Social Neighbor (The Social Series Book 1) (30 page)

Graham withdrew from me and rolled onto his back, tugging me with him. I tucked into his side like a tailored fit and sighed. His heart was still pounding and mine was too.

“You’re so much trouble for me.”

“You’re probably right about that.” His voice was resigned and it caught my attention. I got up on one elbow and studied his face.

“Goliath, why do I have the distinct feeling that I’m barely scratching the surface with you?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question.” He was the picture of haunted and I wanted to know what was behind those dark eyes. I wanted to know what he was up against—what I was up against—and at the same time, I was scared out of my mind that the nagging feeling I’d been battling was spot on. Sex had distracted the both of us but the moment it was over; we both seemed to have plenty on our minds.

Ignorance is bliss. For now.

“I wish you’d tell me,” I whispered with my forehead pressed against his. “I want to help.” I knew he’d know I was talking about whatever it was that had him holding back. I wanted full disclosure. I wanted to know his secrets and I wanted him to know mine. I wanted it all out on the table.

“There’s no help for me,” he whispered with a rueful smile on his lips.

“Let me try,” I pleaded.

“I am.” His hands brushed my hair back off my shoulders.

I slept in his arms until a soundless dream of Elle roused me from sleep. She smiled that little toddler grin. Her bright blue eyes broke my heart. I reached for her but she drifted away from me into the failing light of the day.

My eyes fluttered open and I felt listless. I slipped from Graham’s mammoth bed, pulled his tee shirt on and tiptoed from his room. I made my way into his kitchen and wandered around, picking things up to look at them and setting them back in their place. I was bored and unsettled by my dream. It had been so long since Elle passed away and when I dreamed of her, I always woke feeling like something was being pulled from me. I felt like the memory of her face was crumbling and it would only be a matter of time before I found it difficult to conjure a mental image of her.

I walked quietly to Graham’s great room and sat down on his couch. Gray suede material felt lush against the backs of my thighs. I leaned back and closed my eyes, trying my best to picture sweet little Elle.

“Hey,” Graham said quietly from a few feet behind me. I hadn’t even heard him enter the room.

“Hey.” I smiled.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. Just had a dream.” I shrugged.

“Tell me,” he said as he carefully transferred his big frame from his chair to the couch. He settled beside me and waited for me to decide whether or not to open up to him.

I hadn’t indicated much about the hurt that contended with. But I knew he had recognized it in me as I had recognized it in him. Like a mirror, Graham and I reflected each other. I took a deep breath and committed to telling him before I backed down. He was brave enough to share with me. The least I could do was reciprocate and I wanted him to know. I wanted him to know my secrets and share the weight of my burdens in hopes that it would further solidify our budding relationship.

“I was four. Elle was two. We used to play in the garage a lot. My brother would ride his bike and play with his friends and stuff like that, so it was usually just me and Elle. My dad was a drunk. That’s not even a good way to describe him. I’m talking sloppy, nasty, reckless, selfish drunk.” I glanced at Graham and noted the serious look in his eyes. “There was an accident. It, uh, it was my fault.” Tears snaked down my cheeks. I was glad my vision had gone blurry because I couldn’t bear to look Graham in his eyes.

“Oh my God, baby,” Graham pulled me against him, tucking me up against his big frame as my hurt washed out of me one guttural sob after another. His arm draped over me and I felt truly safe. Safe enough to let go of something I’d held in for a very, very long time.

“Graham, I can barely remember her face and it kills me,” I cried, wrapped in his arms and his understanding.

“I know it does, baby. It’s okay. I’m here, and I’m not leaving.”

“Graham,” I sniffled. So much emotion pooled inside my chest. In that moment I felt more love for this man than I knew I was capable of. I wanted him to know, I needed him to know, but the words wouldn’t come. I turned in his arms to face him. I lifted my hand to rest my palm against his face.

“I know,” he whispered, then leaned forward and kissed me as though I’d never been kissed before and in truth, the way his lips moved against mine, soft and sweet and so very sincere, I felt like it was my very first and very last kiss rolled into one perfect moment.

It had been a week since Graham agreed to stay at his penthouse instead of Tommy’s apartment, and I felt a little victorious for having convinced him to stay in his own home. I had left him alone this morning to run errands. I needed to check my mail and go by Social She to get the last of my things from my desk. My time there was officially over but I felt okay with it. I still got the sympathetic stares as I left, the reluctant farewells too, but I think I took them all in stride. Change was good. Change wasn’t a bad thing, right? Moving along in life sometimes meant letting go of things and even people, and that was all okay. At least, that’s the private conversation that I kept having with myself.

