Grayson’s preoccupation with the movement, however noble, had created a wedge between them that she could no longer ignore. So, she stood outside the door, waiting for the song to conclude, hoping to avoid the disappointment this tune brought to his eyes. It invigorated him, and when she didn’t return his energy, the rejection cut both ways. The conversation she needed to have would be painful enough.
The mystic chant concluded, with the sound of Michelle’s knuckles drumming against the polished oak providing the only sound. Grayson opened the door in an unexpected burst. Her mouth hung slightly agape in surprise.
“Finally decided to come in,” he stated as he moved to the side, allowing her entry.
She didn’t ask him how he knew. It was not important. She felt his eyes shadowing her movement, drawing her into him as she made her way to the couch. Common scurried from the bedroom, his paws clawing the floor as he ran. Plopping down on the couch, she smiled at him, rubbing the top of his head, scratching behind his ear the way he liked. He licked her fingers in gratitude before taking up residence around the back of her bare ankles.
“Have I become that insufferable, Michelle?” Grayson slowly made his way to the couch, dragging his feet as he went, not hiding how painful each step seemed to be. He walked like a man journeying toward something he was not quite ready to face. “It’s ten in the morning. You’ve been gone for hours. Where have you been? Why did you go without me?”
Grayson was not suggesting that he needed to monitor her comings or goings or suggesting that he should accompany her at all times. He was inquiring about the change in their dynamic, wondering if the distance bothered her, too.
“Nowhere.”
He sat down on the couch but gave her the space he felt she wanted. There was room enough for two people to sit comfortably between them. “What does that mean?”
Michelle swallowed the timidity threatening to silence her. She knew she needed to speak, but she was not disillusioned about what was at stake, either. These past few weeks with Grayson had revealed a side of him that she had honestly grown to love. His patience and attentiveness proved to be a kind of balm for her spirit. He had not made a move of any kind on her, yet the tension was ever present. She knew he wanted her; his eyes couldn’t lie, and she could not deny that she yearned for him as well.
The timing was horrible. She couldn’t be sure of anything, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him, this man who had been nothing but kind to her. He had opened his home and his heart, offering her a safe space to heal. He protected her in a way that no one ever had. That was why this conversation frightened her so. It was why she dreaded what may come about as a result of it.
“Have I done something to lose your trust?” His question was sincere.
“I am not sure where I am, Grayson. I don’t know what . . . this . . . is or what it could it be.”
Tension lines shown across her forehead. His shoulders squared defensively. “I have not pressured you into anything. I mean . . . I care about you. You have become one of my closest friends.”
“Amazing, Grayson, is what you have been. Perfect even.” Michelle’s eyes began to water, and her lips trembled. “Something is happening, and I don’t know that it should.”
Grayson slumped against the couch, inhaling deeply. He ran his hands over his freshly shaved dome, around the left side of his neck over the Himnuta, a word meaning faith in Aramaic, he’d had inked on the eve of his eighteenth birthday.
“I don’t want you to leave, Michelle.”
“I don’t want to leave, either.”
“So why don’t—”
“I think that’s why I should. Maybe I never should have stayed in the first place.”
“It’s too late to second-guess yourself now.”
“Not too late to change my mind.”
“Michelle, you needed someone. I saw that, and I see that. Let me be here.”
“I will. I want you to . . . just not like this.” Michelle broke eye contact with Grayson, too ashamed to admit what she saw to be true. “We are in different places, Grayson.”
“I have to do this work.”
“I know.”
“I cannot believe you’re doubting me after all I have done until this point.”
“I am not doubting you. I just . . . I need more, and it isn’t fair of me to ask that of you. It never was. You were my workout partner at the gym, and now . . .”
“And now we are more than that, Michelle. We are more. You don’t need to go back to him. You and I don’t have to cross any lines that you aren’t comfortable with, but don’t go back there. If you could have seen your face when you came tearing out of that house. Heard the pain in your voice. Your hurt got me out of the car. Don’t go back there.”
Michelle sighed. That day had changed things, pushed their friendship just beyond the boundaries designated for relationships like theirs. That was the first day she knew that this moment would eventually come to pass; that this conversation would be necessary.
“I’ll go to my mother’s. Not to . . . not there.”
“But what about your mother’s fiancé? Are you certain you want to be around that?”
“I have not spoken with her since that day. I could be overreacting. Misread the situation.” Tears lazily fell from her eyes. “I had rushed over there after catching . . .” Michelle couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. “I was emotional.”
“Still, that’s a possibility. Tellin’ me that being here is worse than that?”
“No, Grayson, but—”
“Then stay here. I’ll do whatever. Tell me.”
“Stop, Grayson. I am leaving. Nothing you will say is going to change that.”
Grayson looked dejected. “Fine. I wish you would change your mind.”
Michelle did not respond. She closed her eyes and counted backward from ten, trying to calm her nerves, beckon her tears back from the wells of her eyes.
