Page 133 of Doctorshipped
Next message:
“Jayme. It’s me. I wondered if my previous messages might not have reached you.” Long pause. “I … um … Well, you know I want to talk face to face. When you’re ready. I won’t give up on us. I want to say that too. I want to say a lot of things.”
There are some grunting and grumbling sounds that make me tear up. Why does he have to be so very Grant?
“Sorry. You’re not responsible for my emotions right now. I’m just really frustrated. This whole thing was a blindside and a train wreck. And I’d like to … I want to see you. I … Please call when you’re ready.”
His voice sounds so fragile—so unlike him. It’s him, but this broken version I’ve never experienced before. The messages go on. Some shorter, some longer. I listen to them all. Each one is a variation of the same theme. He’s sorry. He didn’t cheat. He’s concerned. He wants me to call when I’m ready.
I’m not ready, but something about the frailty in his pleading tone makes me feel like I’m the only one who can relieve him of the pain he’s in—and I know he’s in pain. Whatever this is, I still love him. I owe him nothing, but I want to give him something anyway.
So, I wash my face, run a brush through my hair, change from my crinkled clothes into yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt that says,Anything You Say Or Do May Be Used In My Novels. Shannon got it for me last year on my birthday. Maybe the message is subliminal and not so subtle today, but I’m wearing it anyway.
I take a shuddery breath and walk out into the hallway. Lexi hears me. Of course. She has mom ears.
“Jayme? Is that you?”
Poppy echoes her mom’s words. “Jaaaymeee? Dat you?”
I can’t help but smile. “Yeah, Poppy. It’s me.”
“Hiya Mit Jayme!” Poppy shouts from her booster at the dining table. “You eat wit us?”
“No, I have to go out for a bit. I’ll eat with you tomorrow, okay?”
“Otay.”
Poppy takes her free hand, the one not holding her plastic spork, and blows me a sloppy kiss. I pretend to catch it and smack it onto my cheek. She busts into giggles.
“Are you feeling better?” Lexi asks.
“A little,” I tell her. Maybe I should tell her more, but everything is so raw. Besides, I don’t really know what I’d say.Grant was in the kitchen with a strange woman so I dropped a vase of flowers and ran off like a lunaticsounds pretty psycho.
Grant’s messages may have been vague, but it’s clear he has something to tell me. It’s not nothing. I wasn’t crazy. My intuition may have been off thinking “affair,” but there was something going on, something Grant feels needs an explanation. He’s not condemning me for overreacting, or even insinuating that I am, so I know I’m about to hear details that may shock me—and worse, they may break us apart, despite the fact that it seems we both want to stay together.
Lexi searches my face. I’ve been staring at a painting on the wall, not moving.
“You sure you’re good?” she asks again.
“I’m going to be. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“I’ll be here. For anything.”
She’s obviously picking up on the,this wasn’t the stomach flu or food poisoning,vibe of my reality.
It takes the usual ten minutes to get to Grant’s. I didn’t even call him or text to let him know I was coming. Considering the scene I walked in on this afternoon, I probably should have. I park my car and pull out my phone to text Grant.
A light comes on over the porch, and Grant walks out, looking haggard and weary. His eyes meet mine and an urge nearly overpowers me to run to him and wrap my arms around him, assuring him whatever this is, we can walk through it together.
I step out of my car carefully, putting that caregiving, easily-forgiving part of myself on a short leash. I deserve a man who can be honest and open. I deserve someone looking out for my heart. I’ll always look out for Grant. Will he always look out for me?
40
GRANT
She came.
I walk cautiously toward Jayme, afraid anything I do or say could cause her to bolt. Not that I’d blame her right now—not at all.
