Keeping You (Destined Love #3)

12. Grayson

CHAPTER 12

Grayson

H annah’s yes has me feeling both excited to be able to spend an entire week with her out of the city with no worries about work or anything else and anxious about the phone call I know I’m going to have to make tomorrow. My mom is going to be crushed when I tell her I got married and she wasn’t invited to the wedding and hasn’t met my wife. She would have wanted to dote on my fiancée and make sure she got everything she wanted when it came to the wedding.

I know when her and Hannah meet, they’ll get along better than pigs in shit, as my dad would say. I can’t wait for them to meet. Hannah missed out on that loving mother figure I was so fortunate to grow up with. Chloe always wanted a sister, so she’ll be excited to have another woman at family dinners to help her gang up on me. I’m not sure how Dad will take the news. I never thought I’d be in a position like this, worried about what they’re going to say to me eloping with a woman they’ve never met. I go to sleep knowing I’m going to need to face the music in the morning.

In the morning, I make myself some coffee and settle back on the couch, staring at my mom’s contact pulled up on my phone. Her contact picture is of the two of us at my med school graduation. She couldn’t stop crying and smiling. She was so happy that I had accomplished what I set out to do.

I chug my coffee, set the cup on the coffee table, and press the call button. I listen to it ring. As usual, Mom picks up in three rings.

“Hi, Honey. How are you?” Mom’s singsong soft voice carries through the phone.

“Um, I’m good, Mom. How are you?” My voice comes out scratchy, and I know she noticed.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I sigh. “But, Mom, I’ve got to tell you and Dad something.”

“Randy,” Mom yells, and I pull the phone away from my face. I can hear the worry in her voice.

“Mom, everything’s fine. Please don’t worry.”

“Honey, when you sound like this, it’s something big. I’m your mother. I’m going to worry.”

The shuffling of a chair comes through, and then Mom says, “Okay, your father’s here. What’s up?”

“I’m married.” I pause, letting my words soak in for a second before I say, “I’m bringing her with me when I come for the Canada Day celebration.”

My phone begins to ring with a FaceTime call from Mom. I quickly put in headphones and answer.

“You got married?” Hurt is written all over Mom’s face while Dad is assessing me.

“Yeah, it happened when I was in Vegas for that convention for work.”

“That was three weeks ago,” Mom says, the hurt now filling her voice.

Shame washes over me as I grip the back of my neck. “Yeah, I didn’t say anything because it’s complicated, and the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint you.”

“Do you love her?” Mom asks.

“Yeah.” I nod.

My parents nod back.

“And she loves you?” Mom asks.

I open and close my mouth before I slump further into the couch and say, “No.”

“How did you end up married?”

“Drinking in Vegas.”

My parents exchange looks, and the pit in the bottom of my stomach only gets bigger.

“Okay, well, at least tell us about her,” Dad says.

I sit up, because telling them about Hannah is something easy. “She’s gorgeous and smart. She works as a nurse in the ER, she’s great with her patients. She’s sassy and fiery, but also fiercely loyal. She’ll do anything to help out someone in need. She’s much softer than she lets everyone think. She loves to run and read romance books. She enjoys camping”—my throat is so constricted I can barely get the next words out—“she’s good with kids.”

Mom’s eyes are glassy, and a small smile pulls at her lips. “What are you going to do?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, Mom.”

Hannah walks out of the bedroom and heads into the kitchen. She puts things into the blender while I change the conversation with my parents to our visit.

When the blender turns on, Mom’s brows furrow and she asks, “What’s that noise?”

“The blender. Hannah’s making a smoothie.”

“She’s there?” I can feel my mother’s excitement through the phone.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, let me meet my daughter-in-law.”

I move into the kitchen and lean against the counter beside Hannah, and when she turns the blender off, I say, “My mom would like to talk to you.”

Her eyes widen, and it looks like she’s afraid.

