Chapter Twenty-Five
Christian
I woke up feeling pleasantly warm and relaxed, with a heavy weight on my chest. When I opened my eyes, I saw that it was Gretchen, who had apparently fallen asleep with her head pillowed on my chest, her arm curled possessively around my torso.
It was the first time I had ever woken up in bed with a woman. Let alone in another woman's bed.
I frowned down at her and considered moving, but I honestly liked being here, like this. She was the first woman who I hadn't felt the need to kick out of bed, and even now, early in the morning, when I knew I should probably be slipping away before she opened her eyes, I couldn't bring myself to move.
The thing is, I knew better. I knew that if she woke up with me, she was probably going to start getting attached, but I was already a bit attached to her. The more I thought about it, the more going back to New York was going to hurt. Of course, it was something that I had to do; there was no getting around that.
Before I could even complete that train of thought, Gretchen was stirring against me, peering blearily up at me. “Good morning,” she said, her words a bit slurred with sleepiness.
I couldn't help smiling down at her. “Good morning,” I rumbled.
“And Merry Christmas,” she said. She yawned, belatedly covering the movement with her hand. “Sorry,” she said.
I laughed a little. “That's okay,” I told her. “How are you feeling?”
“Hungry,” she said immediately. Then, she looked a bit embarrassed.
“Me too,” I said before she could second-guess herself. “How about we get some breakfast?”
Gretchen peered over at the clock on her bedside table and looked surprised when she read the numbers. “It's already ten!” she said in surprise. “I haven't slept that late in forever.”
“So, brunch, then,” I amended, grinning down at her.
“Brunch,” Gretchen agreed, shaking her head. “Wow.”
“You slept well, then?” I asked.
“Yeah, really well,” she said rolling away from me and stretching, the move reminiscent of the one that she had performed on the beach after we'd had sex.
I couldn't help coloring and shifting a little, feeling my morning wood stirring. But Gretchen was laughing and rolling out of bed. “Oh no,” she said, shaking her head. “We're already late enough that we're in danger of having to wait forever in line for a spot at a brunch place. And anyway, I need to Skype with my parents at some point before it gets too late in the day. They're a few hours ahead, remember?
“Yeah.” I sighed, rolling out of the other side of the bed. I looked around for my clothes.
“Pretty sure all your clothes, and maybe my panties, are downstairs. Last night was so incredible.” She blushed, stealing my heart.
“It was perfect. You were perfect,” I said succinctly.
She ducked her head shyly. “You were too.”
“How about this?” I suggested. “You must have something in this house that could be cooked for breakfast. Why don't I make us breakfast?”
Gretchen rolled her eyes. “Like you know how to cook,” she said, a teasing note in her voice. “You probably have someone come in to cook all of your meals back home.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I've always enjoyed cooking,” I admitted. “It's a little less fun when you're just cooking for yourself, but it’s a necessity, right?”
“The mysterious talents of Christian Wall,” Gretchen said, shaking her head. “Why don't we whip something up together? If you can make some eggs, I'll heat up some pre-cooked hash browns that I batch-cook, and then I'll make some fruit and yogurt parfaits.”
I grinned at her, liking the idea of us being there in the kitchen together, working in tandem. “That sounds like a great idea,” I said. “And I can cook eggs.”
“Can you poach them?” Gretchen asked. “Because that's the only way that I eat eggs.”
I blinked over at her and then frowned. “I can try,” I said. “I'm sure there's a how-to video out there somewhere on the internet. Usually, I just fry mine or, sometimes, scramble them.”
Gretchen burst out laughing. “I'm just kidding,” she said. “Anything sunnyside up to over medium is fine. I'd take them hardboiled if that's what you wanted to do.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Minx,” I told her, pulling her into my arms and kissing her, trying to ignore how much that simple action turned me on.
“Come on,” she said, leading me toward the stairs. “I'm hungry.”
After a mutually-cooked breakfast, which was surprisingly filling and tasty, we decided to go for a walk on the beach. It was my suggestion; I knew that I needed to tell Gretchen that I was looking at flights home. I'd reached the decision at some point the previous night, or maybe that morning, when I'd woken up with her head pillowed on my chest. It wasn't fair to keep it from her.
Still, having reached the resolve that I needed to tell her and telling her were two entirely different things.
“I can't imagine living someplace where there wasn't a beach.” Gretchen sighed, shaking her head. “I've just always lived within walking distance of the beach. It's where I do most of my deepest thinking.”
“It's nice,” I agreed. I paused. “New York doesn't have a beach. Not like this.” I didn't know why I said it. It wasn't as though I was trying to ask her to come back with me. I was about to tell her that I was leaving. The whole thing was just hideously out of place.
“Yeah, I know,” she said softly. She shook her head. “Honestly, I wouldn't match the pace of New York anyway.”
