Shuffling through the dark, I finally made my way out of the hallway and into the enormous main room. Had it still been completely dark, I definitely would've twisted my ankle or tripped over something. But thankfully, the dim kitchen lights were on, and I was surprised to see Grayson leaning against the counter.
"What are you doing up?" I asked, wondering if he had a nightly routine of hiding in his own kitchen.
He gave me a tired smile. "Couldn't sleep, so I figured I'd get a glass of milk."
"You drink milk?" I asked, giving him a strange look.
He gave me one in return, noting, "It helps you sleep."
"Yeah...but it's gross," I pointed out. What psychopath just drinks straight-up milk?
"Well I rather like it," Grayson said staunchly, bringing the glass to his lips in defiance. "And I haven't exactly heard why you're awake, Miss Judgmental."
"Can't sleep," I said gruffly, opening the fridge. "Need a snack." I wasn't sure if a snack would actually solve my problems, since the truth was a much scarier thought to admit.
"We've got those fruit gummy snacks you like," he said, nodding to the cupboard—while also pouring himself yet another glass of milk. Weirdo.
"Oh, thanks," I said, except I didn't head to the cupboard. Instead I leaned on the counter across from him, staring blankly into space.
Grayson finally set down the milk, frowning. "You okay, Jacks?"
"Fine. You normally have trouble sleeping?" I asked, turning the conversation back on him.
He shuffled his bare feet. "Ah, no. Usually I'm out pretty quickly. But I've been trying to sleep for four hours and nothing's helped," he confessed.
"Huh." I didn't have much to say...considering I was going through the same thing. Briefly, I wondered if he had the same reasons for a lack of sleep, but then immediately swatted it away.
I dug out a string cheese from the fridge and munched on it, neither of us saying much more. Finally Grayson washed his milk glass and said, "I guess I'll go back to bed then. Night."
"Night," I said through a mouthful of cheese.
Things were almost safe when he stopped halfway through the living room. He quickly turned around and ran back to the kitchen, his hands jammed in his pajama pant pockets.
"Is there any tiny, minuscule chance you want to come sleep in my room?" Grayson asked, sounding a little stressed.
"I thought the whole point was that we don't have to sleep together," I said, my face only a little hot.
"Yeah, but if neither of us can sleep—you know, forget it. Pretend I didn't say anything," he said, abruptly changing his mind.
Hating myself, I called after him, "You sure you wouldn't mind?"
He turned and shook his head. "I-I think I've gotten used to having you right there," he said, blushing.
The milk was messing up his brain. "Okay, yeah," I said, finishing off my string cheese. At this point I was tired enough to try anything.
Before he got into bed next to me, I noticed that he set the temperature a little warmer. Choosing annoyance, I said, "What, you're too cold?"
"No, you're just usually shivering at night," Grayson said with a shrug, lying down next to me.
This was unnerving information. "You...noticed that," I said slowly.
"Yeah." He paused in getting comfy. "Is that weird?"
"Not really," I admitted. "Just didn't know you were that...I guess worried about me? I know that's the wrong word."
"Yeah. If it's too warm, let me know and I change it," he said, turning out his lamp.
"It's good now. Goodnight," I said, facing the door and closing my eyes.
"Night, Jacks," he said wearily. A few moments later, I had my answer for why I couldn't sleep alone: I'd gotten used to his breathing. Grayson didn't even snore, but for some reason I found the soft little inhale and exhale soothing.
You creep, I scolded myself. Talking about a man's breathing and whatnot.
But it was still nice.
The next morning, we decided not to discuss the events of last night, although I suspected our sleeping arrangements would be similar when we went to bed tonight. Thankfully, there wasn't really time to dwell on who had asked who to come snuggle, since we were going out.
Our first full day in Toronto was quite the adventure. It started out when Grayson tried to look chic. He pulled his white jeans out of the drier only to discover that he'd left his favorite blue pen in the back pocket. I was forced to trip into the wall with laughter while he was forced to stand in his underwear and contemplate the situation.
"Jackie, I really liked these pants!" he said in dismay.
"But-but they're all blooshy," I giggled, holding my stomach.
He grimaced. "You know what? I'm famous. It doesn't matter. It'll start a new trend or something. I may have to switch to the fashion industry."