“I want to—”
She locked into his gaze, deleting the rest of his sentence. It did not need to be said. She knew, as he knew, what was brewing between them. He had saved her, but if any of what they felt was true, she needed to leave, to exit this space and see if it could survive the separation. To see if anything would change in her absence.
“I cannot keep hiding, Grayson. You know that I cannot do that.”
“I don’t want to see you get hurt. I don’t know how to protect you from here.”
“That is not your job, Mr. Hines. I appreciate you, but a month is long enough. I have definitely overstayed my welcome.”
“That is not possible.”
“Besides, reality has caught up with us.”
“I don’t like this, but I respect your decision. I guess I knew this day would come eventually.”
“We both did.” Michelle patted the space next to her.
Grayson slid down the sofa until his thigh brushed hers. Throwing his arm around her shoulders, he drew her into him. Michelle rested her head against his chest, listening to his lungs fill with air, release, and repeat.
“I know you’re confused. I know you loved and had that love stolen from you. That pain is not easy to circumvent. I cannot change any of that. But we have something here, Michelle.”
Michelle didn’t respond. Instead, she sat up, turning slightly to her right to face him. His smoky gray eyes had hypnotic powers even as the light of midday poured in through the skylights above them. She saw in them what she had seen before: the truth. It was the truth of this moment and the past month, and it scared her, overwhelmed her.
“I won’t let you forget. I am not going anywhere.”
Michelle could not force a word out from her lips, trapped in place by the depth of her longing. She could not be this person, could not be the woman who leaves one man for another. She could not be her mother.
Chapter 41
Three hours into the last half of an average work day, Sophie found herself parked in front of M
ichelle’s home, fretting a bit over her decision to try to force a truce of sorts. Her grand knowledge of her daughter reminded her that Michelle was famously stubborn with these types of things. Texas had a better chance of getting snow on Christmas day than she had with coaxing Michelle into doing something she didn’t want to do. Still, she had to try. Failing would confirm her fear: Michelle wanted nothing to do with her. She missed her daughter terribly and hoped that the explanation she had prepared would suffice.
Her bond with Brianna had strengthened significantly after their last visit. and she credited that change to Brianna’s decision not to hide behind pleasantries. Though Michelle had never done that, Sophie felt that to a degree, the same type of frank speak could also help their relationship. So, maybe she was there hoping that this would not be something she could not repair, unlike the other parts of her life, specifically the situation with the deal she longed to close with her husband.
The injunction was a benign tumor, with all the marks of turning into a malignant one. Five p.m. would mark the passing of the forty-eighth hour since her last conversation with Steven. Her numerous calls had gone unanswered, and it did not sit well with her at all. She could only hope that the silence meant that he was working feverishly on getting the injunction thrown out. He was due in court in the early morning hours, and Sophie thought she would have heard from him by now. She was not certain of what to make of his behavior. She promised herself that he would be the last favor she honored. She would have preferred someone more competent, but the situation required that she relax her standards to employ him, a fact she regretted more and more with each passing minute. Neither of them had anticipated all that had unfolded, but still . . . this was his job.
Opening the car door, Sophie pushed her bare feet into the grass and stepped out of the car. Normally she would not travel without shoes, but she felt it was time to try to do things differently. This change was small enough to manage with everything she had going on. The act had actually proven to be quite liberating for her, suggesting that her life fell inside the lines more than she suspected after having run away from her previous life of financial religion and countryside celebrity. Perhaps she had not left so much behind after all.
Michelle’s home was modest by Sophie’s standards, but it still worried her a bit. She knew Michelle was unemployed. Between the car, her old loft, and this new home, she was certain Michelle must have been nearing the end of her graduation gift. She hoped her daughter was being fiscally responsible.
She made her way to the door and rang the bell. The sound of scuffling brought her ear to the door. She heard no arguing, but a lot of bumping around. Sophie pounded the door with her fist and rang the doorbell incessantly. She knew Brianna was not home, and fearing Michelle would ignore her outright, she decided not to announce herself. More racket seeped from within the house.
“Shit. Fuck.”
The tenor belonged to Armand, her son-in law. Sophie scraped her bare feet across the rough fabric of their welcome mat, crashing her fist once more into the door. The door opened abruptly.
“Mich—” Armand started to say but stopped when he saw Sophie standing in front of him.
“Armand? Is everything all right?”
His eyes were bloodshot. His tight curls, usually kept low and tapered, now fell lazily about his head. He wore a pair of basketball shorts, a T-shirt from his high school alma mater, and one lonely sock. From the limited view of the living room behind him, it did not appear to be in much better shape.
“May I come in, please?”
Armand shook his head. “I don’t think now is a good time, Mrs. Lewis.”
Sophie’s face grew warm, briefly visiting her turbulent past with Lewis. She would be damned if her daughter suffered in that way. “I insist,” she stated as she pushed past him and into the living room area.
