by L. D. Davis
Hands touching. Groping. Tugging. Pulling. Slapping. Laughing.
The images burst into my brain so suddenly that I gasped with the shock of it and instantly pulled away from him. My stomach roiled.
Grant’s lustful gaze quickly shifted to deep concern as he took my face into his hands. He looked into my eyes, which I knew were wild with fear.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I…” No other words came out. I put my trembling hands on his and shook my head, unable to find the words.
The door burst open and Natalie and Dusky tumbled inside the room, momentarily distracting Grant. I snapped out of my frozen fear and scrambled off him and onto the floor, tripping over kid and dog alike. I raced into the bathroom and slammed and locked the door behind me.
After a couple minutes of noise, there were a few moments of silence before Grant lightly rapped on the door.
“Mayson?”
I leaned on the vanity with my head lowered as I tried to avoid my reflection in the large mirror.
“I’m okay,” I said as I tried to sound okay. “I’m going to take a shower and get ready for work.”
A pause, and then I heard, “I do have a key to this door. I can go get it, or you can let me in.”
I sighed with annoyance, and after another few seconds, I opened the door. He stood on the other side, watching me carefully for a little bit. I was preparing myself for the barrage of questions and demands for answers, but that didn’t happen.
Grant walked in, took me into his arms and embraced me. I was so surprised, that I didn’t embrace him back.
“This is the part where you put your arms around me and hug me back,” he said playfully. “Maybe I need a damn hug, too, you selfish wench.”
I laughed once, with relief and gratitude, and hugged him back. We stayed that way for a minute or so. It felt so nice to just be held. I didn’t want to let go, but we both had places to be, and we released each other.
“I have to finish getting ready and get out of here. I have bad guys to hunt.”
“The life of a human repo man,” I teased, my voice a little hoarse.
“Oh! That should be my street name. Repo Man.”
I shook my head and frowned. “You were corny thirteen years ago, but I think you have some kind of dad gene or something that makes you even cornier.”
He laughed and kissed my cheek.
“I hope I see you tonight after your meeting. If not, I’ll see you tomorrow after work.”
“What about Dusky?”
“Leave him here. At least he’s not alone all day, and if you can’t or won’t come tonight, I’ll take care of him.”
I pointed at him. “Don’t try to steal my dog. I stole him fair and square from Donya.”
“I can’t make any promises, Baby Girl.”
He kissed my cheek again and left.
A half hour later, mostly recovered from my mini breakdown, I walked out of the bedroom, just about ready to leave for work. I was running late, but for once, I wasn’t too bent out of shape about it. I was a little anxious, but not ready to turn into a monster about it. I still planned to stop for a coffee and pastry along the way, even if I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it like I usually did.
A young, dark-haired woman was in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher. She looked up and smiled at me.
“Hello,” she said, in a French accent. “I’m Juliette. Housekeeper, nanny…” She looked at Dusky. “Dog walker.”
“Oh, damn.” I felt bad for leaving yet another soul for the woman to care for. “I’m sorry. That’s my fault. I can—”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. Mr. Alexander said he will pay me a little more for the dog, and I do not mind. I like animals, and the children really like him.”
I glanced at said children, seated at the dining room table with their breakfasts.
“Okay, well…thank you.”
Juliette’s eyes quickly looked me over before she smiled again and turned away to tend to whatever nannies and housekeepers did. I felt rather awkward, as if I was doing a walk of shame, even though it was far from the truth.
“Mayson, I made you bweakfast,” Natalie said excitedly.
I looked at the small stack of pancakes on the table and raised an eyebrow, but as I approached, I saw that Natalie had two plates in front of her. One had a half-eaten meal on it, but the other one had two pancakes on it. There was a smiley face with curly hair messily drawn in whipped cream on the top pancake. Next to the smiling pancakes was a half a heart made out of strawberry slices.
“I ran out of wroom,” she said, pointing to the half heart. “But it’s a heart.”
