Southern Gentleman (Charleston Heat 3)

He’s been doing the work. It’s just the wrong kind of work.

“Although I have to say I’m proud of the fact that Monty and I were able to be ourselves in our relationship while still being open—and willing—to change in order to be what the other needed,” Eliza continues. “To make our relationship and our family work. He never asked me to change who I was deep down, or what I wanted. But he did ask me to work on my patience because I’d hurt him when I snapped. I asked him to help me more in the kitchen, because meal planning, grocery shopping, and cooking for four people seven days a week was a full time job, and I already had one of those.”

Nodding, I swallow. Hard.

“That’s exactly what I want for Grey and I—the ability to be ourselves while still being willing to change to make our relationship work. But Grey just has these deeply entrenched beliefs that I’m not sure he’s willing to budge on. He wants to contribute. Wants to give our family what he believes we want and need. ‘The best of the best’ as he says. But I need something different. We need him to be there, Eliza. I need him to be around more.”

Eliza takes a bite of salad. Chews thoughtfully for a moment.

“I hope there’s a way for y’all to compromise. A way for you to meet halfway, so Grey can scratch that itch of his to do the best of the best thing and still be around the way you’d like him to be. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Grey means well. That’s as much a part of him as his drive.”

Yes, I think to myself. And I need to acknowledge that. I need to give that part of him space to thrive, because it is a good thing.

I just don’t know how.

“I hope we can get there,” I say, tearing up again. “I just don’t know how.”

She reaches across the table and puts a hand over mine.

“I know my son, Julia. And I know he’s head over heels in love with you. He’ll try his damndest to make you happy, and make your family work.”

Yep, definitely crying now.

“I’d do the same,” I say. “Honestly, Eliza. We’re just…different.”

“Talk to him. I’m sure he’s working on this, same as you are right now. And once you’ve talked, keep talking. Make it a habit. Show you can change, same as him, while still remaining true to who you are. The woman he fell in love with.”

I don’t know what else to do. I reach across the table and pull Eliza in for the awkwardest, sweetest hug.

Who knows what will happen next. If Grey and I can work things out. If we can’t.

But I do know I feel better just talking to Eliza. Being with her.

“I really appreciate the words of wisdom,” I say. “I miss my parents like crazy. But y’all have welcomed me like a daughter, and that means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

She kisses my cheek. “I’d be lucky to call you a daughter, Julia. Not only did you bring my son back from the dead. You also have excellent taste in literature.”

That makes me laugh, even as my eyes flood with a fresh round of tears.

“Men in kilts,” she continues. “Men in suits. They’re not so different, are they? They have their uniform, and they’re confident enough to rock the hell out of it.”

“They have sexy accents,” I add. “At least our men in suits do.”

“They’re the ultimate alphas. But the taller they are…”

I grin. “The harder they fall.”

“Exactly.” Eliza meets my eyes. “Believe it or not, Monty was the tall guy in the power suit when we first met. As cocky and self-important as they come. Now look at him. He bakes cakes from scratch for his granddaughter’s birthday parties. He loves Outlander as much as I do. He’s still Monty. Still the man I married.”

“He’s still who he is. You’ve just rubbed off on him.”

She grins. This sly, almost secret thing.

“I have.” She motions for the check. “Now you go rub off on Grey. And let him rub up on you.”

I laugh. Blush. Cry.

I hope Greyson and I have as happy an ending as Eliza and Monty’s.Chapter Thirty-TwoGreysonI make a million calls. My employees. My partners.

I call Olivia. Gracie, too.

The West Ashley location of Hello Baby. The downtown location of Rainbow Row Books, Charleston’s most well-known Indie bookstore. I somehow, through a combination of shameless flattery and even more shameless desperation, convince the owner, Louise, to open the store for me this morning so I can check out a few things and pick her brain.

Once I have that shit somewhat settled, I take a deep breath and call Julia last. I bring my phone to my ear. Heart thumping inside my chest.