25. Delilah

Chapter 25

Delilah

T he edges of the romance book Grey returned dig into my soft palms while I stare at the front cover.

Behind me I can hear the spin cycle of my washing machine, soap suds washing away the remains of Grey on my bedsheets.

I run my nail along the pages mindlessly, peering out at my apartment from the comfort of my sofa. I've not been in this space for almost three weeks – the sheer thought of it too painful to handle. Choosing instead, to stay by my sister's side. For whatever reason, I'd felt able to bite the bullet this morning, never dreaming Grey would stop by.

Aurelia has placed the bunch of lilies he bought in a vase full of water on my coffee table, in plain sight. The colour of them doesn't pass me by; pink for admiration and love.

The feeling sits heavy in my chest, taking my breath away. Or perhaps that's the sheer terror. I'd loved before and it had broken my heart, so what could be so different this time around?

" You know why, " whispers my heart.

With my previous heartbreaks, I'd been left alone to deal with the aftermath. The man who I'd once called Dad so lovingly, had upped and left without another word, turning his back on his entire family, and making it look oh so easy. If he cared, of felt remorseful that he had broken apart his family, my world, so much so it would never look the same again, he never showed it.

Daniel was very much the same. He'd allowed the press, even his own team mates to treat me poorly, never once standing up or defending me. Once or twice he'd even agreed with their opinions, making me feel so small and as if I was imaging it all, blowing it out of proportion. When I made the decision to end our relationship, he didn't fight me on it. With a slow nod of his head and a flat line to his lips, he agreed it was for the best and said he would get out of my hair so I could pack up and leave.

But Grey…

He's here fighting for the two of us and that's the difference.

I've never been fought for, never knew I was good enough to be wanted that much, loved that much.

My poorly taped together heart still croons with its aching pain, but something sparks alive within me.

I've fought and fought and fought for other people, sometimes to the detriment of myself, my own well-being, and here is a man, a man I love, fighting for me, for us.

So, do I want to meet him halfway?

My nail catches on something tucked away behind the front cover of the novel I'm holding, the paper texture different to the one glued to the spine. I peer down, finding a sheet of paper folded into squares, Delilah scrawled across the front and signed with a kiss.

Gorgeous,

There's no other way I can start this letter than by saying I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for not telling you about my past career sooner. I never meant to keep it a secret, that was never my intention, but after you told me about your dad and about your ex I selfishly wanted to keep you for myself a little while longer. I was scared once you found out you'd walk away from us and not because you wanted too, but because fear makes people do crazy things.

I kept you for myself, instead of telling you the truth and allowing you the choice to choose us. It was unfair of me, and I simply shouldn't have done it.

When you're ready to talk I'll be here, even if it's to end our time together. I fucking hope not, I'm not ready to give up hope that they're even is an us. But if that's your decision, I'll respect it the way I should have the first time around, because your happiness should come first.

I hope you can forgive me… I hope I've not blown my chance to be yours. For you to be mine.

I miss you.

Grey x

I swipe at the tears collecting under my eyes, letting out a breath I'd been holding the entire time I'd been reading Grey's words. I feel lighter as soon as I do, wiping a clammy hand on my leggings.

Leaving the letter unfolded, his handwriting still staring back at me, I lay it down beside my bundle of pink lilies, my fingertips reaching up to toy with my studded earring.

It's obvious I've got a decision to make, one I've been putting off thinking about for the past couple of weeks. But I can't put it off any longer.

In the past couple of years, I've always gone with my head instead of my heart, even when they're screaming two completely different things, just like this time around. I want to break that pattern, I do, but I'm scared.

I'm scared of getting it wrong.

Of failing.

But will staying in the same position I've always been – a workaholic, too nervous to open herself up for love in case it breaks my heart – make me feel less of a failure?

Is that everything I want from life, or do I want more, do I crave more?

My answer to that question isn't tough. I do want more. I want to be brave enough to make the chance for myself, to take the risk, to do it for myself.

