Chapter 19 – I’m Attached
Maya –
As we round the pool from the guest house through a path of cleared snow in the cold December air, I’m not sure what’s louder—the sounds of my heels on the stone patio or my heart pounding in my chest.
“Relax,” Grady says, squeezing my hand as we approach the French doors to the back of my parents’ house.
“Stop telling me to relax,” I clip. “The more you tell me to relax, the more I can’t relax.”
“Okay,” I hear him say with a smile as we walk up the steps. He moves ahead quickly to open the door for me. “So don’t relax. We’ll get through the night either way.”
I turn to look at him, rolling my eyes, before stepping inside the formal living area. Grady trying to relax me in the bathroom made us late, and my mother doesn’t do late unless it’s her. She’s always late to social events—she thinks she’s just that important.
“Well.” I hear her voice the minute we step over the threshold. “We thought you decided not to attend your own homecoming dinner.”
I do what I trained myself to do years ago—change my expression to an impassive one since I know it pisses her off. “We went for a run. And I didn’t know this was a homecoming dinner. We’re leaving tomorrow, so for all it matters, it could be a going away dinner.”
My mother narrows her eyes before turning to a server I’m not familiar with who must be new. “Lidia, make my daughter a cosmopolitan and take his order.”
Of course, she wouldn’t ask what I’d like to drink, but arguing would be exhausting, so I don’t.
“Maya.” I cringe and turn to see Weston heading straight for us with a crystal highball glass in his hand filled with his favorite scotch, but his eyes—angry and hard—are on Grady. Grady’s fingers tense on the small of my back, but other than that, I don’t notice a change in his demeanor whatsoever. Across the room, Weston’s parents are standing with Joe, all of them watching us with bated breath. My father is nowhere to be seen—I’m sure he’s still at work.
“Wes,” Grady greets my ex-fiancé like they’ve been friends for years before I have a chance to say anything. Without letting me go, Grady offers his right hand. “Never thought I’d see you again after our last meeting.”
Weston doesn’t take his hand, and I slip my arm inside Grady’s suit jacket to give him a squeeze. He knows about Weston’s shady side, there’s no reason to antagonize him. We need to get through dinner with as little drama as possible. It’s the only way to handle Weston.
Weston glares at Grady right before his eyes move, and I shift my weight at the way his eyes rake over me. I wonder how I ever found him attractive. Now, he just looks like the slimeball he is.
“You look beautiful,” he says, and pins me with an intense look. “We need to talk.”
I tip my head and sigh. “I didn’t want to talk to you when you came all the way to Virginia. I’m only here to see Joe, so don’t ruin my visit. I have nothing more to say to you.”
He leans in closer and lowers his voice. “I get it. I made a mistake and hurt you. But it’s over. It’s time to fix this—you know we are meant to be together. Give me five minutes alone to explain.”
I lower my voice for only him to hear. “Explain how you were fucking someone else while you were engaged to me?”
“Ma’am, your cosmopolitan.” A drink appears in front of me and I look over to see the server speaking to Grady. “Can I get you something from the bar?”
“I made a mistake,” Weston goes on, ignoring our server.
“Beer,” Grady answers. “Anything’s fine.”
When the server steps away, I take a sip of my drink, but I can’t help if I sound a little sarcastic when I say, “You should move on. You didn’t have trouble doing that while we were together—it should be easy now.” I’ve been so worried about dinner all afternoon, I’m not quite sure where my sudden boldness is coming from, but I even swing my hand out while holding my glass, yet don’t spill a drop as I continue. “Just think, no hiding, no sneaking, you won’t have to juggle two phones, because Lord knows that was difficult, wasn’t it?”
“Enough,” Weston clips and takes my drink out of my hand, setting it on an end table. He didn’t even use a coaster—my mother’s sixth sense will eagle-eye that in no time. He has the nerve to grab my free arm. “I don’t know when you started acting like this, but it probably has something to do with him.” Weston jerks his head toward Grady.
Until now, Grady has remained a calm bystander, allowing my new-found assertiveness to do its thing. But the moment Weston laid a hand on me, that changed.
His body gets tight, his arm around my waist becomes a force of nature as he pulls me to him and out of Weston’s hold. “Keep your hands off her.”
Weston looks straight at Grady and seethes, “She’ll never be yours.”
“We’ll see. That’s up to Maya—but it looks like you need to get it through your thick skull she’ll never be yours.”
Weston’s about to argue further, when I hear his mother say smoothly, “Weston, this isn’t the time or place. Please allow me to welcome Maya properly.”