The smiley face was a hot mess. The smile was crooked, one eye was bigger than the other, and the hair was beginning to melt, but…shockingly, I loved it. Natalie looked very proud of it.
“Thank you, Natalie.” I was surprised to feel tears prickling at my eyes.
I sat down beside her, and faster than the wind, Juliette was at my side with a knife, fork, and a small plate of bacon. She returned less than a minute later with a mug of coffee and a dish of cream and another full of sugar.
Part of me wanted to run away from the little domestic scene, run far, far away, but more of me than I would have imagined wanted to do as Grant said. I wanted to stop worrying, stop thinking, stop analyzing, and follow my heart.
Looking down at my breakfast, I felt that maybe Natalie got it right. Maybe my heart was right where I was.
I smiled at the kids and dug in.
Chapter Thirteen
“Where are my shoes?” I asked, turning in a circle in the middle of Grant’s bedroom. “They were right by the bed before I went into the shower.”
“I don’t remember seeing them,” Grant said distractedly as he fooled with his cufflinks.
I dropped to the floor and looked under the bed, but they weren’t there. As I got to my feet, I heard a very distinct CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP coming from the living room. My suspicions high, I walked out of the bedroom.
“Natalie Alexander!” I said in a mom-like voice I didn’t know I had until I started dating Grant and his kids. “I told you not to touch my shoes!”
“But I want to go to the balway!” she cried, wobbling in my four-inch heels.
“It’s ballet,” Alex said, not taking his eyes off his game.
“Natalie,” Juliette said admonishingly as she came out of the laundry room with a basket of clothes. She proceeded to chastise the child in French and English.
As she sat down on the floor to take the shoes off, Nat said, “I don’t understand Fwrance talking, Julie.”
“She basically said you’re an idiot,” Alex said casually from the couch.
“Hey, no comments from the peanut gallery.” I didn’t want an argument to erupt. I bent over and picked up my shoes, holding them in front of Natalie’s face. “These are Alexander McQueen pumps, Nat. I know you don’t understand now what that means, but you keep your stinky little feet out of my shoes.”
Even with help from the au pair, it took us another twenty minutes to get out of the house and get the kids loaded into the car. We were dropping them off with Grant’s mother in New Jersey on our way to Taylor’s performance in Swan Lake.
I didn’t go inside his mother’s house with them. When she found out we were dating again, she didn’t object, but she hadn’t been happy about it, either. The last time she saw me, I was most likely high. Plus, I was the person who introduced her daughter to heroin and was ultimately responsible for her death. On top of all that, I took advantage of her son’s good heart. I didn’t blame the woman for not being happy about our relationship.
Despite that, and despite my own neurotic self, our relationship had been progressing nicely. I’d spend the night at Grant’s two or three times a week. Grant and his offspring did steal my dog, which I wasn’t too happy about, but it only made sense. Someone was almost always home during the d
ay at his place, and Dusky loved the kids and the kids loved him. He got plenty of walks and was rarely lonely. That also saved me from having to walk him late at night near my place and risk running into you-know-who.
The kids were growing on me. Sometimes they were bratty, and I considered the multiple uses of duct tape, but overall, they were just…kids. They ate, they whined, they played, they farted and they watched television, like every other kid. Natalie got into my shoes, makeup, and hair accessories, and Alex harassed her, but then there were nights when I’d let Natalie paint my nails or I’d do her hair. Sometimes I would sit with Alex and help him with his models while chatting about everything Star Wars. Those were pleasant times, comfortable times. I was glad for them.
After my mini freak out the morning after our first sleepover, Grant and I had cooled off a little bit with our petting and deep kissing. We still kissed, and we still…petted, but for the first two weeks, he always pulled back when it got too heavy. He never asked me about it, and never brought it up in any way, but sometimes I would catch him looking at me as if trying to figure me out.
