Page 10 of Yours, Always
“I’m sorry,” Prudence interrupted. “Did I just hear you say you had lunch with Samantha Crane? And you didn’t think to tell me this, either? After not telling me you were taking her to the awards?”
Not good. They shared almost everything, and he once again had no valid excuse why he hadn’t told her about both things to do with Samantha Crane.
“I guess I assumed you saw the pictures the paparazzi took. And I haven’t had a chance to talk to you, we’ve played phone tag all week then things got so hectic the last few days except for this morning when I was so rushed. I’m not thinking about her when I’m talking to you. The time difference doesn’t help and…” He trailed off, not knowing what else to say, knowing his excuses were flimsier than Saran Wrap over an airplane window.
“Why aren’t you happier, then?” Prudence pressed, thankfully dropping the subject of Samantha Crane again. “This is what you’ve been working so hard for. Doing the grueling action films just waiting for the right director to notice you can actually act.”
“I know, I know,” Greyson muttered, standing up and pacing around the living room. “I honestly thought this would all be different and yet, after winning an award, I feel like a supreme tool that I don’t.” He stopped. “Nadia wants us to do a movie together. A comedy,” he said, giving her the simplest explanation for them being at the awards show together.
“That’s good, though, right?”
“I suppose. I should be excited about it. I should be excited about all of it.”
“You’re burned out, Grey. Take a break and come home. You can relax here and plan your next move from outside the fishbowl. Annabelle would love to see you, and Gabe’s been fixing up your parents’ home,” Prudence said. “Pretty nicely if I might say, thanks to me, of course. My eye for design is pretty good. Gabe’s talent for woodwork has come a long way, too.”
“He’s always been the handy one, but please…tell me he didn’t use shiplap,” Greyson pleaded as he walked up the stairs to his bedroom.
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “He may have used shiplap.”
Greyson groaned. “None of those sliding barn doors?”
“There might be, like, one…” Prudence said, her voice rising at the end of the sentence, “…or two…?”
“There had better not be any—”
“There’s all of it, Greyson! Everything you’ve seen on HGTV he’s done,” Prudence interrupted. “He’s obsessed with that channel. It’s the only thing he allows on in Finnegan’s during the day. It drives everyone nuts.”
“I need to come home just to put an end to this remodel. It’s a colonial house, dammit, not a barn!” he exclaimed, settling on his bed. “And you, the most sought-after interior designer in Massachusetts, allows my brother to only use reclaimed barn material? Where’s your vision?”
“People like what they like, Grey, and if they like shiplap, they like shiplap. You literally can’t talk them out of it. Haven’t you seenFixer Upper? Just ask Chip. Joanna gets her shiplap. No. Matter. What.”
Greyson became unfocused for a moment, staring at the phone screen. Prudence had pulled her mane of hair back into a ponytail—something he’d seen her do a hundred times before, but now it was different. She smiled and it hit him. As if there could’ve been any other option. He needed Prudence. He needed her more than a friend, more than a phone and text buddy.
It was no longer good enough to lie in bed wishing she was there with him, or to go to an awards show or red carpet and compare every other woman there to her. Everything was as clear as his path he’d walked to the awards show stage that night. He wanted to see her smile, to smile athim, every day for the rest of his life. He snapped out of his moment of clarity when his call waiting beeped.
“That’s Annabelle.” Greyson shook his head to clear it. “I’d better answer so she gets the exclusive for the Bee Online edition tomorrow in time.”
“Tell her ‘hi’ and not to forget coffee in the morning, deadline or no.”
“I will,” Greyson promised.
“Hey,” Prudence said quietly. “Come home.”
“I will, Pru.” He focused on Prudence’s face, noticing how stunning she was in this moment. “Listen, about Samantha.”
“Grey, don’t worry about it. It was just the tequila talking.”
He took a long moment and studied her face. He knew her better than this, though. She was hurt, and he could tell, but he’d find a way to make it up to her, and there was no better way than going home.
Chapter Six
Annabelle slid into the seat across from Prudence at Books and Beans, pulling out her laptop. “How can The Moms low-key drink like they’re in their early twenties? I feel like death warmed over.”
“It wasyouridea to take a shot every time the camera panned to Wyatt Reed,” Prudence reminded her as she slid a cup of coffee in front of Annabelle, who was already typing away. “Hey! Did you get your interview with Greyson in on time?”
“Of course,” Annabelle said, fingers clicking on her computer keys. “I never miss a deadline.” She looked up, still typing. “And for the record, he did remind me of our coffee date this morning. He said he was on the phone with you when I called. It wasn’t my best interview but shockingly I was coherent enough to get through it.”
“I can always count on him to keep you on track.” She sat for a moment while Annabelle typed. “I can’t get over how terrible he sounded.” She chipped the nail polish off one of her fingers and thought about how much of their conversation to tell Annabelle. She knew that whatever was said would stay between them, especially when it came to Greyson. She broke out of her thoughts when she noticed the clicks had stopped on Annabelle’s keyboard and glanced up to see her level gaze, knowing there was something else to be said.