Rm W/a Vu (51 page)

Sighing, I lace my fingers through his. “Goodnight,” I reply softly.

I feel his lips curl up into a smile against my skin. “Let’s get some sleep.”

And, with that, I snuggle back into his embrace, close my eyes, and we fall asleep.

Everything is in order for our dinner party with Gemma and her fiancé. Greyston and I had spent the day cleaning the cabin while our roast cooked in the oven. By three in the afternoon, the smell that fills the air makes my stomach growl and my mouth water.

Because we’ll be packing up and heading home the next day, we also worked to pack up most of the Christmas decorations so the caretaker wouldn’t have to. I’m just reaching up to pull the mistletoe from the hook above the fireplace mantle when a pair of strong hand grabs me around the waist and spins me. I melt into Greyston with a moan of approval, letting his warm lips mold to mine.

I whimper when he pulls away, opening my eyes when the backs of his fingers stroke my cheek. “Leave it up,” he suggests with a smirk.

Arching a brow, I stare up at him. “Because you need an excuse to kiss me?”

He ponders my teasing for a moment. “Well, no, but surprising you like that garnered me a very positive reaction from you.”

I’m just about to respond when there’s a knock on the door. I pull free from Greyston’s arms and cross the room, pulling the door open to find Gemma, hair perfectly straight and pulled over her right shoulder, and a man almost a foot taller than her. He’s built like Toby, thick and muscular. It’s obvious he works out—maybe even a little too much.

“Hi,” I greet with a smile, holding my hand out toward him. “I’m Juliette. Greyston’s girlfriend.”

Dom returns my smile and takes my outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” He looks past me to Greyston and shakes his hand next. “Gem’s told me so much about you.”

A cold breeze slips past us, making me shiver. “Please, come in,” I tell them, ushering them inside. “Let me take your jackets. Greyston, why don’t you offer our guests some wine?”

While I hang the thick winter jackets in the main closet, Greyston shows them to the living room before he heads to the kitchen and pours the wine. I join him, helping him carry the glasses to our guests, and we sit on the loveseat across from them and engage in conversation while our dinner finishes up.

“So, Gem tells me this is your first time in the mountains?” Dom asks me.

I sip my wine and nod. “It is. It’s pretty amazing, too. Cold, sure, but a truly wonderful experience.” I look at Greyston as he settles his hand on my knee. “Unforgettable, really.”

Greyston leans over and presses his lips to mine. When I glance back at our guests, I notice Gemma has looked away and is taking a large pull from her glass.

The timer on the oven goes off, so Greyston and I excuse ourselves to make the final preparations on dinner. While he carves the roast, I butter and season the vegetables and mash the potatoes. I make a quick gravy, and Greyston sets the table before calling Dom and Gemma to join us.

As we sit around the table, Dom talks about his job as a personal trainer. Turns out, he and Gemma met at the gym; he was her trainer during her off-season. They’d been seeing each other for just over a year when he proposed, and they tell us that the rest is history.

After dinner, Greyston offers up a chocolate cream pie and coffee with Bailey’s for dessert, and we head back to the living room to enjoy it. About halfway through our dessert, Dom’s cell phone rings, and he excuses himself to take the call, grabbing his jacket and stepping out onto the front porch for some privacy. The three of us carry on our conversation, Greyston telling Gemma how this might be his last time staying in the cabin because his parents are planning to sell. She seems sad to hear this, but is quick to offer up alternative solutions for him to keep vacationing out here.

Even with the fire roaring, I notice Gemma shiver when she sets her plate on the coffee table. “Cold?” I ask, confused, because I’m quite warm, and no one else has complained. Though, her shirt is a little on the lighter side while I’m wearing a sweater, so that could have something to do with it.

“Freezing.”

Feeling generous, I set my coffee down and stand up. “I’ll go grab you a sweater,” I offer.

“Oh, Juliette, that’s not necces—“

“Nonsense. I’ll be right back.”

As I ascend the stairs, I hear Gemma exclaim, “Oh my God! I remember this!”

Greyston’s voice is barely audible, but I catch a few words and deduce they must be looking at one of the photos on the mantle. A flare of jealousy fills my belly again. I don’t like that they have a history, regardless of how much he reassures me that it was just that: history.

Laughing at myself, I shake off the feeling, because Greyston isn’t Ben. He’d never do anything to intentionally hurt me, and I know it’s just my past insecurities that are making me question everything.

I grab a sweater from my suitcase and head back downstairs to rejoin the dinner party, but as I hit the bottom stair, I stop dead in my tracks and watch Gemma press her lips to Greyston’s. I’m about to make my presence known when Greyston pushes Gemma away from him, eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed, and chest heaving.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demands.

It takes me a moment to fully realize what I just walked in on, and it isn’t until Greyston asks her what the hell she thinks she’s doing that I fully comprehend.

Every fear I felt before came rushing back, slamming into me like a tidal wave and pulling me under. I struggled against the riptide of emotions, trying to see through it all clearly in order to act rationally.

“Juliette,” Greyston says, his eyes wide with panic when he sees me standing there. I only glance at him for a second before I hone my icy glare on Gemma as she turns to face me.

“Oh, hey,” she says innocently, as though she wasn’t just making a move on
my
boyfriend while her fiancé is outside. She approaches me, eyes darting around nervously as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “Great sweater. I bet that blue looks killer on you and brings out your eyes.” She reaches for it, but I yank it from her reach just as the front door opens.