Grey's waiting for me, or at least I think he is as long as he's telling the truth in his letter. The leap is staring me right in the face, terrifying and bottomless, but there's something in me itchy, scratching to…

I reach for my mobile phone, which is down by the sofa cushions, typing in my code and pulling up Grey's contact. It rings twice, three times and then, "Delilah?"

I lick my lips nervously, tracing the curves of my name stained in ink while I speak. "I read your letter. I'm free Wednesday if you'd like to talk?"

"I'd love to. I'm teaching swim classes until your slot at six, but—"

"I could meet you in the café? I'm not ready to get back in the water this week, not just yet, so…"

In the background, I hear a sharp whistle blow, followed by the rattle of tracks.

"Sorry, I'm just getting the train home. It's a Sunday, and—"

"It's the weekly Millen dinner, I remember."

"Yeah," Grey agrees with an audible small smile. "I haven't been in a few weeks because…" He stops mid-sentence, the flow disrupted, before carrying on as if our break isn't hanging in the air. "Hudson is practically dragging me there, but it'll be good to see everyone. I can't wait to see you on Wednesday."

I hum noncommittedly, twisting the back of my earring until it pops off. "It'll be nice to talk."

As soon as I've uttered my goodbyes to Grey, I video phone Aurelia, nibbling at the inside of my cheek while the dial tone sounds.

"You okay?" she asks straight away. "Do you need me to come back? We can—"

"Grey left me a letter."

"A letter?"

"Yes." I bring the paper up in view of the dot like camera. "It was tucked in the book I loaned him."

"What does it say?"

I read the letter out of my sister, needing a quick drink of water after I've finished because of how dry my mouth is.

"Say something," I plead after she's silent for too many heartbeats, simply staring at me through the pixilated screen.

"I–so, that boy is head over heels in love with you."

My breath catches in my throat. "You think?"

"I know." She grins, tucking a glossy strand of hair behind her ear. "I mean, he all but said it at the door. He told you he was falling for you, had already fallen but wanted those words to be special. You heard him, you know deep down he's in love with you, Delilah, his letter only confirms it. And why wouldn't he be? You're amazing, your beautiful inside and out, you're easy to love."

"Ugh, don't." I waft my hand in front of my face, feeling my cheeks flush and my eyes burn with more tears. "I'm an emotional wreck."

"So, have you spoken to him? Or are you sitting there, talking yourself out of it and I need to come back there and kick your—"

"I rang him."

Aurelia smiles so wide, infectious joy written all over her features. "What did he say? What did you say?"

"We're going to meet on Wednesday in the leisure centre café."

"Do you know what you're going to say to him?"

I glance down and shrug. "Not really. I mean, kind of, but I want to hear what he has to say too. I'm fucking terrified of taking the leap, letting him know how much he means to me, but I don't… I don't want to sit here thinking about the what ifs or missing my chance at happiness just because I'm worried about failing. Failing in our relationship. Failing to be enough. Failing to let myself be loved. I want it so badly; I want him so badly and I think… I think I owe it to myself to take the leap and try. Failure or no failure."

"I'm so fucking proud of you, Delilah." Another round of tears pours down my cheeks.

"I'm proud of me too," I say, feeling that truth settle in my bones, in my heart.

M y stomach is a riot of butterflies for the entirety of Wednesday.

I can hardly concentrate on the manuscript sitting in front of me, I haven't managed to get my email inbox down to zero, and I practically high tail it out of our weekly board meeting when the clock signals the end of the working day.

The tube is cramped with passengers, as always, although this time the metallic scent of rain clings to skin, mixed with the plastic smell of raincoats and umbrellas being used to ward off the sudden downpour hailing down outside. September is well underway, erasing every inch of the hot summer sun which had been sitting in the sky only a few days ago.

Shaking off the raindrops I've collected on my walk, I step through the automatic doors of the leisure centre, smiling at the woman behind the desk.

Chlorine permeates the air already, laying thick and heavy, interspersed with the warm heat I've come to associate with the activity centre; something muggy and cloying, but addictive all the same.

