Hmmm. Hmmm. Hmmm.
I catch myself humming as I drive up the hill to Grayson’s house the next morning.
I’m humming.
I’m not humming any song in particular. It’s just…I feel so much lighter. I feel amazing.
Is this what it feels like to be truly independent, to put myself first for a change?
Pulling Ingrid into my usual space at Grayson’s house and walking in…I can’t stop fucking humming.
In the closet where I put away my coat and purse, there’s a white envelope in the same spot where Grayson left the postcard for me.
“Miss Lily Moore” is written across it in perfect calligraphy.
I pick up the letter, going back to the kitchen for a knife. I slowly slide it across the top of the envelope. It would feel awkward opening such a gorgeous envelope with my thumb. Maybe working here is teaching me to appreciate beautiful things and treating them with respect, like how Emilia talked about the silver that I polished.
When I pull out the letter and open it, Grayson’s name is engraved across the top—black ink on ivory paper. There is only one sentence written in his hand:
Thank you for sharing your work with me.
I smile to myself and reread the note.
I just…this is just…
“Thank you so much, dear.”
I jump in surprise, holding the note close to my chest. When I turn around, Emilia’s there, dressed in cashmere sweats and sneakers.
“Oh my God, you scared me! What are you thanking me for?”
“I don’t know what happened when you took Grayson’s lunch to him, but ever since then, his attitude has completely changed. He actually thanked me for something, and then he hugged me. Hugged me. I can’t even remember the last time he did that. And I know you’re the one responsible for the change in him.”
My face heats up from the unexpected praise. “Emilia, I didn’t do anything. Really.”
She waves her hand at me dismissively. “Think whatever you like, my girl. I know the truth.”
I bite my bottom lip. “Do you think he’s busy now? I’d like to tell him something.”
“Of course. Just knock once, and if he doesn’t answer leave him be. I have to go up into the attic to find some documents.”
“I wondered why you were dressed so casually.”
“Cobwebs, my dear. The bane of my existence.”
I laugh at her explanation, taking the route through the French doors at the back of the house to reach his studio instead of the cold tunnel.
I knock once as Emilia instructed, and much to my surprise Grayson opens the door within a minute.
I’m about to speak but Grayson beats me to it. “Good morning, Lily.”
I swallow hard because of his attire—more like his lack of it.
He’s wearing his torn jeans again, the ones he had on when I first knocked on this door. And nothing else.
But now, instead of running off like a frightened little girl like I did that first time, I’m able to take in and appreciate the beauty of his upper body. Every muscle in his chiseled chest and torso is perfectly formed. When he flexes his arms, the corded veins on his forearms stand out against his skin. He is so virile, so present that I have to blink a few times to find my bearings.
Speak slowly. Don’t stammer like an idiot.
I take a deep breath. “Good morning, Grayson. I just wanted to thank you for the note. It was very kind of you.”
A wide smile crosses his face. “I meant it.”
“This seems to be a day for ‘thank you.’”
He cocks his head at me curiously. “Pardon?”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing.” A sudden thought strikes me. “I was thinking it’s such a gorgeous day. It’s not too cold. Why don’t we take a walk in the gardens? I’d love for you—”
His face grows red instantly. “No.”
I pull him by his wrist, yanking as hard as I can. “Come on. You probably need a break anyway, so—”
“I said no!” He growls at me so forcefully that I actually take a step back from the fury in his protest.
I stand stunned, silent, still holding onto his arm. He doesn’t say a word either. Our eyes lock on each other’s. I drop his arm from my grasp.
“I’m sorry I yelled. Forgive me. It’s just…”
My heartbeat turns rapid, waiting for him to continue.
“I’m agoraphobic, Lily. I never go outside.”
My heart breaks at his admission. “How long have you been like this?”
“Ever since I lost my parents. The outside is where they died, and it’s where I’d be judged by my looks.”
I tread carefully. “Have you sought treatment for it? Medicine, therapy?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t see the point. It would be money wasted.”
I slowly reach out to lace his fingers with mine. They are rough and callused, but warm in my grasp. “It wouldn’t be a waste. And I would never judge you.”
When he finally glances up at me, his eyes have softened. “I’m beginning to see that. But I still can’t do it.”
Don’t push him.
I drop his hand and start to walk away, but then stop when I hear him call my name.
I turn to face him. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, his gaze lowered.
My throat catches. “So am I.”
One step forward, two steps back.
Suddenly snowflakes begin to fall from the sky, fluttering all around me. I look up to find heavy, full clouds. I head for the main house, the wet from the snow combining with the tears falling down my face.
I manage to reach the bathroom, grabbing a tissue from a box on the shelf.
Just as I wipe away the last tear, a knock at the door startles me.
“Yes?”