Things had started to heat up again in our third week together, though. I wanted it to heat up, but I was afraid of having another flashback. I was afraid of being forced into talking about it. I never talked about it, not directly. The only person who even knew of the scattered memories that visited me in the form of dreams was Kyle, and I only told him about it during a moment of weakness.
Although our relationship had been going well, I knew I was holding back. Deep down, I was still bitter. Grant told me to stop thinking and stop analyzing and to follow my heart, and I was honestly trying to do that, but my fear did not just go away. My crazy side didn’t just stop being crazy, and no matter what, I still had a lot of baggage and it wasn’t going to go away. As serious as I was about Grant, I felt as if we were in a temporary situation, and I couldn’t escape that notion. Sooner than later, he’d actually see me, and that would be it. It would be over.
“You ready?” Grant asked, sliding behind the driver’s seat.
“I’m never ready to see my mom,” I answered as we began to back out of his mom’s driveway.
“You’re not going to see your mom. You’re going to see your sister.”
I shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Did you tell them you were bringing a hot date?”
My eyes widened with mock surprise. “I have a hot date?”
“Smartass.”
I smiled a little. “No, I didn’t tell them I was bringing a date. They don’t know much about my life, so I don’t know who they think I gave the second ticket to.”
“You haven’t told them about us?” He glanced away from the road at me.
“I don’t talk to my mom,” I reminded him. “I definitely don’t speak to my stepdad. Taylor and I will sometimes text, but we don’t get very personal.”
“Have you told anyone else? Your cousins?”
I shook my head. I had been very vague with my cousins when they asked about my lunch date with Grant, and I managed to keep them off that topic most of the time. They stopped asking after a while. They probably assumed it was another failure on my part.
“No. If I tell them I’m dating you, they’ll start planning our wedding and naming the babies we’ll never have.”
He laughed, but asked, “So, you’re never going to tell them? I’m starting to feel like you’re ashamed of me.”
“I’ll tell them eventually. Maybe after our beach vacation so I won’t have to listen to their henpecking the whole time.”
He reached for my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Thankfully, he changed the subject.
When we arrived at the theater, I began to feel a little nervous. I hadn’t brought a guy home since I brought Grant home more than fifteen years ago. As much as I disliked being in my mother’s company, there was a secret part of me that wanted her approval. I didn’t think she’d disapprove of Grant, but I couldn’t be sure.
My hand was clammy inside his as we walked into the building. Our seats were fairly close to the stage, so we were able to see my mom and Aaron before they saw us. They spotted us just as we reached their row. My mom’s eyes opened wide with surprise—which surprised me since I never saw any emotion on her face. Then her mouth opened in surprise as well before she managed to fix her face and look a little more like herself—remote and stony.
Both she and Aaron stood to greet us. The men shook hands, but Grant held my mother’s hand and kissed her cheek as if they were old friends.
“Jasmine,” he said. “It is nice to see you. You look beautiful.”
I think my mother actually flushed just before she smiled at him.
“Grant, thank you. I…I’m so surprised to see you. I had no idea that you and Mayson…” She trailed off and looked at me briefly with questions in her eyes. “I didn’t know that you were back from Texas.”
Putting his arm around my waist, as if to leave no question about what I was to him, Grant, my mom, and Aaron chatted for a few minutes. I mostly remained silent, watching the way he easily fell into conversation with the same people I struggled to speak to. After we sat down and the lights went down and the music began, my mom whispered in my ear.
“I am very pleased to see Grant. Surprised, but very pleased.”
Of course she was pleased. She was always pleased to see everyone else but me. For anyone else in the world, my mom managed to have some kind of emotional response besides the blank dead fish stare she had for me. One of the few times she’d given me anything more was at Emmy’s wedding years ago, and I think that was only because she had a few too many glasses of champagne.