I mute my end of the call and place a hand on Hannah’s arm and squeeze. “There’s nothing to worry about, Spitfire. She’s going to love you. She wants to meet her daughter-in-law.”

She swallows and then nods, and I take my headphones out, leaving them on the counter before unmuting the call.

I hold up the phone and watch as, piece by piece, Hannah’s facade goes up. By the time the phone is in front of us, her perfect smile is up. But I see it for what it is. An act.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell,” she says.

“Hannah, dear, we’re family, please call me Melanie, and this is Randy. We’re both so pleased to meet you. I can’t wait for you to come in a couple of weeks.”

“Me, too,” Hannah says.

“Grayson told us you’re a nurse. How do you like it?”

Hannah lights up at the question. “Oh, I love it. I enjoy working with the staff and patients. Nothing I’d rather be doing.”

Pride fills her voice as she talks about her job, and it makes me happy to know she’s doing something she enjoys.

“Well, we’ll let you go back to your day. It was so nice to meet you, Hannah. I can’t wait to see you in a couple weeks. Welcome to the family,” Mom says before hanging up.

Hannah whips around and faces me, crossing her arms over her chest. Feisty Hannah is out to play, and I’m here for it. I smirk, and it only causes her checks to turn red. She’s adorable when she’s irritated with me.

“What exactly did you tell them about us?”

“The truth.”

She huffs. “Your version of the truth and my version are probably very different. So, I’d like words. What did you tell them?”

“I told them we got married in Vegas during the convention and that you’re coming with me to visit in a couple weeks.”

She narrows her eyes as if she’s trying to send laser beams my way in a hope of reducing me to ash. I hold back my laugh.

“Really, that’s all?”

“Yes, Spitfire, that’s all.”

She shakes her head and drops her arms. “Then why was your mom so nice to me if she knows it was just a drunken mistake?”

“Because she loves and supports me. I think she was more hurt that she didn’t get to see me get married.”

Hannah looks up, and I see that she’s on the verge of tears. I reach forward to wipe any tears that might fall, but she takes a step back out of my reach.

“I’m fine.” She sighs. “I’m going to go to Olivia’s. I’ll have my phone if you need anything.”

She turns and leaves, closing the door behind her. The conversation with my mother seems to have shaken her, but I’m not sure why Mom accepting her and our marriage would bother her. Hannah’s always been a woman of few words when it comes to her emotions. I wish she would open up and tell me what’s going on. Why that conversation affected her the way it did. Is it because her mother has always been so hard on her? Is it that she doesn’t want my mother to accept her? Hearing Mom welcome her to the family really had it sinking in that I’m married to Hannah Smith. Hannah Smith is my wife.

When it was just our friends who knew, it was easier to let the reality of it not sink in. Her mother was so far removed from us that it didn’t really impact my view of our relationship either. Hearing my parents refer to her as family made it all so much more real.

I need a plan. I need her to feel comfortable during this visit to my family. If this trip goes badly, I know nothing can salvage this; no amount of begging or trying will get her to agree to stay after the ninety days.

Giving her some space is the best thing I can do right now. Smothering her and not allowing her to process would drive her away. She built up this facade, and she’s not going to allow anyone to break through it. I’m going to have to go step-by-step, slowly pulling away each layer that she built around herself, if I want this to work.

I settle back on the couch and grab her book, opening it where I left off. This man is obsessed with the female main character. Before I know it, I’ve finish the book. I leave it on the coffee table and see another one she’s left on the side table. This one has no bookmark. I read the back, and it seems like it’s not as dark as the one I was just reading. Opening it to the first page, I start. As I read, I notice a commonality between the main male characters in both books. They’re obsessed with their women. I can relate. That feeling of wanting to be close to them, wanting to reach out and touch them, to spend your every waking hour with them. I feel that with Hannah. She may not know it, but I’m obsessed with her. If she told me to drop to my knees and crawl to her, I would. I would do whatever she asked me to.