“Lily dear, are you all right?”
I blow my nose as quietly as I can. “Yup. Be right out.”
I splash cold water on my face, taking a deep breath before opening the door.
Emilia’s face falls when she sees me. “Oh no. What did he say now?”
I shake my head. “He didn’t say anything. Really. I was just wiping the snow off my face.”
Her eyebrows rise in suspicion. “Very well. But speaking of snow, I just got an alert on my phone that we’re about to get hit by a blizzard.”
My jaw drops. “What? I thought the snow was going to pass over us and hit New England.”
“Nope. We’re not going to be so lucky. And conditions are going to be treacherous, especially on the road coming up here. Of course you’re more than welcome to stay. And it’ll make ringing in the New Year so much more fun than all of us spending it separately.”
I shake my head. With everything that’s happened with Reed, I’d completely lost track of what day it was.
But still, I can’t spend the night under the same roof as Grayson and risk doing something stupid in front of him again. I’ve already met my daily quota. God knows I’m liable to make more of a fool of myself.
Nope. Not going to happen.
I rush to the closet for my purse and coat. “It’s okay, Emilia. I’ll be fine. I’ll stay longer tomorrow to make up for the work I didn’t get to today. I’d better go now if I’m going to get home safely.”
I’m already heading for the front door, throwing on my coat as I walk away. “I’ll make it,” I call to her over my shoulder. “Don’t worry about me.”
My right hand has just brushed the cold metal of the doorknob when a deep voice rasps behind me, “Don’t go.”
When I turn I see Grayson staring at me, fists clenched, eyes burning.
“You’re going to stay. End of discussion.”
A gust of wind pounds the glass in the front windows. The snow is already falling faster and thicker.
Looks like I’m not going anywhere.
“Okay.”
* * *
Grayson
“Could you open it for me? My hands are kind of tied up at the moment.” Lily gestures with her head toward the jar of spaghetti sauce sitting on the counter.
I rise from my seat at the kitchen table and walk over, opening the jar with one swift move and handing it to her.
“Am I your sous-chef now?” I ask.
She grins at me as she dumps the entire contents of the sauce into the pan. “Yup. Looks like it. You okay with that title?”
“Certainly. I think this is the most time I’ve ever spent in the kitchen.”
I watch her in awe as she nods, still smiling while stirring the sauce to mix it with the browned ground beef.
I couldn’t believe her: the forecast is for three feet of snow with high winds. How could she possibly have thought of leaving with the threat of such dangerous weather?
Because she wanted to get away from me. Because I’d scared her.
But something in my expression must have eased her worry, because she whispered “Okay,” then offered to cook dinner, which completely surprised me. Her kindness left me with a sense of warmth that penetrated my skin, giving me such a high that instead of retreating to my studio, I stayed in the kitchen to be near her.
I followed Lily into the kitchen and watched with a helpless grin as she searched the refrigerator for something to cook for dinner. She came up with a pack of fresh ground beef, a loaf of garlic bread from the freezer, and a box of thin spaghetti and a jar of pasta sauce from the pantry. She did all this while talking to herself in the most beguiling manner. She knew I was in the kitchen, of course, but how she hummed when she searched for the ingredients then gasped with delight when she found them…There was no other place on Earth that I wanted to be at that moment. When I asked her what she was going to make, she replied, “Spagbol,” to which I gave her a look of complete confusion. Judging by the light in her eyes, she was amused by my curiosity. “It’s short for Spaghetti Bolognese. It was a staple in my house when I was growing up. Still is.”
The sound of a glass lid closing over metal jolts me back. “There,” she announces. “All done. Now we just have to let it simmer for fifteen minutes.”
She reaches for a plastic timer on the counter and sets it, then raises her arms as she stretches her back. I can’t help but notice the curves of her body, the outline of her breasts against the fabric of her sweater.
I quickly rise to my feet to shake off the thoughts swirling in my head of what Lily must look like naked. “Wine?” I ask.
“Yes, that would be great, thanks.”
I’m relieved she doesn’t notice how red my face is or the rising bulge in my jeans. I open the fridge, allowing the cool temperature to calm me. I pull out a chilled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, along with two glasses from the cabinet, before returning to the table.
Her face is flushed pink from the heat of the stove, and she watches as I pour the wine. With a wide grin, she accepts the glass from me. “Thank you,” she says, followed by a contented “Ahhh.”
I swiftly sit back down to hide the fact that my pants are growing tented, but then I notice something about her hands as she puts the glass down.
I point to the bare ring finger on her left hand. “You’re not wearing your ring.”
Lily rubs the spot as if to heal a wound. “Yes. I broke up with Reed,” she whispers.
Thank God.
