A Little Bit Married

Not You

I picked myself up from the floor with the help of Aunt Althea, just as Aunt Maurine walked through the door. She turned to me, her eyes filled with scorn and disdain.

I swallowed, my lips parting as I turned between her rather unpleasant look and Gray. Gray had put a distance between he and Samantha, and she was saying something that the rest of us couldn't hear.

"You are not having this house to yourself, if that's what you thought would happen."

"Maurine," Aunt Althea said, coming between us. "She risked everything to open that door for you both. Including standing up to Gray."

"Is that what she is doing to get all of you to like her? Because it will not work on me."

"You are not too far from the door, Aunt."

She turned to Gray, whose hands were now behind him as he completely ignored Samantha, who appeared to be pleading.

"What?"

"You can turn and leave. As for my wife, she is here to stay."

I bit down on my lips, and Aunt Althea put a hand behind me, tapping me lightly.

"You are blessed, child. Thank you very much."

I gave her a small smile, and she moved my hair away, then stretched further, lightly kissing my forehead. It felt good deep inside, and my smile widened as she pulled away.

"How could you do this to us, Gray? How could you just go ahead and marry someone else in our dream wedding..."

"I never have dreams with you, Samantha. And you should learn to shut the hell up if you are going to live in my house."

"Gray," she said tearily, but he only yanked his hand away from her grip, her nails digging into his shirt.

The shirt tore, and her nail drew blood from his skin. His brows furrowed, and he looked down at the injury, then to her, his eyes getting progressively darker.

"I will..."

"My wife will do it," he said, interrupting her. He turned to me, and I immediately nodded, excusing myself from Aunt Althea, who was just too happy to let me go. I covered the distance to Gray, and he held my hand, then turned away upstairs.

We had barely reached the foot of the stairs when Aunt Althea and Aunt Maurine's conjoint scream reached our ears, only a second after a large crashing thud.

We turned to see that Samantha had fainted, her head hitting the pillar behind her, her lips parted as she lay limp on the floor.

I turned to Gray, my eyes wide. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but he was still standing there, his teeth grinding hard against each other.

"f**k," he said under his breath, then covered the distance to her.

I watched as he carried her into his arms and rushed her upstairs, passing by me and leaving me right where I was at the foot of the stairs.

I blinked, then slowly looked down at my hand. It was still a little warm from the way he had held it, and I swallowed, then turned to the path they had taken.

Pushing down the nagging feeling that I might have to deal with this feeling of being an impostor in a home I had to accept as my own, I went upstairs behind them.

Gray was by the door, and he was on the phone with someone. Aunt Althea and Aunt Maurine were inside, tending to Samantha, who seemed to have regained consciousness.

He turned to me, then concluded the phone call, his eyes thin as he kept them fixed on mine. I made a move to walk into the room, but his hand grabbed my arm, stopping me in place.

"Gray, I..."

"Are you a doctor?"

"I just want to see how she is doing," I said, turning to the door. "She seemed hurt."

He sighed, letting me go. "And me?"

"What about you?" I asked, meeting his eyes.

He moved his arm slightly, and I looked down to it, my lips parting.

"I am sure you can..."

"I already don't feel like priority in this marriage." My eyes widened, but he didn't seem to care. "And I probably married a liar."

"Gray."

"Also," he said, putting his hand behind him. "She has a doctor on his way to see her. Do with that information what you wish."

I watched as he walked past me, his scent hitting me hard, my chest heaving. Of course, I had no business going to Samantha. But I had no business with Gray, too.

I turned to the door again. Both women were taking care of her, but all she kept saying was Gray's name. Is that the mistake I made? Not being selfish? And... I knew this would happen.

I looked down at my hand again, recalling the way Gray had let go of my hand to run to her. What if I got so immersed in the role of his wife, and one day... he just let go of my hand like this?

What if I kept choosing him and then one day, when I finally see this as home, he as my husband, when I finally let go of Kevin and settled into my life, when the kisses wouldn't feel like a mistake anymore.... what if he suddenly chose her then? What if just like Kevin... he walked away when I had given my all?

I stayed there for a while longer, till the doctor came and checked Samantha, all the while guilt gnawing at me. Once the doctor left, I stalked back to the room Gray and I shared.

It was dark inside, a stark contrast from the rest of the brightly illuminated house.

I thought he would probably be asleep, but the room seemed empty. I started to walk back to the door when I heard the clicking of a door.

Maybe the bathroom? I hadn't heard the shower.

I turned, and Gray slowly emerged, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. I blinked, taking a step back as I took him in rather unashamedly. He was chiselled, well built, and I now knew where all that anger was channelled into.

He looked up to me through his lashes and the curtain made by his own thin wet hair across his eyes.

"You finally decided to come."

I swallowed. "I am sorry. I will grab a first aid box."

He didn't reply, and I brushed past him breezily, looking for the first aid box. It turned out to be in the bathroom, and I grabbed it, then went back to Gray. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes watching the mirror keenly. I came to him, then stopped, unsure of where to sit. The only place where I could sit and still have access to his arm was a tiny space he had left for me that would eventually sandwich me between him and the end of the bed.

Knowing I had no other option, I squeezed myself in, then slowly started to open the box.

I could feel his eyes on me through every step, his breath hot against my skin, his body close. Way too close.

I tried to focus as I dabbed the cotton wool on his skin, but my hands were obviously shaky.

Suddenly, he grabbed my hand, holding my palm lightly in his. I looked up, my eyes meeting his, my chest heaving.

He let his eyes take me in for a while before he leaned closer, his eyes dark and intense.

"Gray..."

"Are you scared of me?" He asked slowly, his voice a mere whisper.

I met his eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to answer the question. Truth is, I was. I am.

I know he kept a gun. I know he was unpredictable. I know how angry he could get. And I knew how he tasted, too. That partly made me scared of him, too.

"Are you scared of me, Evangeline?"

I slowly nodded, averting his gaze. My plan was immediately thwarted as he brought his finger under my chin and raised my face to look at him.

"Don't be," he said softly, his eyes still as neutral as ever. It felt like I wasn't looking at the owner of the voice. "In this entire mansion, you are the only one who shouldn't be."

I swallowed. "Why?"

He let his fingers trail the inside of my palm, his eyes moving to follow the movement of his finger.

"Because I wish for it to be so. And you may be annoyingly naive, but I know what you have been through. You do not deserve fear, too."

I felt something inside of me crumble, and I leaned further, resting my head on his bare shoulder, my eyes closing. He said nothing to stop me, and it felt almost like we had formed an unconventional relationship of being there for each other. I just hoped it would last.