A key turns in the lock on the door, and I quickly close the book, place it on the table, and grab my phone. When Hannah walks in, she glances at me before dropping her keys on the counter and heading into her room. Her room. In a matter of three weeks, I have managed to end up married to someone who hates me and lost my bedroom, and now I’m sleeping on my couch. I’m having the worst night’s sleep I’ve ever had, but to have Hannah that close is worth it.

Eventually, Hannah comes out in her pyjamas, grabs a glass of water, and settles on the other end of the couch. She delicately tucks her legs underneath her and positions herself before grabbing a blanket and draping it across her legs. Even as warm as it is, she always has a blanket. This girl would rather open every single window in the apartment and cover herself with a blanket than relax without one.

I pass the remote, and she smiles softly. I don’t think she realizes she does it. Usually, when she notices, she quickly changes her facial expression to a neutral one. This soft, acknowledging smile makes me giddy. Not a word I think I’ve ever used to describe how I’m feeling.

She puts on a reality TV show, and I sit and watch it with her. I enjoy her every reaction to the events on the screen. At one point she stretches out, her feet coming out from underneath the blanket. When she’s not looking, I position her feet on my lap and start working my thumbs into the soles. She bites her lip. Her eyes dart to me every once in a while, but neither of us say a word. I continue to work my thumbs into her feet, and she slowly melts further into the couch, slipping towards me. I eventually move up her calf, massaging the muscles and watching her face react.

As I watch her, I realize how close I am. It wouldn’t take much for me to lean over and kiss her. To brush my lips over the delicate skin of her neck. To hear her breath hitch as mine dances over the shell of her ear.

I remember our first kiss. I’ve been no saint. I’ve kissed many women in my time, but the kiss with Hannah was something entirely different. I never felt so centred.

Ever since the day I met her, Hannah has pulled me into her orbit. After senior year, I was going through the motions. I had a plan. Go to medical school, get a degree, start working in a hospital. I did that. I was floating, just allowing the world to take me where it wanted to take me. When I met Hannah, she sucked me in. I enjoyed talking to her, bantering. I hadn’t done that in a long time. Then after our first date, she let me kiss her.

The second our lips touched, she became my anchor.

I wasn’t floating anymore. I was attached to her. I know how weird that sounds, that after such a short period of time and a single kiss I had such strong feelings for her. But it was the energy she put out. I recognized it. I recognized the facade, because I was putting on the same one. This illusion that everything’s all right, that you’re a happy-go-lucky person, when in reality it’s all very different.

The only other person who understands how I feel is Rebecca, but after everything, I don’t think I can go back and talk to her. I can’t be the catalyst of another breakdown. I can’t watch her go through all of that again. My parents were always supportive. They were there for me through all of it, but they didn’t experience it the way that I did. The way Rebecca did. As much as I love my parents, they’re not the people I can turn to for this. I can’t turn to Hannah either.

Anyone who watches me sees someone playful who cracks jokes and gives his friends shit. Between the hospital, my friends, and hockey, I’m always surrounded by people, but a couple years ago, it really hit me that I’m lonely. Once I stopped using random women to fill my time to distract me, it was like a sucker punch to the gut. The first time I attempted to flirt with someone after the incident with Hannah, it made my stomach turn. I tried to push past it. I knew Hannah wouldn’t give me the time of day again, so I figured why not go back to my life before when I distracted myself from the pain and loneliness. I never got past a chaste kiss with a woman. The fact that my last sober kiss wasn’t with Hannah kills me. If I was someone else, I might turn to alcohol, but after seeing the way it affects people and their families, it’s not something I could do.

Hannah eventually falls asleep, and I slowly move myself from under her and carry her to the room. Seeing her curled up in my bed pulls at my heart. I want to see her like this every day for the rest of my life. She looks so peaceful, in a way she’s never looked while awake. I tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear and barely stop myself from kissing her forehead.

I quietly leave the room and make my way back to the couch, settling under a blanket with her book before I finally pass out.