I lay awake at eleven. Not because I’m waiting for twelve o’clock to strike, signaling Christmas, but because I simply can’t sleep. What happened a few hours ago can’t stop repeating itself in my head. It was a total shock, leaving me more confused than I’ve ever been, and I have a hell of a lot of questions. Ones that were answered by Grey. I would have pushed and pushed, because I deserved to know why he didn’t tell me his mother was in a goddamn mental facility.
Apparently, she left without anyone knowing. When I asked Grey if he didn’t find it odd that his mother, who was under lock and key, was here, he said he thought they let her out just for the holidays. But apparently, they don’t do that. Her disorder is particularly very effective because of her husband’s passing, which makes sense. Traumatic events make those with a mental disorder lose all kinds of control, and time warps them back to that unfortunate event.
And when I asked Grey if he felt bad for calling the facility and getting someone to take her back, he told me an answer I was expecting but was naïvely wishing he wouldn’t say—no. He said that she’s a danger to herself and, more so, to us.
I don’t think I have ever felt worse. If I had known, I like to think I could have talked him out of doing it. To think about how horrible she must be feeling as well. But I know even that wouldn’t deter him. His mother is just one of his demons I can never banish or make him see the good in.
As I lay here in the dark, swallowed in silence save for his light snores, I wonder if I changed him at all. For the better, I mean. He didn’t hesitate in calling the facility. And he didn’t hesitate when going after that man and beating him up, only for him to come back for revenge. Maybe he’s just always going to be like this. Forever tormented by his past, never able to move on to a better, brighter future.
Letting out an exhausted sigh, unable to get even a minute of sleep, I push the comforters off of my body and stand. I glance at Grey, watch his bare, muscular back shift up and down, then pad into the kitchen. I make a cup of jasmine tea and curl into the couch facing the TV. I don’t turn it on. I just sit in the dark, save for the Christmas lights shining on the tree.
I stare at the presents that sit under it and try my best to push this unsettling feeling in my chest down. Because I know I’ve changed, and I know it’s definitely for the worst. And I don’t think I should even be here right now, because I am no better than him.
***
“Hey, wake up, Liv. Get up.” A soft whisper and even softer kisses makes me shift in place. I try swatting away whatever is trying to wake me and hear laughter. Deep laughter that makes my stomach flutter.
I peek one eye open. Grey is kneeling beside me, his face a bare inch from mine. He has a warm smile and dimples popped into place, and it takes me a while to understand what’s happening.
“Christmas,” I mumble with a smile as I yawn, stretching my arms out and accidentally pushing his face away. He chuckles, eyes pinched closed. He gently pulls me up and makes me stand. I wobble, still exhausted but energetic in spirit.
I let him pull me to the tree and yawn as I sit in a crisscross position on the floor. “What time is it?”
“Christmas time,” he answers.
I glare at him. “You know what I mean.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He turns to the gifts and hands me a large rectangular one. It’s horribly wrapped, but at least he tried. I laugh, and his cheeks flush. I cautiously take the bow off and place it on the ground beside me.
“This was always my favorite part,” he says, and I stop to look at him. His eyes are dark and his smile light as I lean over and peck his lips and rub his back.
“I know,” I mumble into his neck, and he hugs me back briefly before pushing me back and staring at the present. I laugh and nod frantically. “Okay, okay—I’m opening it.” I love how excited he is; it’s adorable.
He watches me with hawk eyes as I peel off the wrapper and come face to face with the back of a large picture frame. “Flip it over, genius,” he says impatiently.
“I was going to! Geez, calm down.” I finally flip it over and furrow my brows. It’s a painting of a gray penguin that says my name in the middle of its stomach.
He rubs the back of his neck. “I know how much you like penguins, actually I guessed, and it’s gray because, um, me. And, yeah—it’s horrible, I’m sorry.” He rubs harder; I think he’s going to take his skin off. “I spent two days to make it all nice and—wow, I’m such a fucking idiot. I’ll get rid of it for you.” He reaches for it.
