Nothing But This

by Anders, Natasha

  He reached out tentatively and caught one of her curls between his thumb and index finger, desperately needing the contact.

  “I know you didn’t believe me last night, Olivia. And I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t believe me if I were you . . . but I do love you. I have for much longer than I realized. I thought you should know that.”

  She stared at him mutely, her arms seeming to tighten fractionally around Clara’s small body. He grabbed the opportunity to lean in and kiss her gently.

  “Good night. I’ll send you a text to let you know what time we’ll leave for the airport.”

  He didn’t wait for her to reply but left before he could do something embarrassing, like begging her to let him stay.

  He loves me. There was no misunderstanding his meaning this time. He had looked straight into her eyes and told her that he loved her.

  The words reverberated through her mind as she settled Clara down for the evening, while she packed their bags and set her house to rights.

  He loved her.

  All her life she had longed to hear those words from Greyson Chapman. For so long she had created girlish fantasies around his romantic declaration of love. Reality had been much less florid and far from perfect.

  Reality had been a stark collection of words said in a tortured tone of voice, with desperation shining in his eyes.

  And yet those unembellished words rang with truth because they were so typically Greyson.

  For the man who rarely smiled, barely laughed, and liked to keep his emotions under lock and key, those few words had been the equivalent of a chivalric knight writing a sonnet to his ladylove.

  And Libby now had to decide if that was enough to revive a relationship she had nearly given up for dead.

  Greyson barely slept, dreading the thought of driving the two people he loved the most in the world to the airport in the morning. After a restless night he got up just before dawn to take a long shower. And he sent Olivia a curt text afterward, telling her to be ready for pickup in an hour.

  He wandered aimlessly around the flat for a while before trying to calm down with a coloring project. When that didn’t work, he got up to pace again. Finally, after half an hour, he strode to the door. He was just about to open it when the sound of Tina’s voice calling his name startled him into yanking the front door nearly off its hinges.

  He stopped abruptly, stunned to find his brother cozied up next to Tina on the porch swing. They both looked ridiculously contented, and Greyson was immediately happy for them.

  “Yeah?”

  “So I’m in love with your brother,” Tina said with a huge smile. “And he’s in love with me. We’re together. We’ll probably get married someday. Harris wants the world to know; I thought we’d start with you.”

  “That’s truly fantastic,” he said, genuinely delighted for them. “And if I may say so, about damned time. Be happy.”

  “Yeah,” Harris said. He kissed Tina’s neck, and she sighed softly. “I think we will be.”

  “Right. I think . . . I’ll head out for a drive,” Greyson said, not wanting to ruin the moment for them by stating that he was taking Olivia to the airport. They deserved to have their happiness remain bright and untarnished for as long as possible. They didn’t seem to hear him, and feeling like an awkward third wheel, he hurriedly left the porch. Leaving them to their privacy.

  He couldn’t help but be a little envious of their happiness. Things were just beginning for them, but it felt like everything was ending for him and Olivia, and his gut twisted at the thought.

  He was unutterably drained, like a drowning man who had been desperately fighting to keep his head above water only to have a giant wave sweep in and pull him under. It felt like all his efforts had been futile and everything from the instant Olivia had so joyously told him she was pregnant had been leading to this moment of ineffable loss.

  She was uncommonly quiet when he picked them up. And the drive to the airport wasn’t much better. Neither of them could find much to say.

  “Harris is back,” he remembered, halfway through the thirty-minute drive to Plettenberg Bay Airport.

  “Oh?” she asked, and he nodded, grateful to have something to talk about.

  “It looks like they’ve reconciled.”

  “That’s wonderful,” she said, her voice brimming with sincerity. “I’m so happy for them.”

  Greyson nodded again, not sure what else to add to the conversation, and they both petered off into silence once more.

  “You should leave your key with me,” he suddenly said, his voice overly loud.

  “Why?” she asked curiously.

  “So that we can finish the renovations on your house while you’re gone.” And it would help keep him sane and remind him that she would return. She had to. She had a life here.

  She dug around in her purse and produced the key, dropping it in the coin tray on the dashboard. No argument. At least they had made progress on that front.

  They reached the airport much too soon for his liking. The chopper had been fueled and was ready and waiting. It had been reserved for some other purpose, but Greyson had pulled rank. Something he would never have done if it were for anyone other than Olivia and Clara.

  “Well . . . thank you for bringing us,” Olivia said with a strained smile at the security checkpoint, and Greyson nodded, finding himself quite unable to speak. He was holding Clara, and he gathered her close, hugging her small sturdy body probably a little too tightly and for a little too long. He breathed in her powdery, clean baby smell, memorizing the warmth and softness of her. Clara squirmed and made a protesting sound, and he forced himself to loosen his grip and hand her over to her mother.

  He kissed the top of the baby’s head and directed his blurry gaze to Olivia.

  “Greyson,” she said, her voice so quiet it was barely audible above the noise of the airport. “We’ll be back soon. I promise.”

  He nodded, his jaw taut. He couldn’t speak. If he tried to talk, he was quite sure he’d break down and bawl like a baby. His whole world was walking away from him. For the second time. And he wasn’t sure he could stand it.

