Maybe Memphis (Bishop Family Book 3) Page 10

  Mrs. Fisher was an overwhelming personality. She introduced herself and her husband, and then she introduced the blonde as Leila, her goddaughter, who was also a very successful pediatrician. That seemed unbelievable to me since the girl didn't look a day over 22. I went through the motions of greeting everyone and sitting at the dinner table with them even though it felt like I was in a dream.

  ***

  "Did you know Leila plays the harp?" Mrs. Fisher asked at the dinner table.

  Really? A harp? Who plays the harp? Where do you even buy harp?

  I could barely contain a frustrated sigh. This latest announcement about Leila was preceded by at least a dozen other announcements about her charity works, her pediatric practice, and what good grades she made in college. I think she may have even mentioned that Leila graduated high school at 16.

  This would explain why she was not only a "kid doctor" but also a doctor who was a kid.

  I had to make jokes like this in my head to keep myself from slinging mashed potatoes at Mrs. Fisher and Leila both.

  "No ma'am," Gray said. "I didn't know she played the harp." He looked at Leila. "A harpist? Is that a word?"

  Leila giggled and nodded.

  "She's quite accomplished. She won the IGHA award this year," Mrs. Fisher added.

  Everyone congratulated her, and I balled my fists under the dinner table while still maintaining a smile.

  How can one person possibly do so many things? Seriously, that woman must have shamelessly listed 20 major life-accomplishments—like the girl was a contestant on the Miss America pageant or something.

  But, when it came down to it, the woman's actions served their purpose. With every compliment paid to Leila, my confidence dwindled.

  Suddenly, I questioned everything.

  Suddenly, I started wondering why Gray would want a music teacher from Memphis when he could have this award-winning harpist, genius, pediatrician, blonde model robot who was probably also a fitness instructor. She was exactly the type of woman the directors had wanted to pair him with in the sitcom, and I feared that it was because everyone but me knew she was the kind of woman Gray needed.

  I was contemplating the sitcom when Debbie mentioned it. "Did we tell you Gray's gonna be acting in that show with Kevin?" she asked.

  Mrs. Fisher gasped and put a hand to her chest. "You sure didn't!" she said.

  "It's just a pilot right now," Gray said. "And I'm not even sure about doing it. They're looking at some rewrites, but if they can't make them, they'll just find somebody else to play me."

  Debbie glanced at him with surprise and concern. "Oh, they're still trying to work you into the show? I didn't know that. I thought it was a done deal."

  "No mom, I'm just not sure that I'm going to do it, that's all. I'm not really an actor."

  "Well, I'm sorry to hear that. I thought you were already moving forward with it." She appeared sad with a questioning expression on her face. The whole situation made me feel awkward and embarrassed. I was tempted to stand up and walk out and tell Gray to leave everything the way it was.

  "We still have some stuff to work out," Gray said, reasonably. "And either way it's just a pilot."

  "Well, we won't tell your brother that…" she said, smiling at everyone in an effort to wrap up this awkward moment.

  Toward the end of dinner, I pretty much did no talking at all. I imagined Gray dating and marrying someone, and I talked myself into believing he would be much better off finding someone like Leila rather than me.

  They could go to concerts and nightclubs and do things together that young, unobligated people did. Gray deserved that after everything he had sacrificed overseas. He deserved to have a non-complicated life after everything he had been through. He didn't need someone who required him to be an instant dad, and he didn't need a commute to Memphis.

  These two things made Leila a much better match for Gray, and I knew it.

  By the end of dinner, I knew I would leave him, and it broke my heart. It was for his own good that I had to do it, and my heart felt broken at the realization.

  I smiled, carrying on conversations, and pretending everything was okay, until dinner was over and the Fishers finally left. We all walked them to the door to say goodbye. Gray's mom mumbled a vague, apologetic comment about not knowing Mrs. Fisher was going to go on and on about her goddaughter before turning to head back into the house.

  Gray and I lingered in the foyer.

  I felt overwhelmed with doubt and frustration.

  "You want to come with me to get your stuff out of the truck?" he asked as if everything was fine.

  "No," I said. "I'm just gonna go back to the hotel—" I barely took the time to finish my sentence before switching gears to yell at his parents before they got too far away to hear me. "Thank you so much for dinner!" I called to them. "It was delicious, and it was really nice to meet you both."

  "Aw, it was nice meeting you too, sweetie," Debbie said, stopping in her tracks to say goodbye.

  "Jane, I thought you were—"

  I stopped Gray mid-sentence, by turning to him with a serious expression.

  He looked at his mom. "She's not going home. She's trying to go to a hotel. This is Jane from Memphis, Mom."

  "Jane from Memphis?" she asked, stunned. "You're kidding! You mean the girl you—"

  "Yes, mom, that girl. Jane. Jane Bishop."

