Page 84 of Capturing Love

“Gray?” It must be bad.

“She wants to meet you.”

My eyes bulged. “What?!”

Grayson chuckled. “Don’t worry, Christmas isn’t for another month, so we’ll have some time to prepare.”

“Christmas!” I struggled to breathe. “Christmas with your family? Noooo, there is no way I’m going to LA to spend Christmas with a bunch of people I already know aren’t going to approve of me.”

Grayson shrugged. “That’s fine, because they’re coming here. We spend Christmas with my Grandfather in the Hamptons.”

Shit.

“But I have Luci. I can’t leave him alone.”

“We’ll bring him. The property is huge. He’ll love it.”

“Gray…”

His eyes softened. “Josie, it’ll be okay.”

I tried not to hyperventilate.

Grayson winced, clearly remembering something. “We have one problem though.”

I laughed nervously. “Just one?”

“Adam will be there.”

My eyes rolled back and my head fell onto the chair. “I guess that means you’ll have to tell him.”

A smile crept over his lips. “So, you’ll come?”

I groaned. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really, no,” he said with a glint in his eye.

“Just don’t tell them any more about me.”

“Why not? They’re going to find out anyway.”

“I know, but I want them to know as much about me as I do about them. It’s only fair. Plus, I don’t fancy being followed by a private investigator for the next month.”

Grayson chuckled. “They’re not the FBI, Jos.” Then his laughter faded. “Actually, you’re right. It is something they would do.”

* * *

Due to Adam’s disregard for privacy, we rarely stayed at Grayson’s apartment. But when Adam was out of town, we lapped up the luxury. As much as it was nice to be in an apartment with furniture, the whole place weirded me out. It was too perfect. Just to feel more comfortable, I deliberately threw cushions on the floor and rearranged the colour coded bookshelf. Anything to make the place look lived in.

A couple of weeks before Christmas, Grayson and I spent the day on his couch, both catching up on work while playing footsies in the middle.

“Have you told Adam yet?” I asked when Grayson slammed his cell phone back on the coffee table for the seventh time in the last hour.

“I was hoping to tell him this week, but he extended his trip. I’m not complaining though. My couch is slightly more comfortable than yours.”

I poked out my tongue, and he grinned before refocusing on his laptop. Not a minute passed before Grayson’s phone buzzed again and he scowled down at it.

“Who are you avoiding?” I asked, becoming even more curious.