Several things caught her attention immediately, sounding her internal alarm. The couch was flipped over on its side, the table beside it was in pieces, joining the shattered lamp on the floor. Clothes were strewn about, pictures smashed. Someone had taken a pair of scissors to some of the art pieces from Michelle’s treasured Harlem Renaissance collection. The space was in complete disarray.
Armand stood near the door while Sophie walked about, inspecting the room. She could not hear anything beyond her breathing. Her heart was racing, but she was practiced at hiding her panic.
She calmly addressed Armand. “Where is my daughter?”
Armand shrugged his shoulders but did not answer.
Sophie felt herself losing her patience. Something had happened there, and she did not want to assume that Michelle was involved in any way.
“Where is Michelle, Armand?”
“Anywhere.” Dragging his legs toward the hall, where Sophie stood nearby, he looked like he planned to exit the room. Sophie was not going to allow that.
“Armand, I have only known you this last month or so, but I believe that time is sufficient enough for you to know that I will do anything for my girls. I am going to ask you again. Where is Michelle?”
“Mrs. Lewis, I told you this was not a good time. No disrespect to you or nothing, but I already told you. She could be anywhere.”
“What happened here?”
Armand slouched against the left wall near the hall’s opening, Sophie stood across from him.
“Something is wrong, and you need to tell me what it is.”
“Look, I don’t have to tell you nothin’. You ain’t my momma, Mrs. Lewis. You have two children, and I’m not one of them.”
Armand reeked of alcohol. Sophie’s stomach twisted into knots.
“Is she hurt?”
Armand did not answer. This child was fraying her nerves. Armand had seemed decent enough, but she couldn’t take any chances. She never would have pegged Lewis to use his fists as weapons against her, either.
“I need to know where my daughter is, Armand.”
“I cannot help you. You need to get out.”
Sophie relaxed against the wall. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to push any thoughts of Michelle’s body lying somewhere out of her mind. Surely Armand had not done anything so heinous. Surely not. They were in love. He was the hero in their family, one of the main reasons they were all alive to tell their stories.
“I cannot do that. Not until I know where Michelle is.”
“This is my house, Mrs. Lewis.”
“This is my daughter’s house, and I am not leaving until I see her standing in it.”
“Well, good luck with that.”
Sophie slammed into his face before she processed her next thought. She found her hands wrapped around his throat. She was not a strong woman, but he did not resist. Sophie did not notice at first; her rage consumed her. All she could think about was Michelle and what he may have done to her. She aimed to squeeze the truth out of him like toothpaste from a tube. Then she noticed his eyes, the puffiness underneath them. She looked down, noticing his hands dangling by his sides in submission.
“Just do it,” he pleaded.
Sophie, confused by his behavior, loosened her grip but did not release him. Something terrible must have happened to break him like this. He was not the same young man who had pulled into her driveway after rescuing Brianna. This man had no fight in him.
“Please,” he begged again, “just do it.”
Sophie removed her hands, watching his body slide down to the floor. Armand sat with his long legs open, his head bent between them. She could not explain it, but something told her that he needed to be handled with delicate hands. He was fragile. If she went in too hard, he’d break, and she’d never get the answers she sought. She sat down across from him.
“Armand, I apologize. I should not have touched you.”
“I deserve it. I deserve all of this. I failed.”
Sophie continued to study him, counting the tears as they fell from his eyes. “No, you didn’t. My fear drove me to that, and—�
��
“I failed her.” Armand’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “I broke her.”
Sophie tried to remain calm. “What do you mean, Armand?”
He never looked up at Sophie. His voice traveled through the curls that hung blocking his face from view. “It’s so fucked up. I just . . . I loved her. I didn’t mean to . . . I didn’t mean it.”
Sophie’s body started trembling uncontrollably as her mind inserted Michelle into every scene in every episode of SVU she had ever seen. “What did you do, Armand?”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I swear.” Armand was unraveling—if he ever really had it together.
This visit had revealed a different side of him, introduced her into a part of Michelle’s life that she hated to admit was new to her. That was her fault. She had lied to protect herself, though she reasoned at the time it was for Michelle. Now, trying to unpack whatever horror her daughter may have suffered through another person was humbling. She had to admit that it had been about her. Not telling Michelle about Brianna had more to do with her inability to speak about her shame, to address the guilt she lived with, than anything else.
Armand was a reflection of her. She understood his pain, the remorse she saw in his eyes, heard in his tone. She looked out into the living room, searching for something to indicate that Michelle could have been hurt there. She was looking for evidence of a struggle between two people but found nothing. There was no blood anywhere, no scratches on Armand. If there were a scuffle between them, Armand might have been on the losing end of it. She still needed him to say it, though. The words needed to leave his lips before she could leave this house.
“I don’t know what you did, but you’re not beyond redemption. None of us ever are. It isn’t too late to make this right, Armand. Tell me where she is.”
Armand sniffled. “I can’t. I can’t tell you that.”
Virtuous Deception 2 Page 26
