little hesitation, but that’s just because she’s Karla, and I think she’s stubborn.”
“I don’t know where she gets that.”
I smirked and rolled my eyes. “Yeah, no clue whatsoever.”
“I don’t even know where to start, really, how to even approach bringing myself back into their lives.”
“First you, then them. You need to help yourself first, Greyson. You have to get your mind right before you can be what your daughters need you to be. Plus, I can be your wingwoman.”
“My wingwoman?”
“Yeah, I’ll come up with excuses and events that we can all attend together. We’ll do an activity once a week. Then it will give you a chance to really connect with the girls.”
“You’d do that for me?” he asked, seemingly shocked by my offer.
“Greyson... you went out of your way to sit with me once every week when my mom was sick. You helped me breathe. It’s only right that I return the favor. So what do you say? Will you let me be your wingwoman?”
He kind of smirked, and I kind of loved it.
Whatever.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
I held out my pinky toward him. “Pinky promise?”
He linked his pinky with mine. I tried to ignore the butterflies that began to stir in my stomach, because those butterflies had no right to even exist.
When it came time for me to leave, I stood up and walked to the front door. The night sky was deep blue and drunk with stars. Greyson walked me out to the porch with his hands in his pockets.
“Thank you for staying,” he said.
“Of course. I hope you’ll be OK.”
He nodded once. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Does that mean I still have a job?” I asked, somewhat joking based on my new wingwoman position.
“If you’re still willing to work for me, that is.”
I smiled. “I’ll see you on Monday, Greyson.”
