Page 25 of Keeping You

Han

But you said you’d always love me.

Liv

Cheering for Toronto is just unforgiveable, that might be the only thing we couldn’t make it past.

Han

Okay. Fine.

Liv

Good girl.

Han

Don’t get me started

Now I know how to get under Grayson’s skin. We sit and watch the rest of the first period. As intermission ends, the food is delivered and Grayson meets the driver at the front door. The puck is dropped and St. Louis gains possession, then they do what I’ve heard Liv call a turnover. Edmonton takes the puckand has three players making their way toward the St. Louis goal. A cross-ice pass has the puck in the back of the net, and I’m up and cheering. Grayson’s head whips to me as he takes the food from the delivery driver, and I watch as his facial expression sours as he catches the replay on the screen.

He doesn’t say anything. He just sets the food on the coffee table and returns to the kitchen. He comes back with a couple of plates and cutlery, and tucked under his arm are a bottle of wine and a beer. He has a wine glass positioned perfectly upside down with the stem slipped between his fingers under the plates he’s holding. He holds out his hand, and I take the wine glass and plates, setting them on the table as he opens the wine for me and pours a glass before opening his beer. We make our plates and settle back. I continue to cheer for Edmonton, enjoying the sour look on Grayson’s face every time I do.

The game ends 6-4 in Edmonton’s favour.

“That was fun,” I say and I feel Grayson’s assessing gaze on me.

“Since when do you cheer for Edmonton?” he asks.

I gnaw on my lip, holding back the smile that wants to overtake my face. I really want to say since you don’t, but I hold my tongue. “Oh, I just thought I’d have some national spirit and cheer for the Canadian team.”

His eyes narrow, and he nods slightly. He grabs the takeout containers and shakes his head muttering to himself, “I’m married to someone who cheers for fucking Edmonton.”

It takes every bit of me not to break out into uproarious laughter. Who knew cheering for a different team could get this kind of reaction?

I finish my glass of wine and wash my glass before saying, “Thank you for dinner. I’m going to read my book. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Lying in bed, I find the text from my mom with the details of the party on Saturday before grabbing my Kindle and opening my latest book.

Grayson and I both work the night shift the next two days. I’m not sure how we’ve managed to be on the same schedule so much as we didn’t used to be. Both nights he manages to talk himself out of a very instant Samantha’s invite to eat together during their break. Instead, he joins me, making small talk about things of literally no importance. On Saturday, we both manage very short naps before we need to get ready to head to my mom’s for her birthday.

I type my mom’s address into the GPS, and Grayson drives us. My mom and her husband, Richard, live in an upscale residential neighbourhood. The homes are large, and you can tell just from the look of them that the people living inside have money. Each home in this area is worth between three and six million. Richard’s place is on the upper end of that spectrum. He and my mom met and married when I was just leaving home for college when she finished her serial dating phase after her second divorce. I never got to experience the wealth and fancy things she does now, and I would be happy for her if I knew she was in it for more than the money. I don’t think Richard is a bad guy by any means, I just don’t think my mother is capable of loving anyone other than herself.

Grayson finds street parking half a block from their house. Holding a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine, I watch as Grayson gets out of the car, but I can’t seem to follow. I stare out the window, taking a deep breath and holding it. A party with my mother is never my idea of fun. She’s so good at putting on this face to the rest of the world that shows a loving, caring, supportive person, but I know the minute she gets me alone, she’ll find some way to tear me down. It used to be comments about my relationship status, or my body, or the way I presentedmyself, or talked. I wasn’t the perfect little Barbie doll she wanted.

The passenger door is pulled open, and I turn my head to see Grayson watching me with concern.

“Are you okay?”

I can’t speak, so I just nod.

He reaches for the bottle of wine, taking it from me, and uses his other hand to hold my now-free one. He squeezes it. “I’ll be by your side the entire time. I’ve got you.”

Grayson Maxwell might not be my favourite person in the world, but those words, I’ve got you, bring me comfort and give me the strength I need to get out of the car and make my way to the front door.

Grayson knocks, and I hold my breath, waiting for someone to answer. I let out the breath when Richard answers. He smiles fondly at me and opens the door wider for us to come in.

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