  She turned to leave, but he couldn’t let her go—not like this—and caught her hand in his, halting her movement. She turned back to face him, and he palmed the side of her face before he dropped a hard, desperate kiss on her beautiful, lush mouth. It was over in seconds, and he pressed his forehead to hers.

  “I love you, Olivia.”

  Her hand lifted to where his was still cupped over her cheek, and she gave his fingers a soft squeeze. Acknowledging his words with a small smile.

  “Goodbye, Greyson.”

  She left him standing there with his shattered heart at his feet, helpless to do anything but watch as she walked away from him.

  “Hey, I have someone here who wants to say hello to you,” Olivia said in deliberately jovial tones, and Greyson grinned at her words. She had been FaceTiming at the same time every evening so that he could speak with Clara, who always reacted with excitement at the sight of him.

  “Hello, Clara,” he greeted her, inserting the genuine excitement he always felt at the sight of them into his voice. “It’s Daddy.”

  Her head turned at the sound, and her face lit up when she saw him on Olivia’s laptop screen. Her plump, grasping fingers reached for the screen as they always did, and Olivia grabbed them before they could do any harm.

  “I know, baby,” Greyson said. “Daddy wants to give you a hug too. You and Mummy.”

  Olivia didn’t react to the latter; she had made it clear that these calls were mostly for Clara’s sake. They spoke primarily about the baby, although Greyson would often update her as to how her house was coming along. He had replaced the air con and the carpet in the living room. And he had transformed the tiny second bedroom into a nursery for Clara. It was much smaller in size than the one she had set up in the penthouse during her pregnancy, but he had duplicated the colors and motifs as best he could.r />
  It was a labor of love. Something to make up for, even if it was in only the tiniest of ways, his lack of presence during her pregnancy. He hadn’t told her about the nursery—he wanted it to be a surprise—but he had worked his ass off to get it nearly done in the few days she had been gone so far.

  Clara quickly realized that he wasn’t really there, as she always did. And she lost interest in the laptop after a couple of minutes, grasping for other things on the table.

  “How is everybody?” Greyson ventured, despite the fact that he’d been shot down when asking similar questions in the past.

  “Fine. Happy to be spending time with Clara. I went to your parents’ today . . .” She shook her head; the gesture held a measure of disbelief. “They’re so different around her. They practically fought over who would get to hold her.”

  Greyson chuckled. “They sent me pictures. Told me you were going to the aquarium with them tomorrow?”

  She shuddered. “The aquarium on a Saturday—can you imagine the crowds?” she asked with a wince.

  “Quite frankly, I can’t imagine my mother making her way through those crowds. I’m surprised they didn’t suggest taking you out on the yacht or something less . . . ordinary.”

  “Less common, you mean,” she corrected him, and he laughed. “They suggested their country club, and I told them Clara would probably be bored. Then they did suggest the yacht, and I told them I wasn’t sure how Clara would react to the unfamiliar sensation of being on water. Your father is the one who proposed the aquarium, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead after the glare your mother gave him.”

  “He probably paid for it afterward,” Greyson said with a chuckle, and she grinned.

  “Probably.”

  They lapsed into a strange, awkward silence.

  “Well, I’ve got to—”

  “We’re fixing the roof tomorrow,” he interrupted her abruptly in an attempt to keep her on the line longer.

  “That’s fantastic. How did you manage to get the roofers to commit to a Saturday?”

  “It’s been tough getting anyone out here; every professional in the area has been booked solid for months since the end of winter.”

  He knew it was a nonanswer, and he hoped she wouldn’t pick up on that. Because he didn’t want to tell her that he and the guys—he took a moment to appreciate the fact that he had guys now—were planning to do it themselves. Spencer had some construction experience, Brand was handy with a hammer, and Harris, who had moved to Riversend and was looking to buy or build a house with Tina, was happy to lend a hand. A few of the bigger teen boys from the youth-outreach program had offered to help out as well. As had some of his football teammates.

  “Okay. Well, thanks for arranging that. I should get Clara changed and ready for bed. Good night.”

  “Good night, Olivia.”

  She didn’t disconnect the call and appeared to be waiting for something. He smiled and leaned toward the camera before ending the call as he always did: “I love you.”

  The feed ended abruptly after that, and his smile widened. It felt like progress.

  “When are you going home?” her mother’s quiet voice asked from behind Libby, and she turned away from her computer to stare at the woman. She was in the kitchen, and usually her parents gave her privacy during these calls, but her mother—who had an empty glass clutched in her hand—must have walked in at the tail end of that conversation.

  “I’m not sure. Do you want us to leave?”

  “Don’t be silly; you know we love having you here. But I’m not sure why you’re here.”

  “Can’t a daughter visit her parents?”

  Her mother smiled and took Clara from her before sitting down across from Libby and pinning her with that all-seeing mum stare of hers.

