“Advise me, André. She doesn’t want to press charges, but I want to maim that son of a bitch.”
André gave a noisy sigh, jangling his well-muscled limbs as though shaking off a net of frustration. “Fine. Fine. Let me talk to her. I have some ideas, but she needs to sign off on them.”
“Good,” Gray said, nodding. “She’ll be here any minute.”
André shook his head. “I swear, I knew you were hard-headed, but this girl’s turned you into a horse’s ass,” he muttered.
Gray could only grin. “Watch out. It could happen to you one day.”
Rolling his eyes, Dré guffawed. “While I’ll concede that if it could happen to you, then no man is safe, but this job is first. And no woman wants to be second.”
His words gave Gray a check. A few weeks ago, the only thing that had mattered to him was writing. He’d been terrified of a life that didn’t include his work. And he still carried that terror, but he carried now, too, the mysterious assurance that if he lost writing but had Meredith, life would still be good.
But he didn’t want to think about life without Meredith.
As though his thoughts summoned her, the front door opened, and she called softly down the hall. “Gray? I’m back.”
Gray got to his feet and shot his friend a glare. “Be nice to her,” he whispered. “Or that shiny head of yours is going through the window.”
Dré, stood, hitched his shoulders, and ran a palm over his clean-shaved head. “My head’s not shiny. That’s my glow.”
Gray’s old friend followed him into the kitchen, and both men stopped at the sight of her.
“Meredith. Your lip,” Gray said, unfreezing and crossing to her. “It looks worse. What happened?”
Meredith raised a hand to her mouth and blushed. “Oh, I covered it with make-up this morning.” She ran a finger over the now purplish mark, looking horrified. “It must have worn off. I’ll be right back.”
She started for the bathroom when André stopped her. “Hold on a minute,” he said, stepping forward and extending his hand. “I’m Dré Washington, Gray’s attorney.”
Gray watched him shake Meredith’s hand, but his friend never took his eyes off the mark on her face.
“Hi, nice to meet you,” she said, squirming just a little under his scrutiny.
“Don’t cover that up. We need to take pictures.”
“Oh,” she covered her mouth again, and her eyes went to Gray’s. “Where’s Oscar?”
“Mom took him to Girard Park. They’ll be back soon. I hope that’s okay.”
She gave a weak smile and nodded. “And are you feeling alright?”
Gray wanted to take her in his arms and reassure her. “I’m fine.”
When she looked back at André, Gray read the hesitation and shame in her eyes.
“Why do we need to take pictures?”
Gray searched his friend’s face, but he could find no hint of suspicion or doubt, only determination. “Because somebody hurt you, and we need to make sure he doesn’t do it again — to you or anyone else.”
Meredith shook her head. “I don’t want to cause any trouble. I hate him for what he did to me, but he’s still Oscar’s father,” she said. “I don’t want to be the one to send him to jail.”
Dré shook his head. “We don’t have to send him to jail. We just need to send a message.”
She searched his eyes for a moment, and when Gray stepped beside her and took her hand, she squeezed back.
“Okay, what can we do?”
IN THE END, Meredith wound up filling out a police report for assault and battery and filing a restraining order. And the whole time, André treated her as if she were made of glass, speaking softly, smiling easily, and calling on a buddy from the LPPD.
The officer came to the house to take a statement and document Meredith’s injuries. The whole process took a couple of hours, but they managed to time the officer’s visit around Oscar’s nap, so the child had absolutely no idea of the crime his father committed. And since Meredith had not accused Jamie of sexual assault — of which he was absolutely guilty and should be known for it for the rest of his life, as far as Gray was concerned — she did not have to worry about Oscar having to claim a father who was a registered sex offender.
By the time Dré left, Meredith wore a smile, and she laughed at the jabs he and Gray traded back and forth. Oscar sat in her lap, laughing when she laughed, even though he couldn’t have understood any of their inside jokes, and his giggles made them all hysterical.
Gray walked his friend out to his car and shook his hand. “Thanks, man. I owe you big.”
Dré grinned at him. “If you don’t make me admit I was wrong, we’ll call it even,” he said shrugging. “Meredith’s quality. I shoulda known, even with a cracked head, you wouldn’t pick anything less.”
“I’m glad you see that.”
Dré’s grin faded, and he watched Gray for a long moment. “So, the surgery’s in, what, a week and a half?”
Gray nodded. “Monday after next.”
“How long will you be in the hospital?” Dré asked, frowning.
He rolled his eyes. “Assuming everything goes well—”
“And that’s the only way it’s gonna go,” Dré insisted.
Gray snickered. “Exactly… Then it’ll be two to five days, depending on how the therapists think I’m doing.”
“What do you mean?”
He gave a disgusted sigh. “I mean, I have to be able to walk and safely climb stairs, and that’s what the physical therapists are for,” he said, grimacing. “And I have to be able to take a shit and a shower by myself, and that’s what the occupational therapists are for.”
Dré’s eyes bugged. “You might forget how to take a shit by yourself?”
