Forever With You: A Contemporary Romance (You and Me Series Book 4)

by Tia Lewis

  Alana swatted at my shoulder lightly. “Shut it. Do you want to hear about your boyfriend or not?”

  My face burned. I felt light headed suddenly. All the blood from my body seemed to be in my face. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  Madeline grinned, her mouth open wide. It must’ve hurt; it was such a big grin. “That’s not what he said.”

  The blood rushed from my face, as quickly as it had come, momentarily deafening me. All I could hear was the whooshing of my blood and the hammering of my heart. “What?”

  The girls broke, giggling themselves into a heap, arms thrown around each other. I barely contained the growl that they were taking so long to tell me the story. “Guys!”

  “Sorry!” Alana gasped, wiping away tears that had formed from her laughter. “Sorry, it’s just—your face.”

  “Aww,” Madeline teased. “Our little Jade likes him.”

  “Shut up,” I replied automatically, my mind still whirling. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” Alana said innocently. I glared at her, and she relented easily, holding her hands up. “Okay, okay. We-ell, if you must know, Madeline and I were at Fitzgerald’s for a drink—”

  “Or two.” Madeline held up two fingers.

  Alana nodded. “Or two. Or three or four or five.” She started to giggle again but composed herself when I groaned. “And we saw little Grayson all by himself! He had on that stupid hat and sunglasses, inside, as if that would help him not be recognized.”

  “And then!” Madeline interjected. “We went and sat by him, and we all got a few drinks. It was good, Fitzgerald’s has really stepped up its game.”

  “Madeline,” I almost smacked myself in the forehead. They were too drunk to be telling any story.

  “Sorry. Anyway, so we sat by him, and man was he drinking!”

  “So we asked him—”

  “We asked him why he was drinking—”

  “And it was because of you!”

  They both beamed at me. I blinked back.

  “Sorry, what? What about me?”

  “You! Apparently, his manager Craig—”

  “Chris,” I corrected.

  Alana nodded emphatically. “Yeah, Chris. That’s what I said. Apparently, his manager Chris forbade him from seeing you or something and Grayson threatened to fire him because, and I quote—”

  Madeline joined in, both of them lowering their voices. “Fuck him to tell me who can be my girlfriend.”

  My mouth fell open, my jaw dropping. The girls exchanged a look.

  “That’s you!” Madeline explained, smiling. “You’re the girlfriend!”

  “He—Chris forbade him from seeing me?” I couldn’t believe it. That guy was an asshole.

  “And Grayson refused!” The girls were positively gleeful about Grayson’s supposed refusal.

  His manager thought I was so bad for him that he tried to forbid him from even seeing me. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath or swallow around the lump in my throat. I frowned, dropping my head to look at the carpet after seeing the girls’ faces fall. What could Chris even know about me that was bad enough to warrant such a response? It couldn’t have even been a suggestion if Grayson felt the need to threaten his job to get him to lay off. That had to be—I didn’t even know what that had to be or mean. Just that it wasn’t good.

  No wonder he called him an asshole. No wonder Grayson hadn’t called me earlier today.

  Maybe it was for the best, though. I didn’t want to be the reason that he was fighting with his manager. Grayson hadn’t said much about the guy, not really, but I knew enough about the industry to know that managers were important and that Chris had been with Grayson since he started, basically. Their careers had grown together, and I had always thought that Grayson seemed to like the guy, if not respect the hell out of him.

  What reason could Chris have to think I was so bad for his client? His friend?

  I swallowed thickly, laying down on the carpet. It was thin and old. We’d never replaced it. It was dirty and old, like most of the things in my life. Maybe that alone was the reason. Grayson was in a completely different league than me. Maybe Chris saw that while Grayson still didn’t.

  “Hey,” Madeline said, drawing my attention back toward my friends. She was pouting, and Alana wore an identical expression. “This is good news.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, it’s great.”

  “No, seriously,” Alana argued. “He likes you, Jade. Really likes you. Fuck his manager or whatever. This is a good thing.”

