Goodbye caution, p.32
Goodbye Caution, page 32
“Have you ever gotten into quilting?” I don’t want to lose her now.
“Well, I’d love too. I did try once, but I didn’t stick with it. I’m not that great at sewing. Hazel tries to teach me, but by the time we get to it again, I’ve already forgotten what I had learned. I love quilts, though. They’re so beautiful.”
“Would you like to take quilting classes?” Mental notebook, ready for ideas.
“Yes. Eventually, I think I would. I’d like to make Morgan a wedding quilt for her hope chest.” She glances over at our daughter.
“Well, does this book go back in time?”
“Um, not sure.” She looks at the back. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Becca?”
“Yes?” She looks up just as the plane starts picking up speed on the runway. I watch her turn her head to glance out the window. A small smile appears across her lips as we ascend. She closes her eyes. She’s remembering. It does still interest her! Mental note with several exclamation points! After a few minutes, we level out in the sky. She opens her eyes and wipes the corners of them. Why is she crying?
“Grandpa, Mom?” Morgan asks.
“Yes. Grandpa.” She smiles. I sit back hard. Flying to her is like playing the piano to me. Her father ... my mother ... our favorite childhood memories. She looks down at her book. Morgan puts her iPod earbuds in.
“Becca?”
“Yes?” She looks up.
“Why are you sitting away from me?” I unbuckle, scoot forward in my chair, and put my hands out for her to hold.
“I don’t know. I just sat here. I’m across from you—it’s no big deal.” She ignores my hands and goes back to her book. I rub my face in frustration and get up to sit next to her.
“Becca?” I start again.
“What?” she snaps. I take in another deep breath.
“Why did you cry earlier ... in bed?” I whisper, just in case. “Did I hurt you?” I kiss her shoulder.
“Yes.” She starts reading again. I take the book from her. “What, Grayson?” she asks, a thick layer of irritation in her voice.
“Becca, you were fine afterward. You didn’t tell me it hurt.”
“Do you know why I turned my head?”
“Because it was intense.” Usual reason.
“No! Because you—” She’s starting to cry again. She takes a deep breath. I glance up at Morgan to see if she’s watching us, but she isn’t. “You were looking at me with such disgust and hatred. I could almost tell what you were thinking. And then you confirmed it outside. You have never looked at me like that. Not in bed, at least, and certainly not while you were ... well, you know. Now, can I have my book back? I would like to escape from my reality, please,” she says through her tears.
“What? Escape? You are not a prisoner, Becca! You can leave anytime you want too!” I slap the book into her lap.
“That’s not what I meant! Damn it, Grayson!” she yells, then gets up and heads to the bathroom.
“Daddy, please go after her.” Morgan nudges me.
“Ugh, bloody hell!” I get up and bang on the door. “Becca, open up! Don’t make me break the door in!” I yell. She unlocks it. Wow, that was easy. She’s sitting on the toilet cover, crying into her hands. I stop inside and lock the door, then pull her up to me. I don’t want to argue. I don’t want to talk about feelings. I just want to kiss her. I just want to be lost in her. I move her fallen hair off of her neck and slowly kiss her there, savoring her taste. “Lift your arms up, sweetheart,” I command. I want to pull off her shirt.
“No, I don’t want to do this.” She matches my calm.
“Arms up, Becca,” I say again, and run my hands under her shirt. I unhook her bra and fill my hands with her. I gently roll and tug at her nipples as I bring my mouth over to her face.
“I said no, Grayson. I don’t want to.” She tries to push my hands off. “Stop it!” She shoves my shoulder as I lift her by her bum and press her against the wall. I go to kiss her, but she puts her hands up, blocking my face. I let her back down. She fixes herself. I want to ask her if it’s over between us. That’s what it feels like right now. But I’m afraid.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” It’s all I can say.
“Maybe you should just have that tattooed on your forehead so you don’t have to say it so much!” she snaps.
“Good idea. Should I get that in black ... or blue?” I try to get something out of her.
“How about green?” she suggests sarcastically.
