Page 51 of Really Truly Yours
Donny grins in that toothy way of his. “Yep. Gray got it for me yesterday.” He picks the latest generation phone up, showing it off. “I got a new number, too. Let’s trade.”
Yes, let’s. I smile for his benefit. No wonder I couldn’t reach him.
I end up having to enter my number in his phone for him because he doesn’t know how. I stumble around for a minute myself. My phone is a dinosaur, its operating system several installments behind this one.
The longer we talk, I notice his breathing growing more labored. That’s normal when he gets tired. Every time, it makes my heart hurt, and the frailty feels worse now contrasted against his joy.
Grayson’s stretches the length of the bed, his feet hanging off the end of the king-sized mattress. His head at the pillow completes a triangle of arm and elbow. He scrolls away on his phone. My gaze keeps looping back to him. With a yawn, he rolls to his back and starts tapping away.
As Donny’s and my conversation wanes, Grayson throws his long legs over the side of the bed and leaves the room, returning a few minutes later with a handled bag packed with foam containers. He unloads a feast for Donny and spreads it across a small table.
“You ready to eat, old man?”
I flinch at the term, but Donny beams. It’s obvious the expression has undergone a metamorphosis. He makes careful way across the room, clapping his hands together with glee at the spread of food..
“Now, take your meds when you’re done. I laid out the ones you need on the nightstand. There’s water there, too.” Grayson pats Donny’s bony back.
My eyes try to well up. I tamp the moisture down. Dad hated tears so much.
After goodbyes, Grayson and I walk through the lobby and out the parted glass doors, late-day sun in our eyes. Some colorful leaves crunch beneath our shoes. This sweater won’t be up to the task soon.
He turns. “Let me buy you dinner?”
“Oh, I should get home.” For what, exactly?
His tawny eyebrows dip, I swear seeing through my bull. “Don’t make me eat alone, Sydnee.”
I suppose even people who have money let friends buy them dinner once in a while. “Okay. Sure.”
A rugged grin hitches up his cheek. He points out a chain, roadhouse-style restaurant, one of a trio of places within walking distance.
Side by side we cross the network of parking lots, our hands brushing once or twice. I have the strangest feeling he wants to take hold.
I am so dumb. I must be projecting.
Projecting what exactly? Why would I want that? I may not be the most educated person around, but I am smart enough to know a man like Grayson Smith would not be interested in someone like me.
Even as the thought comes, my mind’s eye is bombarded by an image. It’s a version of myself holding up a photo and pointing to the snapshot memory of Grayson’s face and mine, inches apart, his eyes on my lips there in my living room. The imposter taps the photo. See, see this here?
Whatever. If Grayson did notice me, it was only one of those things. Men are always going to be men. Surely it’s obvious he’d never get anywhere with me. I may appear to be one of those disposable people, but I have pride and I have standards—and that’s not happening.
“Are you worrying about Donny?”
My mind blanks. “Donny?”
“Yeah. You look…” He swirls his hand in front of his face. “Stressed.”
A car waits for us to cross to the building. “No, Donny looks gre—”
I start to tumble. Grayson’s hand at my waistline shores me up. “Watch where you’re going there, Syd.”
I look down at red paint and the words fire lane. “Um, missed the curb there.”
“You think?” The crinkles around his eyes fan out their charm. His fingers stay loosely on my sweater until he holds the door for me a few steps later.
It’s only barely the dinner hour in the middle of the week, so we’re seated immediately, making our corner booth one of the few filled tables in the place. I open the menu and search for something reasonably priced that won’t set off an episode.
I settle on a salad with grilled chicken. Grayson orders a ribeye steak, as well as loaded cheese fries as an appetizer. Is this his fitness regimen?