“Sounds awesome, right?” Sarcasm was the only way to talk about something so humiliating it scared the fuck out of him.
Dré reached for him and gripped his shoulders. “Man, you know I love you,” he said, completely straight-faced before his eyes glinted. “But I am never wiping your ass.”
Gray pulled the punch he’d landed in Dré’s gut as the two of them laughed. “Get the fuck out of here,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”
Dré nodded and walked to the driver’s side door of his Laguna Blue Stingray convertible. “I’m counting on it.”
Gray couldn’t help himself. “And if I don’t…” He chuckled. “…I want you to scatter my ashes on that car so I can ride in style beside you for the rest of your life.”
“Fuck you, man,” Dré said, losing it, his teeth flashing as he laughed. The vette’s engine came alive with a purr, and Dré was gone with a wave.
Gray went back into the house, still smiling, and joined Meredith and Oscar on the floor of the living room.
“What’s so funny?”
Gray shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”
Meredith was even less of a fan of gallows humor than Dré. She gave him a disapproving look, but she still smiled. “I like your friend. Y’all are funny together.”
“Yeah.” Gray nodded. “He’s great.”
Now that Dré had met Meredith and knew what she meant to him, Gray felt even more at ease. If anything happened to him, his will would take care of her, but André would also look out for her.
All he had left to do was finish polishing the book and spend as much time as he could with the woman who’d claimed his heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THE TEST ON chapters one through six in Atlas of Anatomy had totally shredded her. For Meredith, the week had been the most physically and emotionally exhausting since she’d given birth to Oscar.
Gray’s surgery was in a week and a half, and his editor had just sent back his manuscript with the first round of edits. The plan was for Gray and Meredith to go through the book, accept or reject all of the suggestions made during copy editing, and return it with any additional changes by Saturday night.
As long as
he felt well.
When he felt good, the hours burned up like sparklers. And when he was in pain, fear threatened to suffocate her. Meredith worried he wouldn’t make it to the surgery as much as she worried he wouldn’t make it through the surgery.
So when she pulled into Gray’s driveway after school and killed the engine, she didn’t move. Instead, she rested her head on the steering wheel and closed her eyes. Oscar was inside with Gray and his mother, and Meredith hoped he was still napping. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks for Dahlia Blakewood. The woman had moved her things back to the Hilton Garden Inn so that Meredith and Oscar could have the spare room and Gray wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch, but she’d come back that morning. Dahlia said she wanted to look after Oscar, and Meredith had no doubt that Gray’s mother adored her little boy, but she also knew — and was grateful — that Gray would never be alone. That someone was always there in case he took a grave turn. And it saved her from having to find childcare for Oscar just now.
As she expected, Leona had lost her mind Thursday night when the police arrived at the McCormicks’ to arrest Jamie. When Meredith’s phone had started ringing, Gray had insisted she let the call go to voicemail, and he’d screened it himself. Watching his face as he listened to the message was enough to let her know the woman on the other end was rabid at best. Gray had simply texted André, and the attorney reached out to Leona and Big Jim, informing them that he was representing Meredith, and if they wanted a relationship with Oscar, harassing her was not an option. The relief at hearing that Leona had, to quote André, “changed her tune faster than T-Pain,” allowed Meredith to relax enough to study Thursday night, but she still hadn’t slept much. Oscar was starting to ask questions about Jamie and his grandparents, and Meredith didn’t yet have any answers.
So, with her head on the steering wheel and her eyes closed, Meredith drank in the blessed silence of her car. February’s chill seeped in around her, but she could barely feel it. She just needed a moment…
The car door was open, and Gray crouched beside her. “Meredith, honey, are you okay?”
She peeled her forehead off the Nissan emblem and squinted at him.
“Oh, sweetness.” He gave a startled laugh before reaching for her brow and running his thumb over her skin. She touched her forehead and felt the bumpy lettering stamped onto her face.
“Oh my God…”
“You’ve been out here for twenty minutes,” Gray said. “At first, I thought you were on the phone.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, coming to and realizing she’d wasted precious time. “I just…”
“Let’s get you inside.” His hand curled around her upper arm, and he guided her out of the car. Then he reached in and grabbed her book bag and purse before slinging them over his shoulder.
“I know we need to get started on the manuscript,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I’ll just make a pot of coffee.”
“You will not,” Gray said, shutting her car door before wrapping his arm around her. He steered them toward the house.
“Yeah, I should. We need to get to work,” she argued, looking up at him as they walked the long drive.
Gray shook his head. “You need the day off.”
Meredith frowned. “What? We don’t have time for that.”
“I don’t care. You’re shot. You haven’t had a break in days, and while you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, you look terrible,” he said, glancing down at her with a sympathetic smile. “And those letters from your steering wheel don’t help.”
She scrubbed her forehead again. “I just drifted off. I’m okay now.”
His brows drew up as he eyed her. “My love, you fell asleep in your car.”
At the word love, Meredith’s breath hitched.
He wasn’t finished. “Thank goodness you weren’t driving it.”