“Green it is!” I smile. She doesn’t bite. I open the door and wave toward it. “After you.” She shoves past me.
“All better now?” Morgan looks up.
“No, little sweetheart. I’ve pretty much made a mess of things today. Maybe Mommy will go to sleep tonight and miraculously forget how much she hates me right now when she wakes up tomorrow,” I say with sincere hope.
“Mommy loves you. Stop it.” She slaps my leg. I glance at Becca for some indication of this. Nothing. Ugh, it’s going to be a long flight. I turn the TV on to do something other than stare at Becca.
“Gray ... Morgan ... wake up.” I hear Becca’s voice and feel a slap on my knee.
I open my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. We’re here. I didn’t want you guys to get startled by the landing.” She puts her book away.
“Well, that’s nice, love. Several hours ago I got the feeling you wanted to open the door and throw me off the plane.” I try to rouse a smile. The one I get is slight, but it’s quite the improvement.
“Be careful. I still might.”
The landing is smooth. I shake Smitty’s hand when he comes out of the cockpit and thank him for the nice flight. We head down to the car that is waiting for us.
Becca stares out the window with Morgan’s head resting on her lap. We sit in silence for the half-hour journey to Calabasas.
“Becca, we’re here.” I reach forward and touch her cheek after noticing she’s dozed off. Her skin is always so soft. She opens her eyes as we pull up to my gate. Sam keys the code in and we head up the long driveway to my Mediterranean-style ranch.
“This is all for just you?” Becca’s eyes are wide as we drive around the fountain of my circular driveway and stop by the front door.
“Now it’s for our family.” I grab her hand and squeeze it. She just rubs Morgan’s head. I let go and sit back. I’m really not sure of what to do here. I keep trying. “Morgy girl, wake up. We’re home.” I tap her knee. She sits up and smiles at the house. We climb out of the car and head in. Morgan heads straight to her room—the one she picked when we were here the last time—greeting the staff on the way there.
“Can I give you a tour?” I hold my hand out.
“I’m tired. Maybe tomorrow. Where did Morgan go?”
“To her bedroom.”
“Where is it? I’ll share her room with her.” She starts to head down the hall.
“Becca?” I can hardly find my voice as I grab her arm.
“I don’t want to do this tonight, Grayson. I’m very tired. I just want to go to sleep.” She tries to pull out of my grip. I lean in toward her ear.
“Don’t embarrass me. You will sleep in our room. I won’t touch you,” I say through gritted teeth. I’m really ready to lose my cool now.
“Fine.” She sighs sharply. I lead her down the hall to our room.
Inside, it’s lit by a hundred candles. Rose petals are everywhere and soft music plays in the background. Her silk nightie waits for her on its hanger. I’m immediately embarrassed—I forgot that I asked my staff to do this.
I was going to propose tonight. Properly, with a ring. It’s not exactly how I wanted to do it, but I tried to make it as romantic as possible. This way, I could introduce her tomorrow. I guess I can scratch that off the list.
“I’m sorry. I had all of this done before I turned into a complete arsehole today,” I stammer, watching her take it all in. My eyelids are wreaking havoc as she walks over to the Cristal and strawberries. She traces the cork with her finger and looks up at me.
“Can I have a glass?”
“Eh ... uh, yes. Of course, sweetheart.” Again, I stammer. I feel so nervous. I grab the bottle and pop the cork.
“I’m going to get changed,” she says. I nod. “Which door?”
“The one on the right.” I point. She smiles and I turn back to the champagne, but out of the corner of my eye, I see her take the nightie with her. Oh, I hope I can redeem my earlier behavior. I fill her glass as much as I can without being too obvious of my intent. Should I ask her tonight as planned? Should I do it before or after? Grayson, don’t get ahead of yourself! There may not be a before or an after.
“This one mine?” Becca pipes up, startling me.
“Christ, sweetheart, I didn’t even know you came in.” I hand her the glass and look at her, instantly intoxicated by her beauty. Her hair is down and wavy, hanging over her shoulders. Her face is fresh and clean of all makeup. I love that about her. Most women do the opposite and glop more crap on. Her robe is open, and I can’t help but let my eyes fall to her lovely breast.
