Delaney James seemed to have it all-a Manhattan townhouse, a thriving career as a fashion journalist, and a handsome, high-powered husband, but when he announces he's leaving her, Delaney's picture-perfect life unravels. Heartbroken and in need of a...
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I'm exhausted when I wake up. The things Mr. McKinnie said to me were beautiful, but he spoke with such finality that his words ran on a constant loop in my mind. I tossed and turned most of the night, and once I accepted sleep was far off, I tip-toed down to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea all while trying to imagine what our lives will be like without Mr. McKinnie.
His sentiment was sweet. It gave me more power than I deserve, but it was sweet. I know all about Greyson's depression, the dark days he, and everyone close to him, endured after his injury forced him to retire, and I saw it firsthand when I got home. But I have depression and darkness in me too, or at least I did before Greyson opened his heart and forgave me for the way I hurt him, and let me back in.
I know his father thinks I brought him back to life, but in fact, Greyson has been the one to revive me.
I sleepily trudge into the kitchen and open the fridge, staring at the carton of eggs like they're going to magically turn into a spinach and feta omelet. I know a healthy, hearty breakfast is what I should be having, but I don't have the energy. So, I grab a bowl from the cabinet and pour some Frosted Flakes.
"Good morning!" my mother chirps as she strolls into the kitchen. It's field day at school and she's wearing her Good Sports Are Always Winners T-shirt. "I didn't hear you come in last night. How was dinner?"
My Frosted Flakes suddenly feel like sawdust in my mouth. "Um...it was okay. He wasn't feeling great, so he just ate some of the chicken noodle soup I'd made him."
"And how's Julianna holding up?"
I shrug and swirl my cereal around in the bowl. "She's putting on a brave face for all of us."
"It was sweet of you to spend the week with him, Del." She rounds the corner of the island and places a kiss on top of my head. "He loves you so much and I know he appreciates you spending your free time with him."
Tears dampen my eyes with my mother's words – words that echo what Mr. McKinnie said last night.
"I know," I say. My voice is a raspy whisper as I try and talk around the ache of emotion in my throat.
"Have you spoken to Greyson?" she asks.
"I talked to him last night. He was going out with some of the guys and assumed he'd be getting home late, so he called me before he left."
A blush warms my cheeks, and I can't help but smile when I think about Greyson and our communication while he's been gone. He's texted me good morning and goodnight every single day since he left. He's called whenever he gets any free time. He's said he misses me, and can't wait to see me, and that he can't stop thinking about me, but there's also been some sexting – mostly from him.
On Monday, I woke up to a text informing me he'd had a dirty dream about us, involving an empty bakery, chocolate frosting, and a naked me lying atop a counter. On Wednesday, I received a photo of him fresh out of the shower, his towel hung low on his waist, his hair wet and falling over his seductive eyes, to which I responded with a photo of myself in a sports bra and tiny shorts, drenched in sweat from my five-mile run. Yesterday, after I sent him a photo of my wet, soapy knees and the tops of my breasts peeking out of my bubble bath, he texted me a GIF of a guy holding onto a fire hose that was out of control and said "I feel like a horny teenager. You have no idea what I have in mind for you when I get back." I answered with a GIF of Samantha from Sex and the City saying "It's dicklicious," which then started an hours-long game of Who Can Send the Dirtiest GIF.