I purse my lips shut at her admission to keep myself from verbalizing my reaction or grinning like a prizewinner. Not that I have any intentions toward her—as if I could ever deserve her—but from the modicum of information I have about him, I’m relieved to know she’s free of him. But then I can’t help my curiosity. “What happened? That is, of course, if you don’t mind me asking since it’s truly none—”
I stop rambling when something warm settles on my left hand.
Lily’s right hand.
“It’s all right. I don’t mind. I just realized we weren’t meant for each other, that deep down we were just too different. I think I needed him for security. To feel like I belonged somewhere with someone. It was just my mom and me for so long after my father left us that I guess I just clung to the first real thing that offered me affection and comfort.”
I nod as she pulls her hand away, already feeling the emptiness of the loss of her touch. “How old were you when your father abandoned you?”
“Five. One day he just decided he didn’t want to be married or be a dad anymore. We haven’t heard from him since.”
“It must’ve been so difficult for you and your mother.”
She sighs. “It was, but my mom is a fighter. She was a stay-at-home mom before he left, and that was all she ever wanted to be. But after he left us she decided to become a nurse, so she took classes while I was at school, and thankfully we have the best neighbors who were always there to babysit me or help out however we needed. My mom got her degree and worked her way up at the hospital, and now she’s the head of the ER nurses at the hospital in Hudson.”
Lily shrugs her shoulders. “So, that’s my story. What about you?”
My eyes pop at her direct question, causing her to cover her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”
“Lily, it’s fine.”
She sits back slightly in her chair, her face red.
“You mean this?” I ask, pointing to the scar on my face.
She nods silently.
“You know about the accident. When I woke up in the hospital, Emilia told me my parents were dead. My face was wrapped in bandages, and I didn’t know why. Then I was told that flying glass caused the scarring. The surgeons did the best they could, but the scars just healed the way they did. After my recovery, I went back to school, but my classmates tormented me constantly, so Emilia pulled me out of there and I was homeschooled from that point on. It’s how I got my college degree from Ashby as well. My parents appointed her my legal guardian in their will, and I don’t know what I would do without her.”
Tears suddenly appear in the corners of Lily’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Grayson.”
I sit up straight in my chair. “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t want your pity. I have my art. That’s all I need.”
Lily shrinks back in her chair, shutting her eyes. “I was just…never mind.”
I watch helplessly as she quickly rises from her chair, the sound of wood scraping against tile echoing in the kitchen.
“The meat sauce should be ready soon,” she mutters to herself as she walks away.
I shut my eyes with regret. That’s the second time she’s tried to be nice to me and I just cut her off.
I get up and slowly approach her. She quietly stirs the sauce, blinking, no doubt, to get rid of the tears.
I gently touch her shoulder. “Lily, I’m sorry.”
She jumps at my touch. “It’s fine.”
The buzz of the timer startles us both. “You should go tell Emilia dinner’s ready,” she suggests, still not looking at me. “Or if you like you could set the table while I rinse the pasta.”
I purse my lips together in frustration. No matter what I do, I always manage to make things worse, causing her pain.
“I’ll take care of all that. I also need to get a bottle of champagne from the cellar to be chill before midnight,” I tell her.
“Fine,” she replies quietly.
I walk away to head upstairs.
* * *
Lily
“That was delicious,” Emilia exclaims with a satisfied sigh.
We all lean back in our chairs at the kitchen table, having just consumed homemade hot fudge sundaes, the ingredients for which we found after scrounging through the pantry and cabinets. “By the way, what was in that spaghetti sauce?” she asks.
I place my index finger over my lips. “Shh. Family secret.”
A deep, throaty chortle erupts next to me.
Emilia and I both look over at Grayson. “Did you just laugh?” she asks him.
He reaches for the napkin in his lap, wiping his mouth. “Yes. Was I not supposed to?”
“No, it’s just…” Emilia seems at a loss for words.
“Geez, that wasn’t even one of my good jokes,” I offer, helping out Emilia. “I’d love to see what happens when I’m really working the room.”
Grayson allows himself a small grin. “Perhaps you will, if you offer something worthy of such a reaction.”
I stare at him, tilting my head curiously at first, then nodding in return. “Challenge accepted, Mr. Shaw.”
We grin at each other helplessly, but the sound of a chair screeching across tile snaps us back to Emilia. Her voice shakes nervously as she addresses us. “I can’t believe it’s almost midnight. Let’s get out the champagne, shall we? I’ll just get the glasses from the dining room.”
Grayson and I exchange a confused glance.
“I’ll go help her,” I tell him and push back from the table, rising hurriedly to my feet before he can reply or stop me.
When I reach Emilia, she is standing at the sideboard holding its edge with both hands.
“The glasses should be in their usual spot,” I quietly offer. “I just polished them last week.”
“I’m sure they’re where they should be,” she whispers.
