32. Macy

Chapter 32

Macy

" Y ou are a brilliant woman," Grayson says, and when I turn to him, he has the brightest grin on his face.

I wrap my arms around myself, my toes buried in the sand. A gentle wave curls over my feet. The sun beams down on my head and shoulders, but the delicate breeze chases away the burning heat. "It's not a big deal," I say.

"Not a big deal?" He says, shocked. "You just announced the release date of your fourth book! You're only twenty-three. That's pretty fucking impressive."

I've never had another person to celebrate these milestones with. "I—yeah. You're right. It is impressive, and I worked really hard." I turn to him, clad in golden sunlight. "Thank you."

"Wear something pretty tonight. I'm taking you out." A dream. Grayson is my dream.

"Okay," I whisper. Then, he picks me up and twirls me in his arms, my laugh picked up by the breeze and my stomach in wonderful knots.

Sometimes I wish I could fold myself into a paper story with the promise of a happy ending. From an onlooker's perspective, we are a love story coming to the last chapter in a novel. If we were, I would proclaim my love, he would love me too, and we'd live happily ever after. But we aren't words strung together on a page, orchestrated by a woman's desire to fall in love a million times over through her own words.

The night begins with me curling my hair and trying on ten different outfits until I decide on an olive-green tank top with a deep neckline that shows off the little bit of cleavage I have. I pair it with black jeans and my Converse.

I nearly scream from the sight of Grayson sitting on my sofa when I come out of my bathroom. "What the hell?" I glare at him.

"You left the back door unlocked. You might want to be better about that if you don't want uninvited visitors sitting on your couch." His eyes rake over my body. They seem to darken when he says, "You are radiant."

I lift my chin and act nonchalant about his compliment. "I just threw on the first thing I saw hanging in the closet." I shrug and turn to grab my purse hanging on the wall. With my back to him, I smile.

He leads me to his car, and I take in his attire. He wears loafers, dark jeans paired with a button-down shirt, the cuffs rolled up to reveal the veins in his muscled forearms.

He holds the door open for me, and the space smells of leather, sandalwood, and a hint of strawberry lingering on his clothes. With tourists coming and going, a drive can sometimes take longer than a bike ride. "Where are we going?" I ask.

"Don't get too excited," he says, placing his palm on my knee.

"Don't be ridiculous. A night out with you? I would never."

His hand moves up my thigh by a hair. "The last night you spent with me, you seemed…rather enlivened."

I glare at him, and with his eyes on the road, they crinkle at the sides. "What will you write next?" he asks.

"I have something brewing in my mind."

"Will you ever run out of love stories?" he asks curiously.

"Never," I say. "A woman can never grow tired of romance, and I will never stop imagining fictional relationships."

"Can I ask you a question?" he asks after a few moments.

"If I can ask you one."

"Fair enough." He clears his throat. "I've read your books. All of them, might I add. The way you write about falling in love…it always feels so real. Like I'm falling in love alongside the characters."

"That wasn't a question."

"Right," he says. "Did you love Walter?"

"In the beginning I thought so. I felt all the things I write in my books, but it wasn't long until the euphoria of a new relationship vanished. Sobered, I was left with a man who didn't love or respect me, yet I stayed with him for years to get those feelings back. I wasn't in love with him . I was in love with love itself, and I confused the two. I tried to ignite a wet match, but it was never going to catch fire, because Walter wasn't a man I could love."

"So, if you've never been in love, how do you know what you're writing is real?"

"What makes you think I've never been in love?"

He's silent for a minute, his hand stiff on my thigh. "Oh. I guess I just assumed Walter was your first relationship."

Even when I was too young to understand the emotion, that string around my heart was tied to Daniel's. It's always been him. And here he is, sitting in the driver's seat, holding my thigh. The man who introduced me to love, the one who disappeared and left me with nothing but my words and the stories in my head. He's the foundation of every love story I've ever written. "He was," I whisper. I love him down to my bones, to the very atoms making up my existence.

He doesn't prod any further. "Your turn. Ask away."

Out of the millions of questions I could ask, I settle on one of insignificance. "Have you ever had a girlfriend?" I'm not sure I'd like to know.

"Oh," he says, appearing thoughtful for a moment when he says, "I actually have a girlfriend. She won't be happy when she finds out about you though."

I glare at him.

"No," he says, dropping the act. "I've never had one."

"But you've…" I let that part of my sentence trail off, hoping he'll pick up what was implied.

"Yes, Macy," he says in a bored tone. "I've had sex before." I'm not surprised. He definitely knows what he's doing in that department. "I've slept with girls I met at work conventions. I've never had sex with the same person more than once."

"Is that supposed to make me feel special or something?"

"No. Sorry, that came out wrong." He sighs. "Sex was a refuge for me. It was an escape from my own thoughts, similar to running. But it was never about feeling connected to another person. It was…I don't know—" he says with frustration. "It's never been how it is with you."

He spent nearly his entire life in isolation, to the point where even his sex life was spent in solitary. My heart aches for him. But maybe this is a turning point for him. Hope inflates within the walls of my chest and if I could extend some to him, I'd do so in a heartbeat. I squeeze his hand resting on my leg.

"We're here," he says.

I look out the window and see the familiar parking lot of The BARnacle. I grin when he slides out of the car and comes to open my door. "Such a gentleman."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew the things I'm thinking every time I look at you. I really like that shirt by the way."