I’ve always liked Nancy. Even though she’s best friends with my mother, she’s always been genuine, like a real mom who wants the best for her kids, but to get that, her kids don’t have to be the best, like I did.
So when she pulls me into her arms for a warm hug, I let her. “You look lovely, dear. It’s good to have you home.”
“Thank you, and it’s good to see you, too, but we’re leaving tomorrow. I have to get back to work and only came to see Joe.”
“Maya,” Ron MacLachlan greets me, standing beside his wife. He tips his head, but his expression is bland, and that makes me nervous. He raises a brow and says pointedly, “I do hope you’ll rethink your decision and come home for good.”
Nancy grabs my hand and gives me a squeeze. “Please rethink this, Maya. Come home … give things a chance to mend.”
I shake my head and smile, because as much as Weston’s father scares me, I know Nancy loves her son and wants everything for him. But it’s not my fault he turned out to be a lying, cheating, murdering asshole—and I don’t think it’s hers, either. Her husband, on the other hand, I do blame.
“You’re a waitress and a glorified babysitter, Maya. You can leave your jobs at a moment’s notice,” Weston says, shaking his head.
“You’re a waitress?” my mother exclaims.
“Cool, she’s a waitress.” I hear the smile in Joe’s voice. “This is going to be fun.”
Grady corrects them as the server returns with his beer in a frosty glass. “She works in the tasting room of a vineyard and she’s the activities director for seniors. They love her and she’s good at it.”
“It was bad enough she didn’t pursue music in college like she should have.” My mother sighs and flips a hand toward me. “First you insist on physical therapy, and now you’re a waitress. This is embarrassing.”
I’m about to roll my eyes when I hear from behind me, “She’s back.”
I turn around and see my father. As always when he enters a room, his presence demands attention, but his is only on me. He’s just as I’ve known him to be all my life—tall, with dark eyes and hair that’s now peppered with gray, but it only adds to his demeanor, making him even more dapper and refined. He’s dressed the way he always is during the week, in a custom-made suit, fit to perfection.
My father is nothing like my mother. He’s not an asshole, but I wouldn’t enter him into any father of the year contests, either. He built his empire through hard work and long hours. Maintaining his spot on the Fortune 500 is no fluke, but by doing so, he had no time for his family.
He’s not an asshole—just absent. Even if he doesn’t see it that way.
Still, he walks straight through the crowd that has formed around us and comes straight to me. Leaning down to kiss my cheek, he says, “It’s good to see you, sweetheart. You look beautiful. I told everyone not to be worried, you were doing what you thought you needed to do.”
I give him a small smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Clint, talk to your daughter,” my mother starts in. “She’s working as a waitress and doing something at a senior center. It’s time for her to come home.”
My father looks down at me with a smirk. “You were never shy of a hard day’s work. Good for you.”
“Dad, this is Grady Cain. Grady, my father, Clint Augustine,” I introduce them.
My Dad shakes Grady’s hand and doing what he does best, he takes over the situation, but not before glaring at Ron. He’s never liked Weston’s father. “I’m the only one without a drink and I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”
“I’m always hungry,” Grady agrees, and hands me my Cosmo.
Thankful for the evening to move along so we can be done with it, I take Grady’s hand and we move into the formal dining room. But the second I walk up to the table set for nothing less than a five-course meal, I’m stopped in my strappy heels.
“Find your place setting,” my mother directs as she takes her seat at the head of the table.
I feel my blood boil again as I look down at the finest china and crystal. Of course, my name is placed right next to Weston’s, and Grady is across from us. If I didn’t know better, I’d say my mother was still in middle school. If she thought she could pull this off, she’s crazier than I’ve given her credit for.
I step forward, grabbing Weston’s paper tented name, scrolled in calligraphy, and toss it to the other side of the table. When I look up, my mother is scowling. I return her look with a smug one as I turn to Grady. “My mother does a lovely job of welcoming guests into her home. Have a seat.”
I’m surprised Weston has the decency not to argue. Still, he appears to be holding a grudge as he rounds the table to the open chair. We all take our seats—Joe to my left, Grady to my right, and Weston across from us, flanked by his parents.
The minute we sit, the staff flocks, and my napkin is placed in my lap. I’m grateful for Joe—he starts telling our father about the training session with his medical service dog this afternoon, diverting any attention placed on Grady and me for a bit.
We’re served petite crab cakes for an appetizer, lemon garlic orzo soup, and our salad dishes have just been cleared. Until now, the conversation has remained bland, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t last long.