I fell off my stool and choked on my scrambled eggs at this announcement.
Once he had put on the offending articles, we set out for the day. He had taken it off work to give us both a chance to get settled. Well, that's what he said, but I knew I was the only one needing settling. Grayson was fine in this happy town, devoid of Laura. He was even fine after the white jeans disaster.
"First let's get coffee," he said, pulling open the door of a cozy little cafe. I stepped inside and was greeted with the smell of hot roasted beans and peppermint.
"Is that Grayson Answell I see?" the barista asked. And...okay, I had to admit, he was cute. He had blonde hair that was brushed slightly over his brown eyes and a heavy sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He was about Grayson's height, except he wore a white t-shirt and coral bell-bottomed jeans. A horrifying comparison entered my mind: he was Clay, if Clay was taller, more surfer, and well, cuter.
"Good to see you, Tay," Grayson said, bro hugging him.
The first thing my mind said was: Gray, Clay, Tay. Haha. That's dorky. The second thing my mind said was said aloud. "Tay as in possible groomsman Tay?"
"Well now you've spoiled it for him," Grayson groaned playfully. Tay broke in and said, "Excuse me, possible? I thought I was the number one pick."
"You're dead last on the list," my husband deadpanned. Tay was mortally wounded. Grayson laughed and said, "I'm kidding, man, I'm totally asking you."
"Sweet. Is this the lovely bride, I assume?" his friend asked, winking flirtatiously and kissing the back of my hand. I blushed against my will, wishing he wasn't quite so attractive.
Grayson swatted his wrist. "Jackie, this is my best friend since primary school, Tayler Devreau. Tay, this is my wife who would appreciate a lack of flirting, Jackie Answell." When I coughed, he corrected himself, "Jackie Langford."
"A pleasure to meet you, dearie," he said, winking again. "Although you should've warned me how pretty she is, Grayson."
"Because that's what my attention is on right now," my husband said with a faint scowl. I could imagine how he, Tay, and Clay came to be friends: they all have some form of a moronic beast lying in their miniscule brains.
"Anyways, have a seat, I was just about to take my break," Tay said, taking off his apron. He balled it up and tossed it behind the counter, not really caring where it went. I was almost impressed with his carelessness. He pulled out my chair for me before Grayson could, which I made a point to say thank you to. Reverse-flirting with Grayson was fun. Or was I fake cheating? That's fun too.
"So, tell me, how did you manage to scoop up beautiful here when I don't think I've ever seen you with a girlfriend?" Tay asked, pulling three lattes out of nowhere.
Grayson blushed. "First of all, I've had a girlfriend. I've had a few. Secondly, don't call her beautiful. Well, she is, but don't make it a nickname."
"Bro, you need to chillax a bit," Tay said seriously. What year is this, 2003? Who uses chillax anymore? "Besides, she's married to you. Not sure why, but surely she's smart enough to turn me down for her own husband, who by the way has won Sexiest Man of the Year–twice."
"He has?" I blurted out, unable to repress the question.
Tay smirked. "Well, I mean, look at him. Every woman in North America is just dying for him. Heck, half the men too. He won when he was twenty and twenty-two. His twenty-two year old win was almost unanimous–"
"Tay, it's not important right now!" Grayson yelped, his face crimson with embarrassment.
"We are so talking about this when we get home," I whispered.
"We are never speaking of this again," he hissed before including Tay in the conversation again.
"Look, Tay, I'm just going to tell you the truth now because you're my best friend," Grayson said after slurping up his latte. "Jackie and I aren't exactly married for real. We're married, but on accident." I noticed he kept his voice down, not wanting any other coffee-drinkers to hear.
He went into the whole story, including the plan to foil Laura. Tay was a great listener, being quiet and thoughtful–or at least that's what I thought he was doing. The second Grayson was done explaining, he slowly said, "So...what I'm hearing is that you'll be single come this January, Jackie."
"Holy Toledo," Grayson cursed, dragging his hands down his face.
I hated that I knew I was blushing. "Newly divorced," I corrected.
"Oh, it doesn't matter to me," Tay said, his smile so...I don't even know how to describe it. Cute? Mischievous? Devilish? All of the above?