I tilt my head back and laugh. A breeze blows my hair into my face, so I turn the opposite way, so it blows behind me. I gather the strands in my hand and rush inside.

Dozens of voices yell at once. "Surprise!" Instinctively I flinch and ram backward into Grayson's chest. His arms twist around me, he whispers against my ear, "Congratulations on your fourth book, Minerva Day." I can hear the grin in his voice.

In the dim lit bar, all my friends laugh and record me with their phones. Sarah is standing on the bar holding a huge sign that reads " Minerva Day is my favorite author!" Tammy crosses the room and pinches my cheek. "Four books." She shakes her head in wonder. "I know you're making your grandma and grandpa very proud."

"Thank you," I say with emotion heavy in my voice.

Her eyes lift to the man whose arms are wrapped around me. "You've got a keeper, hun." He did all of this for me.

"Hey, man. Good to see you," Elliot says to Grayson, who releases me to embrace our friend.

Suddenly, a thin arm is draped across my shoulders, the person whose appendage it belongs to leads me further into the restaurant. She has a head of long blond hair. I smile at Sarah's sister, Julia. "I have a bone to pick with you and my sister for not telling me you've been in town for an entire month, but for now, I'm going to need you to sit in this lovely chair."

I glance at the bar stool in front of me and then eye her. She raises her eyebrows and gestures to the seat. I sigh while plopping onto it, and suddenly I'm swarmed by four or five people, the only one I'm focused on is Elliot who yells, "Three…two…one!" I'm lifted into the air on the stool, my eyes wide and mouth agape. I let out a screech and find Grayson a few feet away laughing at me. I point my index finger at him, hoping it conveys brutal threats, provoking his heavy laughter. I beg them to set me down, which they eventually do.

"All right, let's give her a minute to breathe," Sarah says, pulling Elliot to a nearby booth. Everyone begins to fill the tables. I lock eyes with Grayson who sits at the bar with a gentle smile in his eyes. The bartender hands him a drink, and then he crosses the room to hand it to me. I take the cold cup and drag a sip through the straw, letting a sound free when I swallow the strawberry beverage. I gaze up at him and smile. I got this drink in New York with him. So much has changed, it's hard to believe it was only a month ago. I lean up on the tips of my toes and press a kiss to his lips. It's not as discrete as I'd hoped because my friends start applauding.

"Minerva and Dracula!" Sarah calls. I shoot her a look which she shrugs off. Grayson and I join the table she occupies, along with Elliot, Tammy, and Julia. A few other people I know from town are here, but they sit on their own and talk among themselves. Once we're seated, Grayson stretches his arm over the back of the booth, and I lean into him.

"I'm Julia." She reaches across the table to shake Grayson's hand. "You must be the fiancé." She lifts her brows up and down, but quickly stops when she sees Sarah shaking her head. Julia looks between us.

"We should probably get this out in the open," Grayson says wryly. "Macy had a fiancé who turned out to be a pig, and I happened to be at the right place when she realized it." He smiles down at me.

"To breaking off engagements to pigs!" Julia says, lifting her glass for everyone to clink. I laugh at how quickly everyone moves past it.

"So, what's this new book about?" Tammy asks with hopeful eyes.

I shrug. "I guess you'll have to read it to find out."

"Boo!" Julia says. "We don't get any exclusive perks by knowing the author?"

"I bet Grayson knows," Sarah says. "Maybe we should sleep with Macy too."

Grayson clears his throat as though open discussion of our sex life puts him in discomfort, understandably so. "I'm dying to read it too, but apparently being…closely intertwined with her doesn't include those perks."

"So, Julia, how is nursing school going?" I ask to change the subject. The six of us fall into a comfortable rhythm. The sisters and I order several cocktails since Grayson and Elliot are our designated drivers. The boys eventually decide to play foosball, which Sarah and Julia decide is the perfect time to get away to catch up. Tammy declines our invite and goes home, claiming its past her bedtime. Now, I walk between my two girl friends, our arms linked, giggling as we make our way toward the beach. The three of us plop down in the sand, forming a small circle.

"I hate to be the person who immediately asks you about the boy in your life after not seeing each other for so long…but I'm slightly too drunk to be polite. Spill," Julia says.

I laugh at her straightforwardness and then share the story of how we met. Well, the second time we met.

"How do you go from hating the man to falling in love with him a month later?" Julia asks, slightly slurring her words.

"He must have mind boggling skills in the bedroom," Sarah answers.

I shoot her a look, and then the three of us break out into a fit of laughter. "Oh, I should probably mention the good news," I say. I wait a few seconds to add to the suspense, and then say, "I'm moving here!"

"Finally!" Sarah says with the brightest smile I've ever seen.

Julia reaches over and hugs me. "Okay, you're forgiven for not telling me you were in town sooner, but only if we can do weekly dinners again like when we were kids."

I laugh. "But with alcohol." I wiggle my eyebrows.

"I'm making a group chat so we can plan it," Julia says.

I give her Grayson's number and when I see the group chat pop up on my phone, my hope becomes bigger than my body. A boy who spent his life in isolation will never know loneliness again if I have anything to do with it.

"Let's go for a drive," Sarah says. She stands and wipes the sand off the backs of her legs.

Julia follows suit and holds out her hand for me to grab. I only saw Sarah with a couple of drinks tonight. I hesitate, but I think Sarah seems coherent enough to drive, so I take her sister's hand.