25. Macy

Chapter 25

Macy

" S leeping Beauty," a deep voice coos.

I squint open an eye and lift the covers over my face. Grayson pulls them all the way off the bed, exposing my naked body to the crisp air. I groan and sit up, my hair a wild entity against my back. "What do you want?" I ask through my teeth.

He clears his throat and mumbles, "I mistakenly awoke the beast." Then his eyes are raking down my body, and clear images of last night take over. I don't shy away from the memory or my nakedness. I embrace it with a smile, then climb out of his bed and make my way to his bathroom to brush my teeth with my finger and take a much-needed shower. I rub his sandalwood scented soap over my skin, his aroma potent in the steam.

Grayson is in the kitchen flipping pancakes while eggs cook on a separate pan. As though he can sense my presence, he says, "You snore, by the way." He turns to me and frowns at the clothes I put on, as if he wished I had come out here naked.

"Well, you talk in your sleep," I lie.

"About?"

I walk further into his kitchen and sit on a barstool. "Puffins."

He eyes me with amusement. "Puffins?"

"You heard me."

"So, you're saying that I went on and on about puffins the entire night?"

"Yup."

"Interesting," he drags the word out, appearing thoughtful with his eyes narrowed on the sunset wall.

"Why is that?"

"Because I have no clue what a puffin even is."

We stare at each other for several moments until I'm breaking out into laughter. The kind that hurts your stomach and causes tears to trickle from your eyes. Suddenly, Grayson is right before me, his mouth is on mine.

His hands find their way into my hair, and I deepen the kiss by parting my lips and sweeping my tongue across his. A zing drops between my legs when he groans. I blink open my eyes when I smell something burning. He doesn't notice until I gently push him back. His gaze is entranced on my lips until he inhales. He rushes to the stove and grins at the black circles that were once pancakes. "The world could be burning down, and I wouldn't have a single clue." He faces me. "I am enthralled in you."

After we eat our eggs and split the only pancake that didn't burn as much as the rest, I peel myself from him and go home to find my parents sipping coffee on the couch and watching the morning news like always.

"Where's Walter?" I ask.

My dad merely glances at me. "He won't be coming back." He doesn't elaborate.

I'll have to see him again. My belongings are in the house we own together, well, that's if he hasn't set them on fire or donated everything I own to a thrift store. Although, both of those options would be too much of an effort for him.

My mom's gaze drags over me, then she glances toward the direction of Grayson's house. "Did you have a good time at your friend's house?" The corner of her mouth lifts ever so slightly before she turns back to the TV.

My cheeks flame and I nod.

"Our flight is in three hours."

I feel myself freeze in place. " Our flight?"

"Your father's and mine. You seem…settled here, so we didn't book you one."

"I'll drive you!" I exclaim, glad they aren't going to give me a hard time or try to drag me to Idaho.

I drive them to the airport, and we talk like any normal family would. Right as my dad is leaving my car, suitcase in hand, he says, "I saw one of your books in the airport on the way here. Someone was buying one and I told her Minerva Day is my daughter."

I hug them goodbye and a sense of peace washes over me. For once in my life, I feel truly seen by my parents. Everything is falling into place like the world is wholly on my side. Tears that resemble something akin to joy sting my eyes as I drive home. Home . That's what Sanibel has always been to me. But now, I don't just think about palm trees and salty waves curling over my toes. I picture him waiting for me.

I've spent nearly every moment away from the island wishing I was there. I refuse to spend my life dreaming that I live a different one.

I'm not engaged anymore. I don't have a job in Idaho. My true friends are here, but most importantly, so is Grayson. I'm free to do whatever makes me happy. It's as if the clouds have dissipated to reveal a serene sky.

As I pull into Grayson's driveway, there's a smile stretched across my face. I'm going to move to Sanibel.

I rush to his house and swing open the door, grateful to find it's unlocked, so I wouldn't have to wait for him to let me in. I can't imagine sitting still right now. I have thousands of words on the tip of my tongue, begging to be let out. He's not in the living room, and as I search his house for him, my heart speeds as if I'm running, and when I find his bedroom empty, I conclude he's not home. But I am so pent up, I can't just sit and wait for him, so I make myself busy and tidy up his room.

After I make his bed, I find the pack of condoms from last night sitting on his bedside table and blush. I pull out the drawer to put them back, finding a sand dollar and a picture frame face down. I shouldn't rummage through his things, but what would it hurt to look at a photo? I pick it up and turn it around with anticipation.

I smile when I see it's the childish picture frame he bought when we went home décor shopping together. My eyes fall to the picture. Something booms loudly in my ears, and I realize it's my heart, like the beating thing in my chest recognizes him before I do. Everything seems to fall away, as if a vacuum has sucked the air from the room.

