Keeping You (Destined Love #3)

3. Hannah

CHAPTER 3

Hannah

W hat the hell is happening with my life? Am I stuck in some kind of nightmare? I have to be.

Over the last few days, I had to travel to a work conference with a man I can’t stand and I woke up married to him, and now I’m in his car as he takes me to his place to talk about our marriage. If you had told me a week ago this is where I’d be, I’d have laughed right in your face.

Why did he even show up at the airport? I said Liv was coming to get me, which was a lie, but I didn’t want to bother my friends. I’m perfectly capable of getting myself home from the airport. I’ve been taking care of myself for years. That kind of happens when your parents start to not care or are just too busy. I don’t need help now.

I watch the city pass by as Grayson takes us to his place. I have no idea where he lives. I assume it’s somewhat close to the hospital, but that’s all. People bustle down the streets, enjoying the warm May sun. After the cold winter we just had and the reprieve from the usual rain we get, everyone’s enjoying the change in weather. Grayson pulls up to a large building and turns into the parking garage. I open my door and hop out. Grayson meets me at the front of the car with my bag.

“You can leave that in the car. I don’t need it.”

“I’m just going to bring it up,” he says.

I want to get upstairs and get this conversation over with so that I can pretend all of this never actually happened. I follow him into the elevator and watch as the numbers count up. It feels like forever before the number finally lands on thirty. The elevator doors open, and Grayson gestures for me to leave first. I step out and wait for him to lead the way to his apartment.

I watch the muscles of his arm move as he twists the key in the lock. I shake my head.

What the hell is wrong with me? I cannot be noticing things like this. I’m here to discuss getting an annulment, and then I’m leaving and avoiding him as much as I can.

I follow him, taking my shoes off at the front door. His apartment is surprisingly clean. Shoes are lined up neatly by the front door. His kitchen is to the left, and his counters are clear and there are no dishes sitting in the sink. There’s a small table on the other side of his kitchen island set for four. His living room screams bachelor pad. A large, black sectional couch sits facing a large TV mounted on the wall that looks like it’s connected to two or three different gaming consoles.

I slowly pad my way over to his couch, sitting on the edge of the seat as he watches me. The silence is killing me. It was like this in the car, too. I don’t particularly have anything to say other than I want an annulment, but I’ve got to break this silence.

I clear my throat and say, “You said you wanted to talk.”

He takes a seat next to me, resting his arms on his thighs as he taps his fingertips together. His gaze is focused on his fingers, watching them tap. I start bouncing my leg; the silence is getting to me.

“I want to make this work,” he finally says.

I open my mouth and then close it. That was the last thing in the world I thought he’d say. How does he expect us to make this work? He enjoys being able to sleep with anything that walks, and he’s hurt me before. He showed me two years ago that being with him wouldn’t work. The last thing I want is to be married to him. I’m not sure why he thinks things have magically changed and we can make a go of it.

“This can’t work,” I say.

He stares at me, his eyes brushing over every inch of me. My skin prickles as he takes his time. He seems deep in thought as he watches me. I move to stand, but his arm shoots out as he grabs my wrist and I wait. His touch and the feeling of his gaze pull me back to when it was good. When I wanted his eyes on me and to feel his skin against mine. I shake my head, reminding myself not to dwell on those feelings.

“Ninety days,” he rushes out. “Give me ninety days to prove we can make this work.” His voice is confident yet pleading.

I stare into his eyes, trying to decipher why. “Grayson, ninety days isn’t going to change anything. You’re drawing out the inevitable. Let’s just get the paperwork drawn up and signed. Let’s get it annulled.”

He opens and closes his mouth, and I stare into his eyes. They’re a deep blue like the Pacific Ocean. I remember sitting across from him in a restaurant two years ago and getting lost in them. The memory has the hurt that came after bubbling back to the surface. Going from a feeling of hope to betrayal was hard. I withdraw my wrist from his grasp and clasp my hands in my lap.

“Ninety days, and if I haven’t convinced you this can work, I’ll sign the papers uncontested. I’ll end it just like you want. But if we’re going to do this, I want to do it right. I want you to move in. We go on dates. No avoiding me. We both put the effort in.”

“What about my apartment?” I ask. “I’m still renting my place.”

He looks at me, hope in his eyes. “I’m not asking to give it up or to help me pay the rent here. I’m just asking that you move in and give this a real shot.”

If he were to fight the annulment, it could drag on for months, but uncontested, this would quickly be in the rearview mirror, and I could get on with my life. I remember how nasty my parents’ divorce was. It took them years to actually get divorced and be done with one another. They haven’t been in the same room since. I don’t want that for myself. I’ve seen the persistent side of Grayson before, and even if he didn’t drag it out to hurt me, he’d do it to get his way. The plus is Grayson and I don’t have kids who could get caught in the middle, but fighting this out in court for years is far from what I want.

What’s ninety days?

It’s the summer.

I can put up with living in Grayson’s nice apartment for the summer. It’s not far from work or Liv’s. And who knows, maybe if I give him enough reasons, he’ll call it quits early.

I nod. “Fine. Ninety days and then you sign the papers.”

Something in his eyes changes. It’s almost as though he’s hurt by my words. I shake my head and push those thoughts aside.

“I was going to make some food before I left for the airport. Are you hungry? I can make us something quickly.”

Right then, my stomach decides to grumble.