  "Oh, my goodness. How'd you end up in Illinois, sweetheart?"

  I gave her a smile but I knew it seemed forced because I was completely overwhelmed. I already had it in my mind that I was leaving, and I was honestly mad at Gray for complicating that.

  "I wanted to come by and meet you guys, but I've got a little stomach ache. It's not the food. That was great. I was feeling ill before we ate." This was not a lie. I truly did have a stomachache. I touched my midsection just to emphasize the point. "I'm going to head back to my hotel, but it was really nice to meet you, and I appreciate you inviting me to dinner. You've got a lovely home."

  I wasn't messing around, and they all knew it. Gray seemed disappointed, but he didn't argue. Debbie hugged me, and Alan came over and patted my shoulder, and the next thing I knew, Gray and I we're in his truck headed down the road.

  "What's the matter, Jane? I thought you were going to spend the night at my house. You already checked out of the hotel."

  "So I'll check back in," I said.

  "Jane, why?"

  "Why do you think, Gray?"

  "Because the Fishers came over for dinner?" he asked. "That's ridiculous."

  "No, it's not. It changes everything."

  "How?"

  "Because that woman they were trying to serve you on a silver platter is extremely perfect, Gray. You deserve someone like that. She's young, single, unattached and fresh, and she has no children. Plus she lives here."

  "Don't do this, Jane."

  "I'm not trying to say that I'm a terrible person or anything. I'm just looking at the obvious, and she is a good fit for you, Gray. A good match."

  I felt a crushing sensation in my chest when those words came out of my mouth, but they had to be said. It was true; she was good for him.

  "You need to date someone like her so y'all can go to fancy restaurants and concerts, and live your life up here in Chicago by your parents. You need to go star on your brother's show and play whatever role they give you without worrying about some jealous girl telling you not to kiss your co-stars. I don't know why we asked your brother to rewrite stuff. That's just crazy. We shouldn't have done that. I feel terrible. You need to call them and tell him you'll do it like it was. Obviously, they cast you with that type of girl because they thought it was good."

  "I don't want to do it like it was, Jane, because that means you'll end up kissing my brother."

  He glanced at me from across the front seat, and I grimaced at him like he was missing something totally obvious.

  "I'm not doing the show," I said. "I can't. I have responsibilities. I can't pick up
and move my life to Chicago just to film a stupid pilot. I have a daughter, and a house, and a job, and tenants. I don't know what I was thinking."

  I felt mad about everything.

  Mostly, I felt mad at myself for being so naïve.

  Gray was a man in his prime. He was a military hero and an all-around hero type in every other aspect. Of course he would have friends and family members clamoring to set him up as soon as he got back home.

  I was mad at myself for assuming I could just waltz in and magically win his heart with no drama or struggle. I was mad at myself for not saying better things in front of his parents. I was mad at myself period.

  Chapter 15

  "Why are you pulling over?" I asked.

  I was experiencing a wave of pure panic, like we couldn’t possibly get to the hotel fast enough.

  In fact, I thought maybe Gray could just go ahead and drop me off at the airport. I had already decided I couldn't have him, and I felt as though I had to flee from him at the earliest opportunity so that I could begin nursing my broken heart.

  "Why are you pulling over?" I asked again.

  I was short of breath. I actually feared my lungs weren't functioning properly—like things were going medically wrong with me. I tried to roll down his window, but it was my first time trying to do that in his truck, and I couldn’t figure out the right button.

  Gray had come to a stop by this point, so I just opened the door and stepped out of the truck. I didn't think I had any other choice. I honestly thought I needed fresh air or I would pass out right there in the seat.

  He had parked in front of a laundromat. I could see inside. The washers and dryers were shades of turquoise. It was clean in there and had a vintage look that seemed inviting yet sterile. I went inside and crossed the room where I sat in one of the chairs near the back. I plopped into a seat, staring into the only dryer that had clothes in it.

  It was full of white stuff, like towels and T-shirts and socks. Gray came inside and sat next to me, staring straight ahead at the dryer like I was doing. We sat there for half-a-minute or so.

  "Do you need to do some laundry, Jane?" he asked.

  "No. Sorry. I had a thing where I felt anxious for a second," I said. "I thought I was gonna pass out."

  I still thought I was gonna pass out, actually. My heart was still beating out of control, and my chest was still tight, but I had endured a few such nervous attacks before, and I knew there was ultimately nothing wrong with me. I breathed steady, regular breaths and begged myself to keep it together. I stared at the tumbling clothes thinking, you can make it, you can make it.

  Gray reached out to hold my hand, and I slipped mine out from under his. I shook my head, glancing at him regretfully.

  "What's the matter?" he asked.

  He was so handsome, sincere, and sweet, and I squinted, trying not to cry.