I take a seat in the otherwise deserted café, intently listening to the continuous sound of the pulsing juicer machine and the raucous sound of laughter coming from down the hallway leading to the changing rooms.

Using the app, I politely purchase a pot of tea for two, milk and sugar included, and then peer around while I wait for my hot drink or Grey to arrive, whichever decides to come first.

A woman walks down the stairs, coming from the upstairs gym, her hairline drenched in sweat. Her gym bag bangs off the backs of her tight legging clad thighs as she descends, turning the tight corner to enter the café section. Catching my gaze, she returns the smile I give her, reeling off a berry smoothie order to the barista behind the counter.

Turning my head, I peer out of the window that looks out onto the pool. It's busy today, most of the lanes filled with swimmers moving at different paces. The children's pool is empty except for a stray float bobbing in the centre of the water, but I can spot the beginnings of the class lining up along the wall brimming with nervous excitement. One small boy, bright orange armbands adorning his arms, matching goggles plastered to his forehead, waves joyously at a tall lifeguard.

The lifeguard he's waving at pads over just to see him, obscuring my vision, but I can see him bending down to the child's level, hands gesturing to something which makes the boy erupt into a wild smile.

Only when he stands up straight, tilts his neck to peer up at the clock on the wall and turns around to glance at the café, do I realise it's Grey.

He stares right at me, raising a hand to wave at me silently.

I wave back, feeling my heart pick up speed at the simple sight of him. Grey's lips uptick on one side, and I watch while he utters something to the other lifeguard on duty and then begins to close the gap between the two of us.

"Hi," he breathes, all chlorine and fresh mint, when he sits down opposite me, his long legs accidentally knocking into my knees beneath the small table.

"Hi, yourself."

Grey opens his mouth to speak, but the tea I ordered cuts him off, steam wafting from the spout of the plain, ceramic teapot.

"It's warm in here," I say, lifting the pot with one hand, holding the lid closed with the pointer finger from my other hand, and pouring amber liquid into the cup closest to Grey. "But it's cold and wet outside, so I got tea for the two of us. You don't have to drink it if you don't want, I just needed something to warm me up, so…"

Grey simply stares at me, helping fix both of our drinks with the right amount of milk and sugar.

Behind me a child squeals, followed by the loud sound of splashing water. I glance back to the pool, my eyes tracing the constant rhythm of the moving water buoys separating each swimmer's lane.

"Delilah—"

I look back at Grey, seeing his hand, curled in a relaxed position on the surface. My own hand vibrates to take his, fold our fingers over and feel the pad of his thumb rub over my knuckles the way Grey always does when he holds my hand. My body, my heart, my soul… they're crying out for him. This man in front of me, recognising him as my own, as mine. But I need to know the unfiltered truth first. Grey knows how I tick – the slightly obsessive planning of things, my hard work ethic, why I struggle to open myself up to love.

I know parts of Grey – his family morals, his love, passion , for all things swimming, the big golden heart he wears on his sleeve – but I don't know all of it. Not yet.

"If we're going to work, I need to know everything," I say. "Will you start from the beginning for me?"

Grey's eyes, steady and sure, never leave mine while he nods. "I've loved swimming, being in the water since I can remember. I showed signs of being good enough to compete from a young age, but I didn't really give it much thought until I was a teenager. My mum…" Grey's lids flicker, but he doesn't look down. "My mum developed breast cancer when I was fourteen. It was sudden, unexpected. One minute she was downstairs, making us breakfast, driving us to school, kissing us goodbye even though we squirmed away too afraid our friends would see us and the next she was lying in a hospital bed looking nothing like herself, white as a sheet, hair shorter each time we went to see her. She was ill for almost two years and we we're… we we're lost. Completely. My eldest brother, Noah, he was seventeen when her first lot of chemo began, he helped my dad and took over the role Mum had played. He got his driver's license just so my brothers and I wouldn't have to get the bus to school."

I choke down a too hot mouthful of tea, feeling hot tears prick my water line.

"Grey—"

He shakes his head, his own eyes shiny and I know this is hurting to say aloud. I don't stop to think for another moment before grabbing his hand and squeezing hard.

