My hopes.
My dreams.
Because, forever, they belong to her.
Ten
STORY
* * *
It was another sleepless night, staring at the ceiling. I’m not sure when I finally fell asleep, but when I woke, my lids felt swollen.
That was what I missed most, I realized. Having someone to share the darkness with.
I don’t think about you, Grayson, I pity you.
What a fucking lie. He was all I thought about.
I’d stared at the door, picturing Grayson coming to me, as ludicrous as that was. When I heard a creak outside my door, I let myself play out a fantasy that he actually had come to me. I told him I would learn to hate him.
I was doing a bad job of it.
But did he have to be so fucking cruel? It was already torture watching him with his wife.
I rolled over, and my face smacked into something hard.
A journal.
I sat up so fast I almost got whiplash. It looked like the one Grayson had in his d
esk. I held it tightly between my fingers.
Had he actually come last night?
Tentatively, I went to open the leather book.
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs.
I ran my finger across the raised green ink.
This line from Romeo and Juliet basically meant passion always gave way to grief, the sighs are one and the same, and my heart ached with the accuracy.
I was deep inside Grayson’s soul. Deeper than he’d ever allowed me inside before. It was torture. To be so inside—and so far away from him.
The floorboard outside my door creaked.
“Grayson?” His name fell from my lips before I could keep it in.
I was glued to the door opening, as if in slow motion.
“Angel.” West opened the door entirely, leaning against the doorframe.
My heart dropped like a fucking traitor.
Grayson left us, I tried to reason with it. I shoved the journal under my pillow, feeling caught.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.