I stopped by my place for the mail. I sorted the stack between me and Matt and tossed his mail on his bed. I opened an envelope addressed to me and realized very quickly that my recent professional change came with money. Lots of it. My Goliath had some explaining to do.

“Graham! Graham!” I called as I searched the penthouse for him.

“Hmm?” He hummed from his office as I came to a stop in the doorframe.

“What is this?” I held up the check Con had sent to my apartment. I still felt faint from seeing the amount in the little box on the right.

“What’s what, baby?” He looked up at me and smiled.

“This,” I said, waving the check out in front of me. Graham shrugged.

“That would be your paycheck, I assume.”

“Yeah, if I’m some top executive of some Fortune 500 company!” My eyes found the numbers in the little box again and I gaped at him.

“What’s your point, baby?” He asked, opening his drawer and rifling through its contents for god only knew what.

“This—this is
insane
! This is more than half my annual salary at the magazine!” I squeaked with wide eyes.

“And you deserve every penny.” He nodded.

“Would you stop and look at me?”

“Yes. I love looking at you.” His dark eyes found mine and it was obvious that he was enjoying how scandalized I must have looked.

“Graham, I’m serious. This is too much,” I said, hurrying to his desk to shove the check at him.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t take that back, and I encourage you to deposit the check into your account.”

“I won’t.” I slapped the check down on his desk and folded my arms. I wasn’t going to lose this battle with him.

“Sure you will.” The way he remained so calm and collected unnerved me further. The man really knew how to get under my skin.

“Goliath,” I warned.

“Flor,” he mocked me.

“Why are you so damn stubborn?”

“Why are you?”

“That’s… This… There’s… I’m not the one on trial here!” I struggled to organize my thoughts with him sitting shirtless in his office chair looking mouthwateringly good.

“Flor, please,” he urged. I took a deep breath and rolled my eyes upward.

“I can’t believe you,” I muttered, turning on my heels. “I’m doing more work then! I like knowing that I’ve earned my pay!” I shouted as I left him in his office.

“Oh, you’ll earn it, baby.”

“I heard that! Your deep voice carries, Goliath!” He was nuts if he thought I was going to take his money without feeling as though I had earned it. I stood in the middle of his great room and looked around at the space. It was immaculate. I marched to his refrigerator and peered inside.

Food. He needs food. I can do food.

“I’m getting dressed and going to the store. You need food. And I suddenly have thousands of extra dollars to spend!” I shouted dryly as I made my way to the bathroom to locate my discarded clothes. I looked down on the floor to the small heap of clothes.

Laundry. I can do laundry too.

I bent down and began collecting his clothes.

“Stop!”

“What?” I jumped. “You scared me!” I threw his sweat pants at him and he clutched them to his chest and looked…relieved?

“Don’t want me doing your laundry?”

“No. I’m sorry. I was only joking with you.” He stuffed his abandoned clothes beside him in his chair.

“You really are a two year old.”

He shrugged and smiled, displaying his dimples. I died. I really was addicted to those dimples. I didn’t see them all the time so when I did get a glimpse of them, I was enamored.

“You don’t need to mess with my clothes. Or yours for that matter. I have a laundry service.”

“Oh? You going to pay someone to come to my apartment and gather up my dirty clothes?”

“Nope. Your dirty clothes will be here.”

“Graham, I am not hauling my dirty laundry to your penthouse every week.”

“You won’t have to haul them anywhere. Stay here. Every day. And your dirty clothes will be here.” He shrugged his big shoulders as though it was the simplest, most practical thing in the world but my mouth had gone dry.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t force the words to move from my brain to my mouth. I stared at him like a fool.

“Keep your place if you want. I just want you here. All the time.”

“Graham, that’s moving pretty fast,” I whispered.

“Just think about it, okay?”

I swallowed hard and nodded my head but found my legs moving, carrying me right to my Goliath. I carefully slid into his lap. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t do anything except close my eyes and revel in my amazing man.

Emotion bubbled up in me and I couldn’t say where it came from. It was anyone’s guess. I was caught up in a whirlwind romance with a man who had stolen my heart completely. In fact, he kicked down the door to my heart and hijacked it without me even knowing it, but he’d done it all the same. I was glad he did, though.

I think I love you.

I didn’t say it out loud. I kept it inside. I’d said it just for me. I admitted to myself, my greatest critic, that I had fallen in love with the boy next door and god how I loved him already.

I leaned back and looked into those impossibly dark eyes and noted how tender they appeared.

Yeah, I could look at that every single day.

“I hate this chair,” he muttered.

“Why?”

“Because I like holding that little body of yours
standing up
.”

“Barbara said one more week. That’s all.”

“One more week.” He sighed.