She sips her Cristal and I place my hands on her hips because I love them ... because I can’t help myself. I lean down and smell her hair and neck. I feel her breathing become erratic. I circle around her, leaving my right hand on her stomach as I move her hair away from her neck with my left. My lips caress her neck.
“Grayson.” She turns to me. “Why did you do all of this?” She looks around, then back at me when I palm her face. I shake my head and lean in for a proper kiss from her. It’s been about eight hours, but if feels like a hundred years. She matches my passion, which ignites something so deep in me. Her stubbornness has been killing her, too! “Grayson, why?”
“Becca, I want ... I need to make love to you.” I lean in again.
“You didn’t need to do all of this to be able to make love to me.” Her eyebrow arches.
“Clearly today I did ... or do, I should say. It’s a welcome-home sentiment.” It’s a tiny lie.
“Oh.” Flat. Disappointed. She was hoping for her ring. Which, by the way, should piss me off on a whole other level. But that’s not really Becca’s character, and I am done with us being pissy today.
“Theme song?” she muses.
“Huh? Oh. No. Becca, can we be done with talking now? It’s really killing the moment, darling.” She nods and her hands find my belt. I pull my shirt off. Her fingers admire my efforts at the gym. I help her robe to fall to the floor. Funny—Valentine pipes softly through the speakers.
“Frank?”
“Yes.”
“I like Frank.”
“Yes, me too, sweetheart.” I pull one strap off her shoulder and kiss the skin I’ve uncovered. Becca giggles. “What’s so funny?” My mouth explores across the top of her chest to her other shoulder.
“I remember him on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson. Johnny said that a lot of people play his records when they want to make love. Then he waited and said something like ‘I was just wondering ... who do you put on?’ It was very funny.” She giggles more. Honestly—she has got to be fucking kidding me.
“Becca?”
“Yes.”
“I love you, sweetheart, and I’m glad you got a kick out of Mr. Carson, but could you kindly shut the fuck up now? We are in the middle of something here.” I almost cringe as I say it, but I honestly couldn’t help myself. I pull away from her shoulder and look down into her eyes. I’m searching to see if my bluntness has gotten me into trouble. Becca bites her bottom lip to hold back a smile. She glances at my eyelids.
“Beep. Beep. Beep. Be-beep. Beep,” she teases.
“Stop, sweetheart.” I caress her lips with my thumb before I collect them with mine.
I pull the nightie’s straps off and let it fall to the ground. My jeans and underwear follow suit. I walk over to the bed and pull the duvet back. Rose petals fly everywhere. I place my left hand on her right hip and lose my right hand in her hair as my mouth finds hers again. Slowly, I guide her onto the bed, our mouths never leaving one another’s.
I pull away from the kiss and let my fingers caress her cheek as I stare into her eyes again. I’m so in love with her. I’m so in love with learning more about her, hearing about all of the things in her past that piece together who she is today. She’s the most amazing woman I never even knew I was waiting for. How did I get so lucky?
“You are, indeed , very awesome,” I say, and grasp her lips again as I enter her.
BECCA
What is he doing? I don’t want to open my eyes. I know it’s not time to get up yet—there’s no alarm. Oh my God, he’s totally slipping a ring onto my finger! I guess I’m so awesome, I don’t require an actual proposal. Humph. No ... wait, this may actually be brilliantly sweet. He already knows my answer. We’ve established that we are indeed getting married. Yes, okay, I totally love this! Should I nonchalantly stir in my sleep and wake to find a ring on my finger? No. I should wait a few minutes first. No ... hmm. If I can’t look at it yet, I want to at least feel what it looks like. He’s still holding my hand kissing the ring. Is he chanting? Oh ... he’s praying (the usual way people pray ... not our way). Shit. My eyes fill up. I nuzzle my head into his neck. He turns his head and kisses my cheek.
“Mmm ... I love you,” I whisper. He lets go of my hand and rubs my back. I quickly run my hand up under his pillow to meet my other hand so I can hug him and, well, check out the ring.
