Page 98 of Eleanor & Grey
I swallowed hard, feeling awful, knowing I’d just snapped on him while having no idea about his personal struggles. Of course he was struggling—how could he not?
“I had no clue,” I confessed. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed him.”
“It’s not your fault. You had no idea.”
I heard her words, and yet a tightness still remained in my chest. I felt nothing less than guilt.
When I had stormed into Greyson’s office, I’d entered not only as a concerned nanny but as a daughter who had many times been swallowed by anger at a father who’d emotionally abandoned her. I had gone in without a clear head and said things I shouldn’t have said. I’d barged into his space and snapped not only for Lorelai but for me, for every child who felt invisible to their parents.
While I had been hollering about the unjust situation at hand, I hadn’t had a clue about the storm Greyson was battling on his own.
Claire placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me a light squeeze. “You’re apologizing for pushing him, but I feel like that’s what needs to happen. Greyson needs a wake-up call from someone. He needs to be pushed, so thank you for that. Thank you for forcing him to break out of his slumber.”
“I don’t know if it helped him at all, and it doesn’t matter much anyway, since he fired me.”
Claire gave me a smile and shook her head back and forth a bit. “Give it the weekend. He just needs to get through it, that’s all. One day at a time. You’ve outlasted all the other nannies by months, and that has to count for something. Sodon’t go dusting off your resume just yet. Let some of the smoke clear.”
* * *
I should’ve headed home after Greyson fired me. I should’ve been curled up on my couch with a novel and tea, but I couldn’t do it because that felt wrong. I couldn’t wrap my head around leaving Greyson on what would be the loneliest, hardest night of his life.
He had stayed on the phone with me for hours the night my mother passed away, never once leaving me alone. I owed him the same thing he’d given me—companionship.
After some time, I walked to Greyson’s front door and knocked, but he didn’t answer, even though I could see him through the window. He stood in the living room, staring at the roaring fire, holding something in his hands.
I knocked once more, and he didn’t move in the slightest.
With a deep breath, I took out my keys and unlocked his front door. I was already fired—what was the worst he could do now? Call the cops on me for breaking and entering with the key he’d given me?
I’d take my chances with that.
“Greyson,” I said softly, moving in his direction.
He didn’t react to my voice, not even a flinch, as if he hadn’t heard me.
“Greyson, are you OK?” I walked closer to him, my nerves building up with each step. He turned around slowly, and when I saw his eyes washed over with emotion, my chest tightened.
He’d been crying. He had to have been.
No one’s eyes could’ve been that red and puffy if there wasn’t some kind of emotion spilling from them.
In his hands were Lorelai’s drawings.
“I’m fine,” he replied, turning back to the fireplace.
“I... It just looks like—” I started, but he cut me off.
“I thought I made it clear that your services were no longer needed here.”
“Yes, you did. I got that message loud and clear.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“Because you need me.”
“I don’t. Please leave.” He whispered the last two words, but his voice shook as they left his mouth. The pain sliced through his irritation with me.
“I can’t.”