"She's okay now," he promises, rolling his lips together. "But those years we're hard for each of us in our own way. I threw myself into the water, it was the only place I could quieten my mind. Mum was so proud to see me competing when she was finally placed in remission, and that feeling; that sensation, of winning, making my family proud, holding the medal or trophy cup… it was addicting. So, I pushed even harder. I competed in the butterfly stroke, honing my skill, my body. My success began to be picked up by the British press and when I was nearly twenty one, I was given a chance to compete in the summer Olympics—"

"Why didn't I see that? Your face would have been splashed all over the tabloids, surely—"

"There's an almost five-year age gap between the two of us, Delilah. You would have been sixteen, focused on your exams and…"

My ex hangs in the air between the two of us. At sixteen I would have been buried in a stack of library books, frantically trying to memorise answers to my exam questions, whilst also exploring the beginnings of my relationship with Daniel. Teenage hormones paired with my constant fear of failure had made that chapter of my life whizz by in a flurry of blurry memories.

I swallow, resisting the urge to close my eyes when Grey swipes his thumb across my knuckles sweetly. "Oh."

"Yeah." Grey laughs lowly. "Anyway, I never made it to the Olympics. I got caught in a freak accident before I could get there."

Bile rises in my throat, but I push it back with another swig of tea. I know what happened; my curiosity had gotten the better of me on Monday night and I'd ended up searching up Grey's name again. Before he could get to the Olympics, he'd been caught in a ski lift accident. The British press had turned on him, accusing him of being drunk and high on drugs. It had taken months for the accusations to be nulled and for the hate to die down.

"I'm really fucking sorry, Grey."

He shrugs as if it doesn't matter, but I know that move, I know his dream meant the world to him at one point and it's still a very bitter pill to swallow.

"I tried rehab, ate all the right food, but my ligaments didn't want to cooperate. They weren't strong enough, still aren't. I struggle with the ache sometimes, but warming gel takes the bite away now. I was depressed for months after it happened, and then one day I knew I just had to suck it up. I still loved swimming, so I got my lifeguard safety certificate, learnt how to be a swim teacher, and threw myself into that instead."

My heart physically aches able to feel the tangible loss of Grey's dream. I've reached my dream to work in a publishing house, I'm still pursuing it but I'm the lucky one because not everybody gets that. Even people like Grey who deserve the world.

"I meant every word I wrote in my letter, Delilah," he continues, body less tense than it had been before. "I never meant to keep my past a secret. I'm sorry I did. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I broke your heart and—"

Pushing from my chair, I round the small table, practically falling in Grey's lap, winding my arms around his neck. I breathe him in, his familiar scent in my nose, the feel of him in my arms… it feels like this is exactly where I'm meant to be in life.

"I've missed you."

I don't tell him it's okay because it's not and we both know it. He shouldn't have kept it a secret from me, he shouldn't have taken away my decision to choose us over my hurt. We've got things we need to work through – my trust being the main one. But Grey is here now, fighting for us, spilling his guts to me because he trusts me, he wants an us.

So, do I.

Grey's arms band around my back, his lips pressing a kiss to the juncture of my neck. "I've missed you too, gorgeous."

Unbothered by who could be looking, I softly capture Grey's lips with mine, feeling him smile, dimples popping, uninhibited.

"Are you hungry?" Grey asks. "Do you want to go out and get some food? I clock off in about an hour, so if you don't mind waiting…"

Peering down at myself, I frown at my just average office work attire – pale pink blouse, black pencil skirt, tights, and a pair of black patent heels.

"I'm not very dressed up."

Grey runs his knuckles over my cheekbone. "You look gorgeous, Delilah. We don't have to go if you feel uncomfortable, we could order something in, or there's a pub around the corner. It does the best fish and chips I've ever tasted."

My mouth waters at the thought of digging into a crispy chip, salted to perfection.

"With tartare sauce and a slice of lemon?"

"With tartare sauce and a slice of lemon," Grey confirms with a nod.

"Okay," I agree. "It's a date."