“Stop it.” I smack his hand away and clutch it to my chest. “I love it, and I’m being serious. It’s perfect, Grey. Thank you.”
The pink in his cheeks doesn’t fade as he grumbles under his breath and tugs at the waist of my pajama pants. “You’re welcome.”
I set the painting down and hand him one of mine to him to ease the tension. “Here. Open mine.” I, too, am nervous. But I think what I got him will make him very happy. Or at least, I hope it does. For it being last minute, I hope it’s something he’d want or even use.
I watch as he bounces his eyebrows while tearing the paper off haphazardly. I laugh because he looks like an over-excited child but a cute one. An ultra-cute one. When he finally gets to the actual box, he tears it open, stares at it, gasps a long gasp, then looks back at me…and gasps again. He pulls the object out and practically chokes me in a tight hug.
“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he says over and over, and I laugh as he pulls back. He holds up the ridiculously expensive fighter gloves. He looks at me with the cutest smile. “You are…the best. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it. You…do like it, right?”
He scoffs and regards the gloves with a soft sigh. “Of course I do. Oh, the people I can knock out with these.” He presses the shiny leather to his cheek and sucks in a deep breath, eyes pinched closed.
“Okay, I get it.” I laugh, and he pops his eyes open. “My turn.” I smile bigger and rub my hands, eyeing another, smaller box, beside his leg. I begin to reach for it, but he literally smacks my hand away. I sit back, frowning. “Why did you—”
“I have to open my other one. Rude.”
Okay?
He picks up his other, larger present, tears off the wrapping paper, and rips open the cardboard box. His smile drops, and he cocks his head to the side. “You are…” He reaches a hand in and touches it, a smile slowly forming on his face. I blush profusely as he pulls the jacket from the box. He holds it up and laughs as he looks at it from front to back.
“If you don’t like it, I can get you something else. Maybe, I don’t know…socks?” I choke and anxiously play with his charm on my wrist. His eyes take in the rich leather with fascination.
He laughs again and brings the leather jacket to his chest, baring a wide grin. “It’s fucking awesome. This is fucking awesome.” He taps the engraved letter “G” on the upper left side. “I love it, babe. Thank you.” He leans over and pecks my lips.
“You’re welcome.” My eyes shift to the little wrapped present Helen handed to me before she was taken away. “But you have one more.” He looks confused until I reach behind him, grab the gift, and sit back, placing it on his lap. “It’s from your mother.”
“Then I am done,” he says with a wide smile that drips with sarcasm, putting it to the side.
I groan and put it back in his lap. “Open it, Grey…please,” I beg and jut out my bottom lip.
He rolls his eyes and grumbles as he peels away the wrapping. “Necesitas dejar de ser tan maldita adorable todo el maldito tiempo.” (You need to stop being so goddamn adorable all the damn time.)
When he pops open the cardboard box, he stares with an empty expression. His brows are scrunched together, his lips turned down in a deep frown.
“What is it?” I ask him and try to peer over, but he lifts his gaze. Stunned by the amount of emotions swimming in his eyes, I slowly sit back. “Grey, what’s wrong?” Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad, right?
He answers me by reaching in the box and plucking out a golden frame. I don’t understand what has him so tongue-tied until he flips it around. I squint my eyes and scoot closer. I barely hold in my gasp as I take the frame from him.
A small little pair of black eyes stare at me from an even smaller Grey. It’s the photoshoot Helen was talking about, the one where Grey was so hesitant to take part of. A small smile warms up until I’m grinning from ear to ear. His lips are twisted into an upset snarl as he crosses his arms, glaring into the camera while his parents hold onto him from behind, smiling widely into the camera.
“Oh my God,” I say, tearing up. I look into his eyes, present Grey. “You were so…cute.” I draw out the word.
He groans and blushes, looking away. I laugh as he rolls his eyes and rubs the back of his neck, trying to keep up his status with being “cool.” It makes me laugh out loud, so much that my stomach begins to cramp up.