“You need to leave,” I tell her through gritted teeth. “Now.”

“Gem?” Dom says from the doorway.

I ignore him as he enters the house after his phone call, instead holding Gemma’s gaze and refusing to back down. Eventually, she laughs lightly, trying to brush off what I walked in on as nothing. “Juliette,” she says in a light and airy voice. “We were just joking around. There was mistletoe…”

Greyston moves around her and stands next to me. “Baby, let me explain.”

I close my eyes and shake my head in response to him, then look at Gemma again. “I told you to get out. If you don’t leave on your own, I have no problem removing you by whatever force necessary.”

“What the hell happened in here?” Dom asks, finally making me aware of his presence.

“Maybe you should ask your fiancée,” I tell him, crossing my arms.

He must not need an explanation, because the way he groans tells me he’s figured it out on his own. “Jesus, Gem.
Again?
I can’t keep doing this with you. I’m done.”

This seems to sober Gemma, and she whips her face toward Dom before running to him. “Dom, babe. It’s not what you think. I’ve had too much to drink.” He shakes his head and opens the front door while she yanks on her jacket and boots and chases him into the cold, leaving Greyston and I alone.

Silence fills the room, the tension so thick not even a knife could cut through it. Greyston reaches for me, his fingers brushing my jawline as he tries to coax my eyes to his. There’s so much going through my head right now, and I’m not even sure where to begin or how to process everything. Greyston looks at me, his eyes trying to gauge my reaction to everything. His eyebrows furrow in frustration before he opens his mouth to speak.

But I turn tail and head back upstairs, needing a moment to myself.

Greyston refuses to let this happen, and he runs up the stairs after me, following me into the bedroom. “Juliette, please. Let me explain.”

I sigh heavily, shoving the sweater back in my suitcase, and I force a smile to my face. “There’s nothing to explain, Greyston.”

His fingers wrap around my upper arm, and he turns me to face him. “We need to talk about this.”

Anger I didn’t even know I was holding back surges forward, burning through my veins like lava.

The truth is, I’m hurt. In addition to being hurt, I’m also a little…confused. Oh, and pissed off. Let’s not forget that one. I’m not necessarily pissed off at Greyston, because he did push her away from him. Have I not had to deal with enough in the last couple months? I mean, really. First, all that shit with Ben, and now this? What next?

Wait…scratch that. I don’t think that tempting fate by asking that question is a good idea right now; I’ll deal with one life problem at a time, thank you very much.

I hate her. No, really; I fucking
hate
Gemma.

I’m not a person who generally doles out a lot of hate because it just wastes too much energy, and, honestly, life is just too damn short for it. Sure, I dislike people—Ben and Delilah, for example—but I don’t see the point in hating anyone. Or, I didn’t until I saw Gemma make a move on Greyston.

I thought how I felt when I first learned of their tryst was the most jealous I would ever feel, but when I watched Gemma kiss my boyfriend…well, let’s just say that was the twist that would keep the wound open for a while longer.

“What do you want me to say, Greyston? I told you so? I knew she was trouble from the minute I saw her with her arms around you?” I laugh, but it’s dry and without humor. “I let it go because you told me it was all history.”

“It is,” he assures me, and I believe him—I do.

“Not for her.”

“But it is for me, and that’s all that should matter.” He pushes his fingers roughly through his cropped hair. “She kissed me. I pushed her away the second her lips touched mine.”

Bile and alcohol roll in my stomach from imagining Gemma with her lips on Greyston’s. I close my eyes and count to ten.

“What are you thinking about?” Greyston asks, his voice nervous and unsteady.

I open my eyes to find him leaning against the dresser, eyes on me, brows pulled up and in. I can see how sorry he is, but my anger refuses to be appeased by that.

“I hate that I dismissed my gut feelings about her. But I told myself it was just my experience with Ben and Delilah that made me anxious about her hanging around so much.”

Greyston sighs. “I know.” He drops his gaze to his feet. “And you were right to not trust her. I should’ve seen it.”

“Yes,” I tell him harshly. “You should have. So why didn’t you?”

I’ve barely finished asking my question before he reacts, his eyes blazing. “Because I’m so fucking in love with you, other women don’t even register on my radar!” he shouts, startling me a little…until I fully register what he’s told me.

Chapter 33

“
W
h-what?”

Greyston swallows thickly, pushing off the dresser and standing inches away from me. He’s looking down at me, his eyes confirming what he just said. “I’ve known it for a while, but after everything you’ve been through, I didn’t want to pressure you to have to say it back…unless you wanted to.” Another pause. He rubs the back of his neck. “When we entered this relationship, you were a completely different person—nervous, and a little bit of a flight risk.” I laugh, knowing he’s absolutely right. “But in such a short amount of time, you’ve become this incredibly strong and confident woman, and watching this transformation made me fall hard and fast.”

“You…love me?”

Greyston smiles, the corners of his eyes creasing. “I do. I love you more than I ever thought  possible in such a short amount of time.”

Everything that happened with Gemma instantly moves to the back burner; it’s not gone, but it’s no longer that important. Yes, we still need to talk about it, but first I need to acknowledge Greyston’s confession with one of my own.