Grayson starts chuckling. “Copping a feel of your new ring, sweetheart?” I can’t help but giggle.
“Oh, Grayson.” I gasp when he slaps my bottom.
“First things first, then we’ll have a look.” He pulls me astride him, slaps me again, and enters me. I can’t stand how wild he makes me feel.
By the powers invested in Grayson’s hips, I now pronounce myself thoroughly shagged for the third time this evening. The twenty minutes I just endured were both pleasurable and torturous. I find myself wondering if sex is his superpower. Christ. Where does he get the energy? Then again, where am I getting the energy?
“Come. Let us see what we have here.” He pats my bottom—my very sore bottom—and pulls himself up to turn on the light. It takes us both a few minutes to focus.
“Oh, Grayson, it’s gorgeous!” I hold my hand up high, then out straight, then on his chest. It’s beautiful from every angle.
“See, these three round diamonds represent you, me, and Morgan. Then the diamond ropes wrapping around them represent the intertwining of our lives. Do you like the design? I thought Neil did a great job.” I look up at him. He sort of reminds me of a child who is excited about something, but isn’t sure you will love it as much as they thought you would.
“I love it, Grayson. It’s perfect. I love the sentiment. I love the antique look to it—it’s classy and beautiful. It takes my breath away, just like you.” I lean up and kiss him.
“I’m glad. I started working on the design with Neil a few weeks ago. I got it so fast because I told him I’d be introducing you to the world. He wanted to make sure his name was on that ring.” He plays with it. I am overcome with tears—my usual reaction to everything lately. “Shh. What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He looks worried.
“I just ... I thought I hadn’t gotten a ring yet because you didn’t trust me, and here you were, trying to design it the entire time.” I just shake my head in disbelief.
“I’m sorry you thought that, sweetheart, but did you honestly think I was just going to pop into the mall and pick out whatever looked good?”
“Um ... yeah, that would be the normal thing to do.” I smile and roll my eyes.
“And this,” he pinches the ring, “is not normal?”
“Well, not the usual,” I say.
“Oh, you want the usual? Have you met us yet? Hi, we’re Grayson and Becca ... not your usual sort. But if you want me to give this back and run to the mall, by all means.” He goes to pull it off.
“No!” I slap his hand.
“No?” He asks.
“No.” I shake my head.
“Well, come on, love. We have to get up in five hours.” He turns off the light and scoots back down. I nuzzle into his neck again and plant a kiss there. “You know, it’s official,” he says softly.
“What’s that?” I close my eyes.
“I’m going to be slapping this fantastic bum well into our nineties!” He slaps me hard for emphasis.
“Oh God, baby, please stop now.” He’s been slaphappy tonight, and not in the way that word is defined.
“Yes, sweetheart.” He kisses my head and I’m off to dreamland after he chuckles at me for asking who the fuck Neil is. Apparently, he’s the jeweler to the stars. I guess I’ve got a lot to learn about who’s who out here in La-La Land!
It’s seven in the morning and I can hear the buzz going on in the house. Grayson needs to be at his office in an hour for his public relations meeting. I’m not quite sure about all these little fires he has to put out. I’ve seen him on the phone over the past month handling things—or so I thought.
I climb out of bed and join him in the shower. Damn, he is quite the sight. Oh, wow, he has one of those showers where there are five million heads coming out of the wall. I foresee many hours of my future eaten away by me just standing there, letting wasted water pelt away my stress. I walk in and move my hands up his back to his shoulders. He’s tense. Christ. One would think that, after last night, he’d be so relaxed he’d seem drugged.
“Hey, baby, you okay?” I turn him toward me.
“I’ll be all right, sweetheart. I just have to save my company today. No big deal, really.” He tries to smile.
“Gray, how can so many problems arise in five weeks? I really can’t understand this.” Maybe I should be Googling ... no. I shouldn’t have to Google my own fiancé!
“Well, I haven’t been on top of my game lately. I guess I just got sick of all the bullshit, and I loosened my grip on the reigns a bit. I am back, though, and ultra-focused. With very good reason, of course.” His smile finally widens.