“I know,” I told her. Because that was truth. I bit my lower lip, wondering if she knew exactly what I was trying to say, without my even having to say it.
I took a deep breath, preparing to let it out. It was like ripping off a Band-Aid. Before I could get the words out, someone called from behind us.
“Chris! Christian!”
I spun around, wondering if someone from the paparazzi had finally caught up with me or something. I knew they were interested in this Hawaiian girl who I was spending all my time with, or maybe they were wondering what I was planning to do with my Christmas. Maybe they were looking to share some photos with their customers, as some cheesy Christmas special, which had happened before more times than I could count.
But when I turned around, I stopped short, staring back at the guy running across the sand toward us. He came to a stop near us, and I knew him. I recognized him.
I stared at him for a long moment, and he stared back at me, unwavering no matter how many times I blinked my eyes. “Jeff?” I finally asked.
My brother nodded at me, looking unhappy to see me. “What are you doing here?” he asked, as though he might somehow have more right to be here than I did. “Last thing anyone heard, you had fucked off your business for a few months, but did you have to pick the same place as me for your annual vacation? I've been coming here for years now.”
I shook my head. “I didn't know that,” I admitted. “I've been here for a month or so now.” I nudged Gretchen forward. “This is Gretchen; she's-”
“Another of your fuck toys,” Jeff surmised, without even letting me say otherwise. “God, I can't even believe you, parading around the globe with these girls like-”
“That's not what this is,” I interrupted before Gretchen had to hear more about this. She was already moving further away from me, and even though there was only probably a foot between us, it felt like an uncrossable distance in so many ways.
“So, what is it?” Jeff asked, a sneer on his face.
“I've been…” I trailed off, wondering how even to word things. I'd been what? Gretchen and I had never talked about what we were to one another, and with me going off to New York in a couple of weeks at the most, we were never going to be anything to one another.
I blushed brilliantly and ducked my head, like a schoolboy caught in some lewd act.
“That's what I thought,” Jeff said, taking that as some admission of guilt. “God, Christian, couldn't you for once grow up and be the responsible adult that you're supposed to be by this point? We're all waiting for that day.” Then, he shook his head. “Not that that day is ever going to happen.”
He spun away from us before I could respond, stalking off down the beach. For a moment, I was struck by the urge to go after him, to make him listen to me. To make him understand who Gretchen was to me.
But I was still so shocked by the whole thing, by the fact that I had run into Jeff here, after carefully avoiding him for so many years.
“Who was that?” Gretchen asked cautiously, and I couldn't help but grimace, suddenly remembering that she was there, that she had seen all of this awkwardness.
“That was my brother,” I admitted.
“I thought you didn't have any family left,” Gretchen said, her voice tight. When I looked down at her, her face looked tight, as well it might; she was probably wondering how many things I had lied about over the past few years.
“We're not close,” I finally managed.
“But he still exists,” Gretchen snapped.
“Yeah,” I admitted. I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. That day had started so good, not when I considered the fact that I had been planning to tell her all about my plans to disappear to New York sooner rather than later, but other than that, it was good.
Gretchen reached up and yanked off the new necklace that I'd given her, throwing it down in the sand. I felt a stab of pain and tried desperately to think of something I could say to her.
“Gretchen, please,” I said, my voice filled with raw emotion. “There's a lot of unhappy feelings there. We haven't talked in years, and if I’m being honest, I'm not a good guy. If you've read anything about me, you must know that. You know the kinds of things that I've gotten up to. And the thing with my brother is that we weren't really close as kids,” I admitted. “But through college, with both of us going to schools in different states, we got a lot closer. He always supported me, when I was only dreaming of going into real estate. Once I made my money, I…” I trailed off. “I'm not a good person.”
“What did you do?” Gretchen asked.
I was silent for a long moment. “I was an absolute dick to him, I guess,” I admitted. “Gretchen, I'm not a good guy.”
Gretchen leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed me softly, chastely. “Stop saying that,” she said quietly, urgently. “Stop saying that you're not a good person. You might not be the best guy I’ve ever met, but I don't think you're a bad guy. You maybe did some things that weren't so good, but I don't think you're a bad guy, under all of that. Misguided, maybe, but not bad.”
I spun away from her, shaking my head. “You don't know-” I started to say.
But Gretchen spun with me, catching my arms in firm hands. “Yes, I do,” she said sincerely, looking up into my eyes. “Christian, do you think that I'd be here if I didn't think that you were a good guy?” she asked.
“I don't know!” I exploded.
Gretchen's finger came up to seal my lips, though. “Yes, you do,” she said softly. “And you know it, deep down. Maybe you didn't treat your brother the best. But that doesn't mean that you aren't a good guy. And he'd know that if he got to know you again.”
“He'd hate me,” I protested, shaking my head.
“I don't think anyone could hate you,” Gretchen said sincerely. I looked down into her serious eyes and had to at least consider that maybe she was right.