It took her a moment to pick up on what he was saying. “I-I wouldn’t have fallen asleep while driving. I chose to rest my head when I stopped.”
He blinked at her, and she could see he fought his smile. “And who would do that?”
Gray opened the front door and ushered her inside. “You need to start parking in the garage,” he muttered absently as they walked into the kitchen. Oscar and Dahlia sat at the island with a box of crayons spilled out across the granite. Oscar looked up at Meredith.
“Mama, what on you head?”
Dahlia’s eyes followed Oscar’s, and Meredith saw her bite her lip with a look of concern.
“It’s nothing, Oscar. It’ll go away in a minute.” She rubbed harder on the spot until her skin burned and then bent down to kiss her son on the cheek.
“I’m going to draw you a bath,” Gray said, stepping away from her.
A bath?
Meredith hadn’t taken an actual bath in ages. Not since Oscar was a colicky infant, and they’d soak in the warm water together until one or both of them stopped crying. The thought of sinking into a hot bath made her bones turn to mush.
But a bath would take too long.
“Gray, there’s no time.”
He turned back to face her. “Well, I’m making time.” He walked back and took her by the hand before pulling her toward his room.
“I can’t stop, Gray,” she said, shaking her head. Meredith felt like if she lost momentum now, she’d never be able to muster the strength to pick up where they left off later.
He led them into his room and closed the door behind her. “You have to stop.” He walked her to the armchair in the corner, and she sat. “Don’t move, and for once, just don’t argue.”
For once, Meredith felt like she didn’t have the strength to argue. She stared at the ceiling, feeling as though it would crash on top of her any minute. She heard Gray turn on the taps in the bathroom, and she shut her eyes.
A moment later, she opened them to find him kneeling at her feet. “You always put everyone else ahead of yourself,” he said, reaching for the buttons of her coat. “Let me put you first.”
Her coat opened under his fingers, and he pulled it off her shoulders. Then he stood and took both her hands in his, bringing her easily to her feet.
“I’m afraid I don’t have bubble bath or anything like that,” he said softly.
The thought of him owning bubble bath made the beginnings of a smile curl on her lips. When he led her into his bathroom, she didn’t resist. She was done resisting. He motioned for her to sit on the edge of the tub, and she did so without a word.
He stepped over to the sink and came back with her hairclip in hand. “Don’t girls make a bun when they take a bath?”
Meredith nodded, and he nodded back.
“Turn around,” he said, making a twirling motion with his finger.
Meredith turned, and she felt him gather her hair at the base of her neck, smoothing and twisting it until he folded the snug knot up along the back of her head and secured it with her clip.
He knelt again and tugged off her left ankle boot before removing her right. Then Gray put his hands on his knees and looked up at her. “As much as I’d like to undress you and put you in that tub myself, I’m going to step out.” His voice was a rough whisper that made her insides quiver. “Mom’s going to take Oscar to Toys“R”Us if it’s okay with you.”
Her smile grew. “He’d like that.”
Gray smiled back. “So would she. I’ll go move his car seat into the Acura,” he said, standing. But then he turned back to the sink, picked up the small matchbook on the counter, and lit the tri-wicked candle Meredith was sure had never been used. He looked back at her. “Do me a favor and close the shower curtain when you get in so I can come back and talk to you in a little while.”
The prospect of such a conversation, Meredith naked and soaking in a hot bath, and Gray on the other side of a curtain, set her heart pounding hard in her chest.
“Okay.”
Before he stepped out, he bent down, shut off the water, and kissed her briefly — and innocently — on the t
op of her head. He turned and flipped the light switch, cloaking the bathroom in shadow and candlelight, the effect so calming, Meredith felt her body relax as if her muscles were already immersed in warm water. And then he was gone.
Meredith took her time undressing, listening to the sounds in the house and hearing Oscar’s excited voice as Dahlia told him about their outing. She stepped into the tub and moaned as she sank into the hot water, so deep it nearly reached her breasts.
Bending her knees and letting herself slide down until only her head and neck remained above the surface, Meredith gave a great sigh.
A bath. So simple. How did Gray know what she needed before she knew herself? In the hot water, her tensions and even her fears seemed to slip away. In the flickering light of the candle, nothing overwhelming loomed over her. She’d bathe, she’d dress, and she’d feel restored enough to help Gray with his manuscript. An hour’s delay would mean next to nothing if it gave her back as much strength as she could already feel returning to her.
She heard the kitchen door shut, and the house fell silent. On the edge of the tub, Gray had left a folded washcloth and a fresh bar of soap. She took the cloth, drenched and soaped it, and rubbed it over her face. She could feel that the lettering from her ill-timed nap had faded, and as she ran the washcloth down past her chin, she tested the tenderness of her lip. The swelling was completely gone, and only a pale bruise remained. This was likely because Gray had made her hold an ice pack against it in alternating intervals the night before.
He took such good care of her.
From the moment they’d met — even before she’d laid eyes on him — he’d treated her with care and kindness. But this was so much more than care and kindness.
“My love.”
His words came back to her with a quickening of her heart. She splashed water over her face and let herself soak.
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