A Little Bit Married

Just Who I Am

For a long while, I just stood there, Gray's hands gently patting my hair down, my face buried in his chest. I became increasingly aware of our positions as the pain slowly subsided, and the extreme proximity pushed whatever Ava had caused to the back of my mind.

I slowly looked up, my lips parting as I met his eyes. He wasn't looking at me, and his eyes were closed, his lips slightly pursed.

I took the chance to watch him instead, feeling the gentle pats on my back, the way he moved slowly, like he was in a world of his own.

Maybe this was always meant to happen. Like we were always meant to meet. Maybe we were always going to end up right here, in this restroom, his hands around me.

Maybe we were always meant to share those kisses last night, and I was meant to love the rare smile he gave me. Maybe all of this was written in the stars, and it made me wonder what the passing days would bring for us.

Would I come to accept a destiny that I had no hand in writing? A destiny that had spiralled out of control so fast and pulled the rug from under my feet, everything I had ever known crumbling to pieces right in front of my eyes?

Gray suddenly moved, his eyes opening as he met mine. His lips parted, and I saw something pass quickly in his eyes. He gave a small sigh as he moved his hands from around me and gently cupped my face again.

My eyes closed as I leaned into his warmth. As for now, it was the most familiar thing I had to fall back on. And the most dependable.

"Let me return the favour," he whispered slowly, and my brows furrowed as I struggled to understand what favour he was talking about.

My confusion didn't last too long, however, as he leaned, kissing the tears right beneath my eyes away, his thumb stroking my cheek. I clung u to him like an abandoned cub, and my teeth slightly gritted behind parted lips.

The tears acted on their own and streamed even faster, and Gray, the man that he is, stayed right there, gently kissing my tears away, till all I could feel on my cheeks were the tingles from the warmth of his lips.

It felt incredible and perfect, and when he finally pulled away, quite satisfied with the work he had done on my face, he gave me a small smile.

Not quite as big as the one he had when he handed me his half eaten croissant, but just as extra terrestrial. Just as perfect.

I gave him a small nudge on his shoulder. "Stop doing that."

He tilted his head to the right. "Doing what?"

"Smiling at me."

His eyes filled with amusement. "What would my wife prefer, then?"

I nudged him again. "Don't do that too."

"What?" He asked again, his voice breaking in what seemed to be a mirthful laugh.

"Calling me your wife."

"But you are my wife," he defended, a snicker leaving his lips. "But fine, what would you prefer, Angeline?"

I swallowed, my eyes averting his gaze, my chest heaving. "That."

He raised a brow and leaned closer to me, his brows furrowing slightly. "What?"

I cleared my throat. "I would prefer you call me that."

He gave a small laugh as he cupped my chin, forcing me to keep eye contact. "Angeline?"

I swallowed, feeling my throat go dry. Heat rose up to my cheeks from the proximity and the rather personal way he was holding me, and I hated that I couldn't even bring myself to look away. Maybe my body had forgotten its self-preservation instincts, but here we are, soul and body, diving straight into those warn, grey pools, knowing very well that we couldn't swim.

I nodded slowly, and he watched me, humour and something else diluting the more normal darkness in his eyes.

"Angeline it is, then."

His voice was a somewhat low whisper, and I colored again, then averted my eyes.

"Do you feel better?" He suddenly asked, and I straightened, nodding.

"I am sorry for dragging you here."

He pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "I would have come with you if you hadn't."

I found myself colouring again, and he chuckled and turned away. At this point, I was sure my shyness meter was broken cause why was I getting so easily affected by everything he said?

"We should go. You still need to get your hair done."

"I don't think I can sit there with Ava there."

"Oh, trust me, she won't be."

Before I could ask what he meant, he took my hand, pulling me away from the wall. I followed him obediently, and we walked back out to the salon.

An elegantly dressed woman was now standing in the middle of the fiasco, the attendants standing around, while Ava was on her knees, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

I probably would have pitied her if she hadn't been so openly vile about what she did. If she held some sort of remorse. If she had some sort of regret. She had none, and I couldn't bring myself to pity her either.

"It's an honour, Gray Gavin," the elegantly dressed woman said, extending a hand that Gray did not take. She retrieved her hand and then gave a smile. "I heard there a little mishap with one of my employees here, and I would like to resolve this by..."

"Firing her. That's the only way."

She took in a deep breath. "I understand your grievances, but firing her might be a little too extreme as this is the first time she is doing something like this, and is normally very professional..."

Gray nodded, and she stopped talking, her eyes hopeful. I knew Gray enough to know that he was never compromising. It would be his way or no way.

"You are the...?"

She extended her hand to him. "Michelle Spears. Manager of..."

"You mean Ex manager, Michelle. Ex."

Her smile fell as her hand slowly dropped again.

"What... do you mean? I am the current...."

"Ex," he said again, his voice calm. "You are the ex manager."

She gave a small sigh. "I have tried to be cordial, but I will not allow you to threaten to take away my job. Who are you to make that call?"

"Now we are asking the real questions," Gray said before pulling out his phone. "Let's see just who I am."

A shiver ran down my spine as a phone started to ring.