Taylor had been perfect as Odette. Despite the lack of relationship we had, I was very proud of her. I tried not to feel cynical when my mother fawned over her afterward, hugging and kissing her and telling her how perfect she was. I thought she was perfect, too, but it was in a different context. When my mom said it, I heard, “You’re so perfect. You’re the daughter I was always meant to have, not Mayson.”
The small well of resentment that I harbored for not just Taylor, but for their whole three-piece family unit as a whole, grew a little deeper.
When Taylor had asked Grant and me to go to dinner with them, I was on the verge of declining, but Grant accepted. I had given him a murderous look when Taylor’s back was turned, but my mom had caught it, of course, and frowned.
Dinner wasn’t too horrible, though, not with Grant there as a buffer, but then my mom invited the kids and us to the monthly dinner—AKA, monthly drug check—at her house. Again, I started to say no, but my boyfriend—who seemed to have had a death wish—accepted that invitation as well.
“We could have discussed it first,” I said when we got back to his place.
“What is there to discuss? It’s your mom. It’s your sister and your stepdad.”
“My mom doesn’t even like me,” I pointed out, pulling off my shoes. “Aaron barely tolerates me, and Taylor…” I couldn’t think of anything bad to say about Taylor, so I just stopped talking.
Grant grabbed Dusky’s leash off the key hook by the door.
“Your mom loves you, and Aaron probably loves you in his own way. Taylor adores you, I can tell.”
“Do you not remember my relationship with my mother thirteen plus years ago?” I stared at him incredulously.
He connected the leash to Dusky’s collar and scratched him behind the ears, but his eyes were on me.
“I do. But, I remember a lot of things you don’t, and my memories are clearer than yours.”
“I don’t think that I’ve forgotten or misinterpreted my mother’s coldness toward me, Grant. I have some memory problems, but I remember that. In a way, I don’t blame her. I was a rotten kid who did rotten things, and I…” I was going to say, “And I killed her husband,” but that wasn’t something I admitted out loud, even if everyone already knew it was true.
“Mayson.” Grant said my name softly. “
I understand where you’re coming from. Do I think that your mom could be a little less rigid? Absolutely, but I am telling you, you don’t remember things as clearly as you think you do.”
He ended the conversation by walking out the door to take Dusky for a walk.
While he was gone, I carried a bottle of wine and two glasses to the nook. I didn’t want to fight with him about it. It was pointless anyway. He didn’t know my mother like I knew her. Maybe he would start to see for himself how it really was. We had a kid-free night, and the last thing I wanted to do was argue about my mom or talk about my mommy issues.
After they came back in, Dusky wandered down the hall, his nails clicking against the floor. His favorite place to sleep was in Natalie’s bed. Grant removed his jacket and tie and came into the nook, holding his hand out to me.
“Come dance with me,” he quietly commanded.
I stared up at him for a few seconds before consenting.
He pulled me into his arms, softly singing “Whip Appeal” by Babyface. He looked down at me cravingly, heat and desire evident in his eyes. I stood on my toes, pulling his face down to mine at the same time, and dragged my tongue along his lower lip. He growled softly before taking my mouth in a fierce, hot kiss.
Grant’s hand smoothed up my bare arm, over my shoulder, down my chest, and stopped on my breast. He continued to kiss me, but his hand was still for several moments, giving me the opportunity to push him away. I didn’t.
His thumb slowly moved over my nipple, making it rise and press against my dress. I moaned when he did it again. I was a little disappointed when his hand moved away, but then I realized he was slowly unzipping my dress. The sound was surprisingly erotic and I kissed him deeper.
I felt the cool air on my back as my dress parted open. He traced lines down my spine and his fingers grazed the beginning contours of my rear before moving back up my spine. He stopped kissing me and took a step back. As his fingers slid under the fabric of my dress, he met my eyes and held my gaze.
The gauzy dress was carefully pulled forward off my shoulders and pulled down until I could slip my arms out. Only seconds later, the dress fell to the floor with a soft, whispery sound, and I was left standing before him in only a black, lacy bra and matching panties.
