She didn’t say who I was. No, she had. She said I was Gray. She hadn’t told Chris I was Grayson Green, The Green Machine. To Emory, I was just Gray. Unless she saw one of my fights on the Internet, my past was just that. The past.
“Okay, go. I understand. I’m glad you’re doing well. Good. Yes. I love you, too. Bye.”
I left the closet. She sat on the side of the bed in the dress shirt I’d worn the night before, the sleeves rolled up and the tails of it brushing over her thighs. I liked it on her much better than on me.
“Radiologist?”
Her head came up and she looked me over. “Didn’t you go in there a while ago to get dressed?”
I was still wearing just my boxers and while I grinned sheepishly, I didn’t want to get off target. “Radiologist?” I repeated.
She rolled her eyes. “He sits in a dark room all day looking at films. He’s harmless.”
“What’s his name?”
She furrowed her brow. “His name? Oh no.” She held up her hand as if to stop me. “Are you planning on beating up all the men in my past?”
“If he hurt you, he might have to check his own x-rays for broken bones,” I grumbled.
She shook her head as she came to plant a kiss on my cheek. A sweet kiss. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”
I heard what she didn’t say. “Your ex then. Can I beat the shit out of him?”
This time when she kissed me, it was on the mouth and there was nothing sweet about it. When her tongue met mine, it was sexy as hell. “Yes, you can beat him up.”
I pulled back from the kiss enough to take a deep breath. “You’re distracting me from our conversation.”
She grinned against my mouth, her hand resting
on my bare chest. “You noticed.”
“I notice everything about you. Do you really want me to go with you to Parents’ Weekend?”
Stepping back, she let her hand drop and the spot felt cold. She looked away. “Did I overstep?”
I reached out, tugged her back so she bumped into me. “No. I’m…it just sounded like you were including me in your family and it was…nice.”
She offered me a smile, a soft one, filled with what looked a whole lot like…love. “Good.”
Was that what this was? Was that what I felt for her? Love? Did she feel the same way? She was the most important thing in the fucking world to me, but love? I had no clue what love was. It was like trying on a suit and seeing if it fit. With Emory, she fit—we fit—perfectly. “Emory, I—”
Her cell rang, then mine only a few seconds later.
“Shit,” I muttered.
“I bet that’s Christy.”
“Which means that’s Paul on my phone.” I didn’t hide the irritation from my voice. Emory was kissing me. She was kissing me. She was being the pursuer and I liked it. A lot.
“They don’t know we’re together. Together as in you and me.” She pointed between us. “And also as in the same room.”
I knew what she was saying. Did we want to keep this a secret, or tell? I angled my chin. “Go. Answer it. I’ll take my call in the other room.”
***
Two hours later, I was pushing the speed limit on the highway, not wasting any time getting to Atlantic City. When Emory told Christy what had happened, she'd pulled Paul into the conversation. Emory had pulled me down to sit beside her on the bed and we talked to the couple together by speakerphone.
Yes, someone had been in her house.