In the picture, Daniel, the boy who once lived in Grayson's house, grins widely in his mom's lap, who sits on a beach chair. His dad stands behind them, a little girl on his shoulders.

Arms twist around my waist and I yelp, dropping the photo onto the bed. Grayson's body tenses against mine, and he whispers in a terrified voice, "What are you doing?"

My heart was beating so loud that I was unaware he came back. He turns me to face him, his eyes wide and alert as he takes in my expression. I exhale a steady breath. "You scared me," I whisper, then wrap my arms around him and tuck my face against his chest. Home.

He's slow to hug me back. His heart beneath my ear beats as quickly as mine did a moment ago.

I pull away to pick the photo back up and trace my index finger over the boy I once swore I loved. "Where did you get this?" I ask, still staring at the familiar face in the picture.

I look to Grayson, waiting for his response, but when my eyes land on his, a feeling of déjà vu washes over me. I glance down at the printed little boy and his grin.

That grin.

The world tilts on its axis. The dimples in the photo, the eyes, and the nose—they belong on Grayson's face, yet they're right here on someone else's.

"Macy—" His voice stumbles over my name, breaking on the last syllable.

"Where did you get this?" I demand, trying to make sense of it.

His expression is full of sorrow. Of pain.

"No," I say, shaking my head in denial. "No, no, no ." My chest feels exposed, like a hole ripped through it, exposing my heart to the airless room. I turn from him without an ounce of control over my body. My head still shakes, as if I have the power to deny what's happening right now. To make it less real.

"Mace, please—" His arm touches my shoulder and I brush it off and cross the room.

"How?" I ask. I can't believe I didn't recognize him. It's so clear. "Daniel," I breathe his true name.

Hurt crosses his face like he's been gutted, but that can't be true. Maybe I'm seeing my pain projected onto him.

"Did you know who I was?" I wonder out loud. "You read my name on my boarding pass. I told you I was going to my grandparents' house in Sanibel—of course you knew," I whisper. My heart somersaults at the prospect of finding him again, yet my mind sees the betrayal. He lied. The organs battle between what I should do in this moment, if I should wrap my arms around the boy I once loved or let myself hate him.

"I'm so sorry." His voice shakes and he holds up a hand. He looks moments away from crumbling.

"For pretending we were strangers? You were there when Sarah and I were talking about you, and you didn't say anything!" I'm so deeply wounded that anger disguises my pain to protect me from it. "You kissed me, knowing exactly who I was. We had sex!" He's a blur behind my tears. I hate how I cry when I'm mad, because he crosses the room and wraps me in his arms as if I need comfort.

I push him away which causes his face to fall. "You lied about your name!" I realize now that he never once told me his last name, and I never bothered to ask. This entire time, I only knew him as Grayson. A fake name.

He struggles to speak, and I realize he's crying too. For the first time in over a decade. "Macy, please—" His voice comes out fragmented. I can hardly understand him. His chest heaves as if he can't breathe. "Let me explain." He shakes his head. "Grayson is my m-middle name."

I feel like a paper target, my very center punched out by a thousand bullets. I thought he was different. As close to perfect as someone could get. I thought he was mine, that I unveiled his last mask. I was so wrong. So blind. So stupid.

"Why lie?" I ask in a soft voice.

"I want to tell you, b-but I can't manage to say it— damn it !" He squeezes the roots of his hair.

"You made me feel so special," I say, trying to wrap my mind around him being Daniel. They're separate people in my mind, and now I need to merge the two. His last name is Wright. I remember now.

"You are special to me, Mace."

Now, I realize, beneath all his masks, Daniel Grayson Wright is a liar to his very core.

"Then why didn't you tell me?" I snap. "In the airport, when you saw me, why the hell wouldn't you tell me who you were? Why pretend to be someone else?" I squeeze my hands into fists, the familiar bite of my nails brings me back to the morning I left Walter. It's like I'm reliving the memory, only Grayson has hurt me a million times worse than my ex-fiancé ever could've.

"Because I don't want to be Daniel." His voice breaks. "I wanted to tell you so many times, and I was going to, but I kept putting it off because…" His jaw clenches. "You have no idea how long it's been since I've been happy , and it's selfish, but I didn't want those lose that feeling, and being Daniel certainly would've chased it away."

"You're making no sense."

His eyebrows pull together. "You make me happy , Mace, and suddenly all this time had passed, and I knew it'd ruin everything good between us if I told you, because then you'd think I was a liar?—"

"You are a liar!"

"I'm not a li?—"

"You lied about who you are!" I shout at him. "God, you might be worse than Walt?—"

"Don't," he snaps darkly. He fists the roots of his hair. "I'm not Daniel anymore."

I laugh dryly. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"That happy boy you knew, the one you told Sarah you loved? He's gone, Macy. He died the day his family did!" The man standing before me crumbles to the floor, as if he can't hold himself up anymore.