Page 99 of Eleanor & Grey

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Claire exclaimed that afternoon as Lorelai came racing out of her bedroom toward her grandmother. She had come over to pick up the girls for their weekend get together. Lorelai leaped into Claire’s arms for a tight hug as I stood there stunned.

“It’s Lorelai’s birthday?” I asked as Claire released her granddaughter and told her to go pick up her weekend bag. “I had no clue. We could’ve celebrated.”

“Yes, she’s six today.” She glanced toward Greyson’s office. “How’s he doing today? I’ve been calling him all day but he’s been ignoring my calls.”

I stood in the living room, still stunned from my interaction with Greyson. “He actually fired me.”

“What?” Her eyes widened with concern. “Over what?” I explained to her what had happened, and she took a deep breath. “Oh, I see. Poor Lorelai.”

“She was heartbroken.”

“Everyone in this house is heartbroken,” she agreed. “I should’ve known this would be a tough time for everyone. I was just truly hoping it would bring Greyson closer to his girls, instead of pushing him away.”

“What do you mean?”

“Today’s the one year anniversary of the accident.” She lowered her head and sniffled. “I felt it over the past few weeks, Greyson retreating a little. I know he’s been cold since it happened, but I felt him getting colder.”

I swallowed hard, feeling awful, knowing I’d just snapped on him while having no idea about his personal struggles. Of course he was struggling—how could he not?

“I had no clue,” I confessed. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed him.”

“It’s not your fault. You had no idea.”

I heard her words, and yet, a tightness still remained in my chest. I felt nothing less than guilt.

When I had stormed into Greyson’s office, I’d entered not only as a concerned nanny, but as a daughter who had many times been swallowed by anger at a father who’d emotionally abandoned me. I had gone in without a clear head and said things I shouldn’t have said. I’d barged into his space, and snapped not only for Lorelai, but for me, for every child who felt invisible to their parents.

While I had been hollering about the unjust situation at hand, I hadn’t had a clue about the storm Greyson was battling on his own.

Claire placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me a light squeeze. “You’re apologizing for pushing him, but I feel like that’s what needs to happen. Greyson needs a wake-up call from someone. He needs to be pushed, so thank you for that. Thank you for forcing him to break out of his slumber.”

“I don’t know if it helped him at all, and it doesn’t matter much anyway since he fired me.”

Claire gave me a smile and shook her head back and forth a bit. “Give it the weekend. He just needs to get through it, that’s all. One day at a time. You’ve outlasted all the other nannies by months, and that has to count for something. So, don’t go dusting off your resume just yet. Let some of the smoke clear.”

I should’ve headed home after Greyson fired me. I should’ve been curled up on my couch with a novel and tea, but I couldn’t do it because that felt wrong. I couldn’t wrap my head around leaving Greyson on what would be the loneliest, hardest night of his life.

He had stayed on the phone with me for hours the night my mother passed away, never once walking away. I owed him the same thing he’d given me—companionship.

After some time had passed, I walked to Greyson’s front door and knocked, but he didn’t answer, even though I could see him through the window. He stood in the living room, staring at the roaring fire, holding something in his hands.

I knocked once more, and he didn’t move in the slightest.

With a deep breath, I took out my keys and unlocked his front door. I was already fired—

what was the worst he could do now? Call the cops on me for breaking and entering with the key he’d given me?

I’d take my chances with that.

“Greyson,” I said softly, moving in his direction.

He didn’t react to my voice, not even a flinch, as if he hadn’t heard me.

“Greyson, are you okay?” I walked closer to him, my nerves building up with each step. He turned around slowly, and when I saw his eyes washed over with emotion, my chest tightened.

He’d been crying. He had to have been.

No one’s eyes could’ve been that red and puffy if there wasn’t some kind of emotion spilling from them.

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