  I didn’t want to argue with them. I knew what they were saying and where they were coming from. Alana and Madeline, at their core, always had good intentions. I didn’t want them to feel bad for not realizing sooner how wrong they were this time.

  Clearing my throat, I tried to ignore the clawing dread in my stomach. I wasn’t good enough. Grayson was going to see that soon. My eyes burned.

  “I know,” I lied, trying to smile. It came short of genuine, but the girls brightened a bit at my display. “I think I’m just tired. I’m going to hit the hay.”

  Madeline nodded and Alana, in a rare display of affection, threw her arms around my neck, hugging me. “I like him. He’s good for you,” she whispered. “Let him be.”

  I wrapped my arms around her, squeezing tightly once. Then I dropped my arms and stood, nodding. “Night, girls.”

  “Night.”

  I took a shower and changed into sweatpants and an old t-shirt, plugging in my phone and setting the alarms, running over the schedule for the upcoming weekend before climbing under the covers; my thoughts looped over and over again the entire time with one horrible thought.

  I wasn’t enough. And Grayson was going to figure that out soon.

  Grayson

  Who the fuck did Chris think he was? He may be my best friend and my manager, but he couldn’t tell me I couldn’t be with Jade. There was something different about her, and I wasn’t going to let her go. She was going to be mine—I’d make sure of it.

  Jade

  When Grayson called the following day, I couldn’t answer.

  I had excused myself to the supply room, staring as his name lit up the screen. It buzzed in my hand, screaming at me to answer. I watched it go to voicemail and the call end.

  I couldn’t answer it. I blamed it on the lunch rush, justifying that I was too busy to take a personal call. But I wasn’t a great liar, even when it was just to myself. When it rang a second time, I groaned aloud and sat on the floor, throwing my head into my hands.

  I waited until the buzzing stopped and then laid back, my head on the cool ground. If I just laid on the floor indefinitely, I thought my problems would probably go away.

  I heard the bell ring and the loud voices that accompanied a sports team bustling into the diner. Oh well, I thought, nice try. I stood, popping my back and groaning. I shoved the phone into my back pocket and left the back room to help Alana with the new onslaught of customers.

  She winced behind the counter, holding her head. I coughed, trying to disguise the chuckle forming. She caught it anyway and glared at me. “You’re a jerk,” she muttered.

  I let the laugh out. I patted her on the head briefly before darting out of the way of her smacks, grabbing an order pad and going over to the teenagers. I took their orders quickly while Alana grabbed their drinks.

  I offered her a small smile before going into the back to make the food; I nodded back at her. I decided that once the rush died down a little, I’d make my famous hangover tacos and send her home early.

  After all, her hangover was partially my fault. She’d drank partially to get information about Grayson for me. It wasn’t her fault that it was bad news; she didn’t even really realize it was bad news.

  I grilled a half dozen patties, whipping up some onion rings and French fries while they cooked. The food was plated before long, and I helped Alana deliver it, nodding at the coach when he shot us a grateful look.

  With no new customers to
serve, I cleaned the grill and threw in a load of dishes, scrubbing at the bottom of the sink while Alana manned the register.

  It was a good day for working. I liked having my mind occupied, and it kept my thoughts from drifting to Grayson.

  Alana nearly hugged me when I let her go home early, her eyes welling with tears as I handed her the to-go bag with tacos. I tried very hard not to laugh in her face.

  The dinner rush would be interesting to handle on my own, but I had done it before and wasn’t too worried. My regulars would understand, and the new customers wouldn’t know the place well enough to recognize if I was moving slowly. I knew I was fast enough to deal with it.

  Plus, then I’d be too busy to think.

  The lull between lunch and dinner hit hard, leaving the diner completely empty. I cleaned and prepped and did some invoicing, but eventually, there was nothing left to do but wait. Fixing myself a sandwich and a cup of coffee, I sat in the corner booth with the chipped top to eat.

