Grayson's Vow (68)

“Hawthorn now, isn’t it?” Shane gave me an open, boyish smile and took my hand in his.

I glanced at Grayson, whose expression was still shuttered. I remembered this version of my husband. It was the one I didn’t prefer. “Um, right. Hawthorn. Well, yes.” I cleared my throat. “I keep forgetting,” I murmured.

“That’s understandable. It’s still new, right?” Shane said.

“Right…” I whispered. New and…over soon.

The tall, striking blond smiled warmly at me and stepped forward, grasping my hand in both of hers once I’d let go of Shane’s. God, she really was gorgeous—Grace Kelly’s even more beautiful sister.

Shane looked at Grayson. “When Charlotte told us the news, you can imagine our shock. But we hoped it meant—”

“That you’d be welcome in my home?” Grayson asked icily. “You were wrong. You can turn around and leave again.”

“Gray!” Charlotte scolded. “They came all this way to see you and to meet Kira.”

“You manipulated this, Charlotte,” Grayson said, his livid stare resting on her.

“Grayson,” I whispered, feeling awkward in the middle of this frigid family reunion. “Maybe I should…”

He swung his eyes to me, pausing momentarily. “I won,” he said, and for a minute I had no earthly idea what he was referring to. Then I realized he was talking about our race down the banister. I would have argued with him—for he certainly had not—but I thought what he really might mean is that I had no choice but to stay in the house now if we weren’t going to raise suspicion with his brother and sister-in-law—his ex-girlfriend, nearly fiancée. Good Lord. That was if he was going to allow them to stay. And if he was going to make it look as if we had a real marriage. My heart was beating a mile a minute and I had this instinct to bolt. Instead, I just nodded.

Walter cleared his throat. “I believe I’ll excuse myself.” Can I come with you?

“I’ll just”—I nodded toward my suitcase and Grayson’s overnight bag still sitting by the door—“take these upstairs and let you all talk.” I felt severely self-conscious and on display as I moved to pick up the bags. The foyer went utterly silent except for the sound of my clacking shoes. My face felt hot as I turned at the foot of the stairs. “So I’ll just, then”—I cleared my throat—“see you at dinner.” I looked around, but Grayson wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at Vanessa with an expression on his face I’d never seen before. He didn’t answer, didn’t even tear his eyes from Vanessa long enough to acknowledge me. My stomach cramped.

I heard Sugar Pie’s nails clicking on the stone floor and she appeared around the corner, halting, her eyes moving between us. She gave a small chuff and dropped her head. “Here, Sugar,” I said quietly and she trotted toward me.

“Nice to meet you, Kira,” Shane said, giving me a sympathetic look. Did Grayson still love Vanessa? Charlotte nodded at me, wringing her hands at her stomach. Why had she pushed me toward Grayson if that was the case? Vanessa gave me a small half smile, her eyes darting to Grayson and quickly back to me, her cheeks pink. She loves him too? Oh God. It was all too much. I didn’t want to be in the middle of this. You’re not, Kira. You’re a temporary distraction, nothing more.

I turned and hurried up the staircase and into the room I’d stayed in when I was sick, Sugar Pie on my heels. I tossed my suitcase and Grayson’s bag down and leaned against the closed door long enough to catch my breath.

What was wrong with me? A few kisses, a few personal revelations, and you thought Grayson was, what? Your friend? Your true husband? I felt like a total fool. The way he had looked at that woman downstairs was…not how he had ever looked at me. She was married to his brother… It wasn’t like he could ever have her again. But God, just the fact that he still wanted her hurt. And I hate it. Hate it.

I stood up straight. This situation can still be salvaged. Thank goodness I hadn’t given myself to him completely. Things were fine. I was fine. So we’d shared a few personal moments. Now we’d go back to the original plan, which was a much better idea anyway. How I’d let myself veer so far off track, I had no idea.

There was a sudden knock at the door and I startled, stepping away from it and turning around. I pulled it open to find Vanessa standing before me. “May I come in?” she asked on a shy smile.

I swallowed but returned her smile and gestured for her to enter. “I’m just showering in here,” I lied. “The shower in the master bath is broken.”

Vanessa sighed. “God, what isn’t? It looks so different around here…” She trailed off, the look on her face saying it all—she didn’t mean “different” in a positive way.

Sugar Pie came over and sniffed at Vanessa’s feet. Vanessa stepped away, beginning to bend down to offer Sugar Pie her hand, but then withdrawing it quickly when she got a good look at the dog’s face. “Oh, she’s…is she—?”

“Her name is Sugar Pie,” I said, scooping her up and depositing her on the chair to the right of the bed and giving her a few pets before walking back to Vanessa.

She took a seat on the vanity bench and crossed her shapely legs. I sat down on the storage trunk at the foot of the large bed. Vanessa was wearing a short, flirty pink skirt and a pale gray, silky tank top that showed off her summer tan. There were several strands of beads knotted between her breasts. She slid her fingers down them in a nervous gesture as she studied me. I was tempted to make a funny face but held myself back.