He smiles softly. “That sounds like a yes.”

His demeanour is throwing me off. Where is the guy who’s always acted like he’s the cream of the freaking crop? My stomach grumbles again, and I remember how long it’s been since I’ve eaten real food.

“That’d be great. Thank you.”

He nods as he pushes up from the couch and moves into the kitchen. The open space allows me to watch him as he grabs ingredients from the fridge. I make my way over to his entertainment centre and pick up a picture of what looks like his parents. They’re both smiling, his dad’s wrapped around his mom from behind as they beam at the camera.

“That’s my parents the day I graduated from medical school. They’re celebrating their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary this summer. They were high school sweethearts.”

Looking over my shoulder, I take in his smile as he talks about his parents. I wonder what it must be like to grow up with parents who love each other as much as his obviously do. I place the picture back down and move on to the other pictures. I’m surprised he has so many. There’s one of his hockey team after they won the championship a few years ago, one of all the guys at Josh and Olivia’s wedding in October, one of him and his dad, and a few others scattered about.

“Lunch is ready,” Grayson says as he carries two plates over to the table.

I join him and see he’s made chicken breasts with rice and a salad. Slipping into the seat beside his, I say, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he says as he digs in.

We eat in silence. Sitting here with Grayson is awkward. Every other encounter we’ve had in the last two years has been around other people who could act as buffers. I slowly pick at my food. When he finishes, he leans back in his chair, hands clasped and resting over his stomach as he watches me. He’s not looking at the food, but at my face, like he’s trying to figure out how to approach me.

“Do you have a shift tonight?” he finally asks.

I shake my head. “No, I work night shift tomorrow.”

He nods. “I have plans tomorrow night, but I’ll be home to have dinner with you before you leave.”

His game. With his friends. FUCK! I haven’t had time to process everything yet, let alone time to tell my friends, Oh hey, by the way, you know that work trip I went on? Yeah, well, I kinda came home married to the man I can’t stand. Because that will go over so well.

“About that…” I take a deep breath and roll my shoulders back. “I’d like for you to not say anything about us being married. I want to tell the girls beforehand.”

He nods and leans forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “Okay, but know I’m not keeping this a secret for ninety days. I’ll give you some time to tell your friends, but I’m not treating this or you like a dirty secret, because you’re not one.”

The conviction behind his words has me wanting to melt, but I know I can’t. I have to stay strong. I can’t let myself get fooled by pretty words again. Especially not from Grayson.

“Okay.”

Nodding, he reaches for my plate. “You finished?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He grabs our plates and heads to the kitchen sink, rinsing them before putting them in the dishwasher. Drying his hands, he looks back at me.

“I’m beat after my shift. I need a shower and a nap. I’m not sure if you’re tired or not. If you want, you can put whatever you want on out here or there are some game consoles. Remotes should be on the coffee table.”

“I’m good.”

I watch as he moves down the hall into what I assume is his bedroom. I settle back onto the couch, grabbing a blanket that’s lying over the back and my Kindle from my purse. I need the escapism of a good book. Settling in, I allow myself to get sucked into the story.

I’m woken up by the smell of pizza. Stretching, I open my eyes and take in my surroundings and it all hits again.

Grayson. Ninety days.

I sit up and see him standing in the doorway, grabbing a pizza box from the delivery guy. He thanks him and turns back to me. He grins.

“Hungry, sleepyhead?”

God, that pizza smells good. My mouth is watering already.

He chuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He grabs a couple of plates and napkins and then joins me on the couch. He hands me the remote to find something to watch, and I open Netflix. We agree on Brooklyn Nine-Nine, and settle in with the pizza. We both laugh at the jokes, and I relax more as the episodes roll into one another. I feel myself crashing again despite the nap I took.

At the end of the episode, Grayson nudges my leg. “Take the bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”

I raise a brow.

“Hannah, go, take it.”

“I’m not sleeping in some bed that’s seen God knows how many women, Grayson. I’ll go home.”

His face turns from playful to serious as he looks at me. “First, you’re too tired to be going home right now, and you agreed to move in, so you’re not leaving. And second, no one but me has slept in that bed. So please, take it. You’ve already napped on the couch.”

Why is he bombarding me with so much to process all at once? A yawn tears through me, and I know I don’t have the energy to fight him on this. I get up and grab my bag, rolling it into his room. A large king bed sits in the centre of the room with a navy-blue comforter spread over it. The right nightstand is riddled with little things. His charger, a tissue box, a notepad and pen, a water bottle, and a pair of glasses.

I didn’t know he needed glasses.

I move into the washroom and quickly wash my face and brush my teeth before changing into my pyjamas. I’m glad I packed some for the work trip, because I usually don’t wear any. I prefer to sleep in the nude, or if I do wear something, it’s definitely sexier than the shorts and tank I packed.

Slipping under the blanket on the left side, I relish in the soft feel of the sheets against my skin. I don’t think I’ve slept on something so soft. I’ll need to ask Grayson for the brand so I can buy myself some. I stare up at the ceiling, trying to process everything. I can’t wrap my head around Grayson’s behaviour. He’s always been so laid back and go with the flow, but today, he’s been rigid. Firm in his decisions. Since the hotel, he’s said two very clear nice things about me.

Hannah, you never look like shit. You look beautiful.

I’m not treating this or you like a dirty secret, because you’re not one.

I fall asleep with his words bouncing around in my mind.