I step closer to her. “Have I done something wrong? Something to offend you? If I have…”
She shakes her head, turning to face me. “No, dear. It’s nothing like that.”
“I know I’ve only been working here a short time, but I hope you know you can trust me. You can tell me anything,”
Emilia’s face softens at my reply. “I was married twice.”
“I didn’t know that,” I answer.
“Thomas Mitchell was the love of my life. He was the boy next door. Literally. Right here in Cottage Grove. After I left my first husband, I moved back home. Thomas was still there living with his parents. He was a groundskeeper here at the estate and he got me a job as a cook. We were in love, but when I found out I couldn’t have children I tried to break up with him because I knew he wanted a family. But he wouldn’t hear of it, stubborn man. We got married and we were so happy. When Grayson was born, he was like a son to us. Then Thomas had a heart attack, and all I had were the Shaws.”
“But what about your own family? It sounds like you’re not close with them.”
“My parents adored the first man I married because he had money and social status, which was the image my middle-class parents wanted for themselves—their daughter living the idyllic life as the perfect wife to a rich husband. But he was a cruel man who found fault with everything I did. After two years, I knew I couldn’t live a life of lies and I left him. My parents let me move back in with them, but they were always quick to voice their disappointment and remind me of the grave mistake I’d made by leaving him.”
“Sounds familiar,” I mumble to myself.
“Thomas and I had thirty-five years of happiness together. And I want nothing more than Grayson finding that kind of joy for himself.”
I swallow. “I can understand that.”
Emilia reaches out to me, taking my hands in hers. “Lily, like you said, you haven’t been employed here very long, but I can tell that you are a good person with a kind heart. Just from being who you are, you have changed Grayson. He’s gradually coming out of the shell he’s used as an excuse to hide away from the rest of the world. My worry is that if you leave he’ll close himself off for good and never come out again. I mean, he laughed at the table just now. Laughed. I can’t even recall the last time that’s happened.”
I notice tears forming in Emilia’s eyes. I gently squeeze her hands. “Stop. Please. I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I need this job. And I know how important Grayson is to you—”
“You call him Grayson now,” she interrupts.
“Yes.”
She rubs her right thumb over the empty ring finger on my left hand. “And I notice you’re not wearing your engagement ring anymore.”
“Let’s just say my former fiancé and your first husband share many common traits.”
She nods in understanding. “Then what you did was for the best.”
“Yes, but I didn’t break with him because of Grayson. I did it for myself, because Reed and I weren’t meant to be together.”
She pauses a moment. “You do care for Grayson, don’t you?”
I pause before I reply, finally addressing the truth that I’ve been too afraid to accept. “Yes,” I whisper.
Emilia smiles warmly as a throat clears loudly behind us.
We turn to find Grayson standing in the doorway, holding a bottle of champagne. “I’m not drinking this by myself, am I?”
Emilia and I shake our heads. “No, you’re not,” Emilia replies. She drops her hands from mine, walking over to the tall cabinet where the crystal glassware is kept. Wiping her eyes, she carefully pulls out three glasses and hands one to me.
The pop of a champagne cork startles us both. I quickly offer one to Grayson to catch the overflow of liquid erupting from the bottle, followed by the two flutes Emilia is holding.
At that moment, the grandfather clock in the foyer starts to chime.
“Happy New Year!” we exclaim simultaneously, clinking our glasses together.
After taking our sips, Emilia embraces me with a kiss on the cheek, then does the same with Grayson.
And then, it’s my turn with Grayson.
He leans down to hug me. I breathe in his clean, masculine scent as his mouth brushes my cheek, his stubble grazing my skin.
“Happy New Year, Lily,” he rasps into my ear.
His warm breath tickles my neck. My heartbeat races as I hold tightly onto his arms, the corded veins in his forearms stretching the sleeves of his cuffed shirt.
My throat goes dry, heady from the sensations of his body, his scent, his warmth, his voice. “Happy New Year, Grayson,” I manage to reply.
Stepping back from him I take a long sip of champagne, acknowledging Grayson’s heated eyes and Emilia’s contented grin.
This is too much. I don’t…I can’t…
My head starts to spin. “I…I should go do the dishes.”
Emilia’s soft hand lands on my shoulder, and she gently takes my glass from my hand. “Why don’t we retire for the evening? It’s been a long day. The dishes can wait, my dear. The bed in the blue guest room is all made up for you. Turn right at the top of the stairs. It’s the last room on the left.”
“Oh, I thought I’d just make up one of the sofas in the living room because I’m not allowed—”
“I trust you, Lily.” The determined tone in Grayson’s voice shifts my eyes to his face. His jaw is clenched, his gaze narrowed on me.
“Thank you both. Good night.”
Sleep. Oh, God. Yes, please.