Grayson snapped his fingers in front of his friend's face. "Tay! The information that you need to be focusing on is that we need another groomsman. Are you willing?"
"What date? I have plans," he said, pulling out his phone to check his calendar.
Grayson gave him a look. "You never have plans."
"I might. With a certain Miss Langford," he said casually. STOP BLUSHING! I ordered myself.
"You know what? If you can't hold your flirty little mouth around the bride of all people, maybe I should find someone else," Grayson said, abruptly standing up.
Tay burst into laughter. "Okay, okay, no need to get so worked up. I'm messing with you, Jackie. You seem great for my buddy–who by the way is acting like a grouchy pufferfish."
"I am not a grouchy pufferfish," Grayson grumbled, sitting down again with his arms crossed.
"He's jealous. Rightfully so," Tay whispered loudly.
"We're not actually together, so I can't be jealous," Grayson reasoned.
"Trust me, I think you can be," I said under my breath. Stupid man didn't understand just how attached he was to me.
"Okay, so, I'll get a tux, fly on out to Vancouver in January, help Grayson get fancy schmancy for his big day, then head home so you guys can go on your honeymoon," Tay said, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head.
Just please try to hide it from my parents," Grayson begged. "If they find out..."
"Relax, I got your back," he said seriously. "Yours too, Jackie. If either of you guys need anything while you're here, call me."
"Thanks, man, you're a hero," Grayson said, looking mildly relieved.
Tay looked up at the clock on the wall. "Well, I have to get back to my shift, otherwise I'll get fired and we all know that's bad!" he said with a laugh that was either super fun or super pained. I couldn't tell. "Grayson, I will call you later to discuss things. Bro things. Jackie, it was a delight to meet you." He blew both of us kisses before heading back to work.
"He's nice," I said as Grayson and I put on our coats again and headed outside.
"He's a good guy," he agreed.
I nudged him in the ribs. "Sexiest man of the year award, huh?"
"Oh, shut up," he said, mortified again. "It's not like I was happy with it."
"Really? Because I think you'd love to hold it over my head if you weren't so embarrassed," I said gleefully.
His blush was kind of cute. "I wouldn't! It's weird!"
"It's not weird, it's—" I stopped before I could get myself in trouble.
There was that annoying grin. "It's what?" he asked, smirking.
"Nothing!" I said. Now it was my turn to blush.
"Sure," he laughed, pulling into the parking ramp of his office.
I hesitated, choosing further embarrassment when I asked, "Um, so..."
"You want to know how single Tay is."
"Oh my gosh," I groaned, closing my eyes.
"That's what you were going to ask," Grayson accused.
"I mean not with that wording, but yes," I mumbled.
He parked the car but didn't open his door. "Tay is Tay. You've pretty much seen most of him. Wears his heart on his sleeve. If you're looking for a rebound husband, he's a good pick," Grayson said seriously.
"But?" I asked.
"But nothing. I mean, it's obvious you've got a huge crush on him," he said, grinning.
"That obvious?" I needed to get better at this stuff. Preferably before the next time I got married.
"Yeah. It's pretty obvious. He's interested too, by the way," Grayson said, casually choosing to get out at that moment.
"Wait!" I jumped out of the car, not wanting him to just leave me hanging. "Like...you wouldn't mind?"
He flashed me his devious grin. "You guys can't get caught. And I mean, can't get caught even going out to dinner. The press will have a field day and my parents will find out. But other than that, shoot your shot."
Being invisible to the press didn't sound that hard. "Maybe I'll ask him if I can come in for coffee tomorrow and I can hang out," I decided.
Grayson smiled (normally, not wickedly) and said, "Good luck, Jackie. I'll see you later, okay?" I think he was proud of me for slowly coming out of my shell.
"Bye, have a good day at work," I said, getting in the driver's seat.
While Grayson was off adventures titled "paperwork" and "finances," I was off on adventures titled "Target" and "looking fabulously single." Exploring Toronto with Grayson would've been fun, especially since he actually knew the city, but going on my own was a relief. Finally I was back to being the girl who could effortlessly navigate any new situation—even in another country.
For the first time in months, things were finally looking up.