“Shut up,” he mumbles.
I laugh harder.
Fed up with me, he rips the photo out of my hands and shoves it back in the box before flinging it on the couch.
“Forget you ever saw that,” he demands.
“Never,” I say and reach over to pinch his chubby cheeks.
“Fuck off,” he curses, slapping my hand away with an annoyed huff.
I laugh some more and wipe away tears. I’m so going to take a picture of that and save it as my phone background.
“Okay, okay, now can I open my other gift?” I make grabby hands at the small box next to him.
“Oh, okay, you greedy minx.” He hands me the present, and I feel my heart leap as I take it and peel the paper off. I gasp and feel my heart stop. “No…no…no!” It’s a signed first edition copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. “But this must have cost, like, five hundred dollars! At least! How did you—”
“There’s more to it,” he cuts me off. “Open to the first page.” His tone is more serious; it makes a chill run down my spine. But I do as told.
In his writing in black sharpie is:
There is no place I’d rather be than in the Grey with you…Love, G xx
“Oh,” I gasp, tears bubbling in my eyes. “That’s so—”
“Shhh.” He presses a finger to my lips and whispers, “Open the page where the bookmark is.” He holds up a long string somewhere in the middle of the book.
I hold the string and prop open the book to the pages. Attached to the string is…is a…a key. I can feel my heart behind my tongue and hear each beat. Thump, thump, thump! A question forms behind my heart, behind my throat, and burns in my soul.
“What…is this?” My voice is creaky, wary.
“Liv, will you move in with me?” he asks, and I try but fail to blink back tears. They form in massive drops and trail down my cheek. He must take my silence and tears as a no and clears his throat. “You…you don’t have to, if you don’t—”
I launch forward and smash my lips onto his. I straddle his lap and hold his face in place, as if he could melt and dissipate through my fingers. I hold him steady, and I kiss him fiercely, giving him everything I have in me. His large hands grip my waist, and I grip his hair. I pull him forward, wanting more. And he gives it, deepening the kiss, and kissing me back with so much passion, so much fire…I feel sweat slick against my bare thighs and my cheeks, as if we were by a fireplace.
He pulls back and rests his forehead on mine. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I nod and grin. “In all the languages I know,” I whisper. “Yes. Si. Oui. Ja. Hai—”
“Hiiii,” he jokes, and I laugh a whole-hearted laugh and lean forward.
“Hi.” I feel him smile against my lips. I can’t take it anymore, but then it kicks in that I’m going to be living with him. I’ve only known him for a few months, and I’m moving in with him. I should be nervous, scared, in my head—but I don’t have the heart to be any of those things. All I can feel is excited, ready, and happy. “How did you arrange this?”
“Remember Paige?” My chest burns at the mention of that woman and the rage I felt coursing through me that night.
“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth.
He notices my aggression and laughs. “She’s the wife of the owner of the building. She helped me with the paperwork and everything to have you here officially,” he explains. “That’s why I couldn’t explain what she was doing here without giving it away.”
“I was so mad at you!” I smack his chest, and he laughs again; I barely hold back a smile.
“I know, but it was worth it. Was it not?” He rubs my lower back.
I shrug. “Guess so.” He quirks a smile, and I turn to slump against his chest. He automatically wraps his arms around me and hums, letting out a sigh. I let out the same sigh, and he kisses my hair. “So we’re really doing this?”
“Moving in?” he inquires.
“Yeah.” I nod.
“Yeah,” he confirms, and I am relieved. I feel like I’m dreaming. I crane my head back and just look at him. No talking, no moving—I just look at him. This will be the first thing I see every day when I wake up. This will be the face I see when making love. This will be the face that I see when I get in from classes. And hopefully, one day, this will be the face I see fifty years in the future, smiling at me as we look back on the good ol’ days.
I know I sound crazy for thinking like this…but it is truly what I desire. And, judging by this big step from him…I believe it is achievable. At least, I hope it is.