MY LEGS ARE TOGETHER, MY head nearly touching my knees, when I hear the front door open. Lifting my chin, my breathing hiccups.
He’s standing in the doorway, his suit jacket in his hand, his tie askew and halfway unknotted. The silky black strands I love to touch are sticking wildly up in all directions. But it’s his face, the tautness of his lips, the hesitation in his eyes, that I see most clearly.
Our gazes connect in the glass in front of me as he ambles slowly across the room. All I can hear is my heartbeat thrashing in my chest as anticipation of this moment bears down on me.
He removes his shoes and socks near mine, adds his jacket to the pile, and then joins me on the floor.
He settles in beside me, mirroring my position. He grabs his calves through his dress pants and stretches. I feel him looking at me, his gaze asking me a million questions. I just look at my red-painted toes that I had done for Lincoln’s wedding.
After a few minutes, the tension gets to be too much and I roll away from him and onto my stomach. I press up with my hands like a cobra. He follows suit.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his tie dragging the ground, the sleeves of his shirt unbuttoned and rolled to his elbows. His forearms flex, the vein in the side of his neck pulsing. Everything about this image is as un-Graham-like as it could be.
“I expected you to rip my ass when I walked in. Aren’t you going to say anything to me?” he says, dropping to the ground as I do.
“No.” I roll away from him again, sitting in a butterfly style.
“Good. I’d prefer you listen, too.”
“I didn’t say I was going to listen to you either.”
He chuckles, which only angers me. Glaring at him straight away, I suck in a breath. Mistake. I can smell his cologne and the energy rolling off him, and I have to exhale it as quickly as I took it in. I won’t just brush this under the rug, no matter how I feel about him.
“Mallory, I’m sorry.”
That’s all it takes for the tears to haunt my eyes again, blurring the outline of his chiseled face. His own eyes are filled with so much emotion that I have to look away.
“You’ve said that already,” I reply.
“So I have.” There’s a note of insecurity in his voice that I’ve never heard before, a hint of hesitation that seeps in the words. He blows out a long, strangled breath. “I shouldn’t have acted like I did today. It was childish and I’m completely mortified that I did it. To you of all people.”
“You should be,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “What you did today was bullshit, Graham. Complete bullshit. Be mad at me. Point out my fuckup. Fire me, for heaven’s sake. But talk to me like I’m an errant child worthy of no respect? Nope.”
“Mallory . . .”
“I’m not done.” I turn to face him, the words flowing. “As your employee, I won’t stand for you to talk to me like that. As your . . . whatever I am to you—”
“Mallory—”
“Stop interrupting me,” I demand. His lips close, his eyes going wide. “I don’t know what I am to you. I don’t know how to define it. But I will tell you one thing: there is no role I’ll play in your life, or anyone else’s, where I will overlook this.”
My chin lifts and I look him in the eye. “I spent too many years being silent about what I wanted. I went with the flow, didn’t rock the boat. Sure, it made for smoother waters for a while but that was at the expense of my happiness and confidence. I know you were angry today and you verbalized that in a way that you wouldn’t normally. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit back and not say a word. No one is going to talk to me or take me for granted like that again.”
“No one talks to me like this either,” he chuckles.
“I do.”
“Which is why I love you.”
The words are out in a flash and we both recoil just a bit as they land on our ears. I still, my eyes going wide, matching his.
“I was angry today,” he says softly. “I own that. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I wasn’t or that you misunderstood the situation because we both know you didn’t. I didn’t stop and think and separate everything out. I just flew off the handle.”
“Yes. You did.” My shoulders sag even as I fight them to stay strong. Just thinking about it hurts—my pride, my feelings, my heart.
The light in his eyes dims. “What you don’t know is that today was a day of firsts for me.” He takes a deep breath. “The first day I woke up and stared at a woman before getting out of bed, wishing she would never leave. The first day I failed at something as the head of Landry Holdings. The first day I felt the complete and utter fear of losing someone.”
“You felt that way with Vanessa,” I remind him. He grins as I spit her name like the piece of poison she is.