“Grady,” my mother starts, clearing her voice as she demands, “tell us about yourself.”
I tense and look over to Grady, who’s been nothing but relaxed all night. I wish I knew how he did that.
He asks, “What would you like to know?”
“Tell us about your family,” my mother goes on in a tone signifying she doesn’t give a shit about his family.
Grady shrugs. “I have four sisters.”
“And your parents?” my mother probes. “What do they do?”
“My parents are deceased.”
My eyes widen even though I try to control it, doing my best not to look surprised. I’ve never asked about his parents, only his sisters.
My father frowns and picks up his bourbon. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s been a long time,” Grady says.
Not satisfied, my mother keeps going. “What is it that you do?”
I feel Joe kick me under the table before he announces, “I’ve decided to change my major.”
Everyone looks at my brother, surprised, especially my father, and he asks, “Excuse me?”
“Not now, Joseph,” my mother clips. “Grady?”
Grady wipes his mouth before returning his napkin to his lap, and if we weren’t sitting in front of my ex, his parents, and my family, I’d throw myself at him. He ate his entire salad without a peep. I know he ate it to not ruffle my mother’s feathers, but by doing that, he did it for me. I obviously can’t reach over and kiss him at the moment, but if I could, I would.
“I’m a government contractor—specializing in overseas security. I’m fluent in seven languages and even more dialects.”
I try again not to look surprised, because I should know these things about the man I’m sleeping with and who’s had his hand down my pants. Even if we’re only actually sleeping together, the act itself has been incredibly intimate, especially when he was relaxing me.
“Who exactly do you provide security for?” my mother keeps on.
“I’m tired of finance,” Joe continues, as if he was asked. “Sorry, dad. It’s boring.”
“Joseph.” My mother throws him the look from hell.
Grady picks up his water, leaving his mostly full beer to go warm, and takes a drink. “All sorts of organizations. Corporations, foreign dignitaries, Americans traveling abroad. I used to travel exclusively, but I’m home now.”
Grady looks to me when he finishes, his eyes searching my face, though for what, I’m not sure. But he does lift his arm up around my shoulders, settling it against the back of my chair.
He goes on. “It’s hard after traveling for so many years, but I’m getting settled. I think Maya is, too.”
I reach out for him, touching his thigh, hoping to communicate that I am.
Joe, who’s doing his best to redirect the focus of conversation away from us, continues. “I’m thinking about switching to Fermentation Sciences. I want to learn how to make beer without poisoning anyone.”
I look to Joe to see if he’s serious, and I honestly can’t tell. What I’m sure of, is my mother hasn’t heard a word he’s said. She’s too focused on her own agenda.
“Well, don’t get used to it,” my mother spouts. “Maya will eventually tire of spinning her wheels waiting tables and whatever else she’s doing.”
I straighten in my chair and turn to my mother. “I’ll have my Virginia license in a matter of weeks and I have a PT job lined up for the beginning of next year. I don’t plan on tiring of anything and I’m not coming back.”
“But I’ll also learn how to make cheese,” Joe adds. “You know, as a backup career.”
“Come back for a week.” Weston leans forward and speaks to me in a tone that surprises me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he almost sounded desperate. “Give me a week to make things right, Maya. Please.”
“Or, I could do both,” Joe raises his voice, vying for someone’s attention. “I’ll move to Wisconsin and open up a brewery. Beer and cheese curds. It’ll be a fermentation utopia.”
“They’ve been together since she was sixteen,” my mother says, looking straight at Grady. She waves a hand toward Grady and me as she continues. “You can’t give her the life she’s accustomed to. She’ll eventually get bored and come home. Whatever you think this is, you’re wrong. Maya got her feelings hurt, she’s licking her wounds, but eventually she’ll find her way, so don’t get too attached, Grady Cain.”
“Mother!” I exclaim.
“Vanessa,” my father warns from across the length of the table. “Watch yourself.”
My mother tips her head and scowls first at my father, then me. “You can’t be serious about him. You’ve known him, what? Weeks?”
“Months,” Grady corrects her.
“Whatever.” She throws him a dirty look before returning her glare to me. “It’s time to get over it and move on.”
“That’s it,” Grady declares.
Moving his arm from in back of my chair, he narrows his eyes at my mother and reaches in the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Deftly, a small velvet box appears, and quicker than naught, he flips it open with his thumb.
And I lose my breath.
What the hell?
“What is that?” I breathe, barely able to hear myself speak.