  I ran the pad of my finger down the jagged edge. What would Uncle Kyle think, if he was here to see how I was running the place? Would he hate that I was so short-staffed? Kyle had always gone out of his way to fill the place with local high school kids and family, making sure he was doing his part in the community. Kyle was a big community guy.

  I’d never get the diner to run as smoothly, never figure out how to make the pancakes just right, never find someone to love me the way my aunt loved my uncle.

  I didn’t know her, not really. But Kyle spoke about his wife so often, so tenderly, that Alana and I both knew growing up that true love existed, if only for the two of them.

  Alana once confessed she loved Todd like that. I didn’t see it, couldn’t see it at the time. I’d never considered the fact that it was genuine, what my cousin was saying. Nothing could match Kyle’s love for his wife, his adoration for his daughter, his dedication to the diner. Nothing could match Kyle’s emotions and—well, anything. Nothing could match Kyle.

  I took a sip of my coffee. It was lukewarm now, but I swallowed it and took another. Anything to smooth the lump building in my throat down.

  It was a stupid thought, a fleeting one that I’d only had once. But I was in The Bookies with Grayson, and we were reading each other bits of adventure novels. Grayson’s voice had caressed a sentence so nicely, and I couldn’t help but think that Kyle would have liked Grayson.

  I was different now. But could being different really matter when I had twenty-three years under my belt of not being different?

  I couldn’t tear my eyes from the rip in the table. I should have apologized for that. Did it even matter that Kyle probably knew I had done it if he didn’t know that I was sorry?

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I ripped it out.

  Grayson’s name mocked me as it filled the screen. I moaned in frustration as I answered the call.

  “Grayson.” Anger spilled from the name, burning my tongue and lips. I heard Grayson take a stuttering breath as he paused.

  “Jade.” My own name was said carefully, calculating. I imagined the little crease between Grayson’s eyebrows deepening, and it hurt. I didn’t want to be thrown away. I didn’t want to be told that I wasn’t enough—would never be.

  “What do you want?” And, God, but that was harsh. I couldn’t stop myself. My thoughts were poison, and they flew out of my mouth.

  Grayson sucked in a breath in surprise, the phone dragging against fabric again as he readjusted. I blinked harshly at the stinging in my eyes. “Just to see how you’re doing. Bad, I’m guessing.”

  I scoffed. I didn’t know how to reply to that.

  “Jesus, okay.” I heard Grayson getting a little angry now. Good. I was ready for this to end. I couldn’t drag it on any longer, couldn’t let my stupid thoughts and pulse betray me, set me up for the biggest fall. “You’re in a mood.”

  I ground my teeth. “You called me, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Grayson snapped. “I just—” he took in a deep breath. I waited, and then I counted. When I got to fifteen, Grayson sighed again. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

  I wanted to throw my phone through the window. My grip tightened around it instead. “Oh.”

  “I—can I come by?”

  I stiffened. “I don’t know. Can you?”

  Grayson paused. “I suppose I deserve that,” he muttered, before raising his voice a little. “I don’t give a shit what Chris says. I’m coming by.”

  He hung up the phone call, and I sighed, dropping my phone on the table. I lowered my head into my hands, rubbing at my temples. What was wrong with me? He hadn’t done anything wrong. He had defended me, for God’s sake. He just—

  I could hurt him. I could ruin him. And I couldn’t shake the feeling of inevitability tightening around my wrists and throat like chains, ready to drag me down at the blink of an eye.

  I knew what I should do. Clean break, as early as possible; work hard, be nicer, be better.

  I put the closed sign on the door and turned off the front lights instead.

  I threw away my mostly untouched lunch, washing the plate and mug quickly. Then I went to the supply closet and laid down.

  There was probably something to say about my incessant need to lay on the ground when I was overwhelmed. I didn’t bother thinking about it, though.

  The minutes passed slowly, as all minutes had the last few weeks. Maybe this was part of the reason things were so much now. I could feel every second as it ticked by, was awake and present for all the days in my weeks. So much happened, so many things tugged at me. I couldn’t decide if I preferred it to the sleepy existence I had before Grayson barged into my life with his laughter and cinnamon kisses.