  “Anytime. Only this doesn’t feel like you’re visiting. It feels like you’re hiding. I know you and Greyson have had problems. Of course I know that. We all do. When you first married him, I wasn’t too sure it would work out. But you’ve always had a soft spot for him and then a crush on him, and when you returned from London a married woman, you were mad about him. I don’t know what he did to break your heart, Libby . . . and I could kill that boy for the pain he put you through. For abandoning his responsibilities for so long. But I’ve overheard bits and pieces of these calls every night, and that man loves his daughter, and—while I never saw it before, it’s clear as day now—he loves you.”

  “I’m not sure that his love is enough to save our marriage, Mum,” Libby confessed in a hushed voice. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. He hurt me terribly, and I suppose I don’t know if I trust him not to do it again. He broke that trust once, and he’s been trying so hard to make up for it. But I feel like it will always be there, looming between us. And I have to decide if I’m able—willing—to set it aside and allow myself to be vulnerable with him again.”

  Her mother placed her hand palm up on the table, and Libby took it, appreciating the older woman’s love and support.

  “Did he cheat on you?” her mother asked, and Libby’s eyes widened in horror at the question.

  “No.” The word came out more forcefully than she had intended, but the thought of Greyson cheating was almost ridiculous, and she leaped to his defense without thinking. Once she realized what she had done, she felt an immediate surge of resentment that he hadn’t done the same for her.

  Why couldn’t he have had the same faith in her? That felt like the worst betrayal, and that was the demon she found herself battling with.

  “He didn’t cheat, but he accused me of cheating. He thought Clara was someone else’s. He thought Harris and I . . .” She shook her head. Still mortified at the thought.

  “You and Harris have always been close,” her mother said thoughtfully, and Libby was a little outraged that the woman hadn’t immediately jumped to her defense. “Sometimes to the exclusion of everyone else. Even Tina.”

  “That’s no excuse,” Libby said, the outrage dissolving. It always came back to this.

  “Greyson should have trusted you; he should have trusted his brother. You were always so warm and approachable and loving. It was hard for me to imagine you with someone like Greyson. Hard for all of us, I think. Even for Greyson. You seemed so much more compatible with Harris, while Greyson was always such a closed-off, distant boy. I remember when you were children, you and Harris would come tumbling into the kitchen and try to charm me out of biscuits or treats. Harris would say ridiculously flattering things; you would smile and plead and flutter those eyelashes at me. While Greyson would stand in the doorway and watch. He never begged or charmed. But he wanted to. I could tell it in the way he would lean in through that door, the way his eyes would follow my hands as I gave you the treats.

  “He wasn’t cold; he was . . . I don’t know . . . the only word I can think of is distant. Or reserved. Always was and probably always will be. When he wanted something, he asked for it, no frills, no fuss, and sometimes it would sound like a demand. It can be off putting, but it’s the only way he knows how to be. What Greyson did was awful, and I’m very angry with him for hurting you and not taking care of you the way he should have. And I can’t tell you what to do or how to feel. I just know that I never thought I’d see the day that our cold and controlled Greyson Chapman would spend time making funny animal noises to a baby and telling a woman he loves her.”

  Libby groaned and buried her face in her arms on the table. What was she doing here? She wasn’t sure she was achieving anything except confusing herself even further.

  The aquarium was a complete nightmare. So many people jostling to see the exhibits, crying babies, squealing toddlers, stampeding children. The Chapmans spent the morning looking both horrified and terrified, and it would have been comical if Libby hadn’t felt the same way.

  Clara seemed to love it, though. The noise fascinated her, the gorgeous exhibits held her attention for long moments . . . but thankfully she started to flag after just
an hour, and Libby eagerly suggested they leave when Clara started fussing.

  Her in-laws jumped at the opportunity to escape, and they were on their way to a restaurant when Libby’s phone rang. It was Tina.

  “Hey, Tina, how’re you doing?” she greeted her friend warmly. Tina had been on cloud nine since announcing her engagement to Harris on Tuesday. And every time they spoke, Libby could hear the lightness in the woman’s voice. Harris was the same, and Libby was extremely happy for them.

  “Libby.” There was no lightness in Tina’s voice this time, and Libby sat upright, alarmed by the urgency in her friend’s voice.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The guys were fixing the roof, and . . . I don’t know what happened, but Greyson fell. They rushed him to the hospital. I’m on my way there now. Harris called me; he said he’s been trying to reach you.”

  “What do you mean, he fell?” Libby asked, feeling hysteria rising in her voice. “Fell from where?”

  “The roof, Libby.”

  Libby swayed as dizziness overtook her. “That idiot. That stupid, stupid man! Why was he on the roof?”

  “They were fixing it. There were a few of them. He couldn’t get the roofers out until next month, and he wanted the house to be in perfect condition when you returned. He’s been working so hard on it.” Libby could hear the swell of emotion in Tina’s voice; the other woman sounded like she was on the verge of tears. Libby couldn’t react with anything other than shock, anger, and panic.

  “How is he?” she asked, her voice sounding faint even to her own ears.

  “I’m not sure. Harris said he took quite a tumble. He sounded concerned, but I think he was trying to hide it from me.”

  “Oh God.” Libby took a huge gulp of breath, her dizziness increasing. She was aware of her in-laws staring at her in concern. They were in a huge luxury SUV with their new driver at the wheel. “Oh my God. I’ll be there soon. I have to make arrangements.”