Grady says nothing, but reaches across my body for my left hand. He removes the round metal object with a really big, bright, sparkly thing on the top, and tosses the box haphazardly to the table.
I feel my breath quicken, not able to hide my reaction from what’s happening in front of me. I’m pretty sure he’s moving quickly and efficiently, but my brain is functioning in slow motion.
It’s a ring.
Why does he have a ring, and why is it aimed at my hand?
Holy shit, it’s a really beautiful ring.
From somewhere outside of my head, I hear my ex-fiancé growl, “What the fuck?”
But I can’t give that any mind space, because Grady is sliding that beautiful, shiny piece of metal that circles to infinity on my left ring finger. When it slides all the way to the base, miraculously fitting perfectly, his thumb brushes the side of it right when I feel a hand at my face.
When he lifts my chin to look into his eyes, his expression is possessive and hot. When he dips his face, his lips touch mine—demanding and warm. It’s the most perfect kiss he’s ever given me, and there have been plenty.
He pulls away hesitantly, his tongue reaching out to taste me quickly before I open my eyes to find him looking contentedly down at me. “You’ll let me take care of you?”
I exhale, thumbing the underneath side of the ring sitting at the base of my left ring finger. A ring I’m not totally sure the meaning of, but to the rest of the world, I know what it looks like. Even if I don’t know what it means to Grady, there’s nothing more I want at this moment than for him to take care of me.
I nod. Once.
Still, it’s the universal sign of yes.
“Yes?” he confirms aloud.
I nod again, this time adding a throaty, “Yes.”
A look takes over his handsome face. An expression I’ve never seen, but on Grady Cain, it’s the most beautiful thing ever. He leans in to kiss me again, and when he pulls away, wraps his arm around me.
Still stunned and staring down at the ring on my finger, wondering what just happened, I hear Grady say, “As you can see, it’s too late, Vanessa. I’m attached.”
That’s when I hear a crash.
I jerk from the noise and look up to see Weston standing, his chair thrown back with such force, it broke the glass doors of my mother’s built-in china cabinet. Glass is still settling as Weston yells from across the table, “This is not happening. This is not fucking happening!” He points straight at Grady. “This is your fault. You’ll pay for this—I swear.”
With one last vicious glare, he stalks out of the room. His parents stand quickly making multiple apologies before they hurry out after their son.
“I cannot believe this,” my mother seethes at me. “Look what you’ve done!”
I’ve had it.
Pushing my chair back, I stand quickly, and Grady stands with me.
“I hate him.” I point to where Weston left the room. “He cheated on me, he controlled me, and he threatened me. Never again will I allow that to happen. This is why I left when I did. And if it means never stepping foot into your house again to not be put through this, then so be it. I’ll go to the city to see Joe or I’ll bring him to me when he’s okay to travel. But never again will I allow you to do this. I’m done.”
“He threatened you? Why didn’t you tell me?” I turn to look at my father, and it’s clear to see he’s livid from what he just heard, his voice demanding answers. But he’s looking straight at my mother. “Did you know about this?”
“Clint—” she starts, but I interrupt.
“I’ve had enough for tonight.” Looking over at my father and Joe, I add, “Goodnight. I’ll see you both tomorrow before we leave.”
With that, I turn, making my way back through the formal living room and toward the back doors. Grady’s right beside me but doesn’t say a word. Even though he’s not touching me, I know he’s close. If possible, through the cold night, I feel the heat of him at my side.
When we reach the guest house, I’m trembling—but not from the cold—from my adrenaline crashing after the high I just went through. Not only from dealing with my mom and Weston, but from Grady sliding a ring on my finger. Everything—it’s all too much. I fumble with the door, not able to get it unlatched, when Grady’s big, steady hand covers mine and opens it for me.
I move through first and immediately kick my shoes off to the side. When I turn around, I look down at the ring he slid on my finger, needing to know, but afraid to ask.
I don’t even know what I want it to mean. He said he was with me before we even spoke a word to one other, but it hasn’t been that long. It took me almost twelve years to figure out Weston was toxic, and that was before I learned of his dark-side business dealings.
When I look up, Grady has already rid himself of his suit jacket and is pulling his tie off, unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt. He does all this without taking an eye off me—assessing me.
Is it possible to know in a matter of weeks?
Then he does nothing, says nothing. He stands there—half the room separating us—doing nothing.
Finally, I hold up my hand, the one showcasing the supersized, brilliant cut diamond in an exquisite setting, flanked by baguettes running down the band.
“Grady, please,” I call for him, my voice unstable and hoarse. “Tell me what just happened.”