  My body shook a bit when I heard the bell announce Grayson’s arrival, his tentative steps followed by a quiet, “Jade?”

  I closed my eyes. “Back here.”

  The steps faltered before resuming in a more determined path. I could practically hear his serious expression and annoyance through his steps.

  I sighed, sitting up. It wouldn’t do to be sprawled across the floor when he came in. No need to make myself look more pathetic than I actually was.

  I spread my legs out in front of me, stretching a bit. Grayson came in, glancing around before he lowered his gaze and found me. His face softened immediately and fluidly he dropped to the floor across from me. He sat cross-legged, his knees hitting the bottom of my shoes. He put his hand on my calf, rubbing lightly and looking at me with a gentle expression.

  I couldn’t read the lines on his face. He seemed as hesitant as I felt.

  His eyes were grayer today than usual, a gunmetal color that looked oddly ethereal against his smooth skin and thick lashes. I held my breath as I waited for him to speak.

  Luckily, it didn’t take very long. He swallowed, and I tracked the movement down his throat, eyes flickering back to his after the motion stilled. He spoke so quickly that the words seemed to tumble after one another desperately. “I’m really sorry, Jade. I didn’t realize it would upset you so much and if I had known, of course, I never would have said anything. I just—I know you have every right to be furious with me, but I do hope you believe how genuinely sorry I am. You—I hope that you believe me.” He shook his head, staring down at his hands.

  I sucked in a breath, the sound harsh in the room. My head swam.

  “You’re sorry?” I repeated, frowning. His head snapped up, his face imploring. He nodded.

  “So, so very sorry.” He bit his bottom lip.

  My fingers ached with a phantom desire to pull his lip free. “For what?”

  My heart hammered in my chest. What was he apologizing for? Had he taken Chris’s advice? Was the need to get ahold of me today worse than I had feared? The dread that had been threatening to consume me all day waved over me anew, a thick blanket over my bones and muscles.

  He tilted his head, and I braced myself for the blow. “For the phone call,” he elaborated. “For cal
ling you drunk.”

  I opened my eyes. I hadn’t even realized I’d clenched them shut. “What?”

  Grayson barreled forward, continuing. “I was such an ass. It was so improper. I was just—I had spent the day with Chris having the most infuriating argument, and I missed you. But to not call you at all after our wonderful date, even if it was so short, and then to call you like that—it’s inexcusable.”

  I blinked. Tilted my head. Frowned.

  He was apologizing about calling me drunk? He had been calling me all day because he was sorry, not that he wanted to break up with me, but because he thought it was improper to call me—whatever—when he was drunk?

  I crossed my legs, scooting a little closer to him. Grayson closed the distance quickly, sitting on the back of his thighs while waiting for me to reply. He clearly struggled not to keep talking, his hand twitching on his thighs as he sunk his teeth into his lip again.

  This time, with an ounce of bravery I wasn’t sure really belonged to me, I used my thumb to gently free the lip. He let out a shuddering breath.

  “I wasn’t upset that you called me drunk,” I murmured. My pulse was so loud. I wished he could just hear me, could just know what I was trying to say without saying anything. But his frown deepened, and I had to elaborate. “I—I liked it. I, well. I thought you were cute.”

  Grayson shook his head again. “But—you were so angry.”

  I winced. “Yeah,” I didn’t see the point in arguing. I really had been. “But it wasn’t at you. I mean, at least, not directly.”

  His hand reached for mine, and I complied quickly, lacing our fingers together. Both of us relaxed a little at the motion.

  “I know that Chris wants us to,” I stopped short, hesitating around the words. After a moment, I decided on, “stop seeing each other.”

  He recoiled a bit, frowning. I shrugged. I didn’t feel bad about gaining the knowledge. It felt important. “Madeline and Alana told me.”

  Realization dawned on his face. “Oh, my God,” he laughed. “I completely forgot I even saw them.”