  "I don't know. I guess I just realized how crazy this all was. I think I would hate myself in the long run if I caused you to miss out on stuff like that."

  "Stuff like what?" he asked.

  "Like harpists."

  Gray pulled back and regarded me with an expression that was both confused and agitated. "Is that how it goes, Jane? Some woman brings her granddaughter or whatever, to my house and that's it, everything's over with us?"

  I gave him a sad smile. "It's more complicated than that, and you know it."

  "How? How is it more complicated?"

  "I don't know, I guess it's just that seeing her made me realize you can have something different than me."

  "That's terrible, Jane. I can't believe you even say something like that about yourself. That's not the Jane I know. That's not the person who gets up on stage and commands an audience. That's not the Jane who had those directors and my brother drooling over you—who has me drooling over you."

  Gray shifted in his chair so that he could stare at me more fully.

  "Where's that Jane?" he asked. "And how did dinner with the Fishers steal her from me?"

  "I'm still Jane, I just… I live in Memphis, Gray. I have a life there. Responsibilities. You don't need that right now. You don't need to go from all that junk in Kuwait to a new set of responsibilities. It's not fair to you."

  I paused and sighed, gathering my thoughts.

  "Let's face it, Gray, it's not a friendship that you and I have going here. We couldn't even let each other give someone else a little peck on the lips for a television sitcom."

  He shook his head impassively. "No way I was gonna watch you do that with my brother. No way."

  "See? We're not staying friends. We keep doing stuff like getting jealous and holding hands and kissing. We stink at being friends."

  "Then, good. Let's not be friends, Jane. I don't see the problem."

  I shook my head, staring straight into the dryer. Medically I was feeling better—not quite as deathly nauseated or tight chested, but I still felt overwhelmed. I couldn't believe we were sitting in the middle of a laundromat. I began to look around, feeling a little bit like I was waking up. I took a deep breath.

  "I love my life," I said. "I don't want you to think I'm ashamed of myself or anything, because ultimately, I am happy with my life. I'm happy with who I am. It's just that I'm afraid if I—"

  "Nothing," he said. "You should be afraid of nothing. So, maybe you and your little girl have to travel to Chicago a little bit while you do a TV show. Maybe you have to live here a little. Earlier, it seemed like you were okay with it."

  "I was but that's before I realized what a hindrance all my plans would be to you."

  "Don't say that," he said.

  "I'd be mad at myself, Gray. I would never be able to quit thinking that you're doing it because you think you're obligated to Seth."

  He stared at me, scanning my face as if trying to gauge his own feelings and figure out a way to put them into words.

  "You know what Jane? That's just wrong, and you know it. I am not hanging out with you for Seth's sake. My feelings for you have nothing to do with Seth Shelby. And if you think I'm gonna let you just get mad and leave me over some girl Madeline Fletcher brought over to my Mom's house, then you've got another thing coming."

  His eyes roamed to my mouth, and my stomach flipped, taking my breath away. I thought he might kiss me right then, so I glanced around to see if anyone was watching. There was no one else around, only the tumbling laundry.

  I glanced again at Gray, feeling hope rise in my chest by how determined he seemed to not let me go. He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, looking at me intently.

  "I'm really dreading putting you on a plane tomorrow," he said. "Please let's not waste the time between now and then."

  "I'm dreading it too," I said.

  He smiled. "I know. You're dreading it so much you're trying to run off and never see me again."

  "I was doing it for your own good."

  "My good?" He said, putting his hand to his chest. "You're running off and getting all mad at me for my sake?"

  I nodded. "Yes, I was," I said. "Seriously, it was completely for your sake. I didn't want you to miss out on going to the opera, or sports events, or the symphony."

  "What does that even mean?"

  "It means my life is birthday parties and hamburger macaroni. I want you to see the symphony and do normal stuff that single people do."

  "And you think if I date you instead of that girl I won't be able to do things like that?"

  I shrugged with a shy nod.

  "You're wrong, and you know you are," he said, trying to call my bluff. "You're just trying to run away because you're scared of getting hurt."

  "In my mind, I thought it was for your own good, though. I didn't mean to run away just to make you chase after me. I'm not just trying to create drama—I'm not that type of girl. I really thought you needed me to do it."

  He stared at me. "I know what type of girl you are, Jane. That's exactly why I'm not letting you go."

  "What if they rewrite the s
how for us?" I asked.

  "Then that'll be wonderful," he said. "We'll act in the show, and play ourselves, and it won't matter how many times we have to kiss on camera."

  "What about Shelby?"

  "We'll make it work. We could get you a place over here. Maybe we could get something close to my mom so she could help. I haven't really thought about it. But if it works out, and you want to take the job, then you just find a way to make it happen. People move all the time."

  "And what happens if they won't do the rewrites?" I asked.

  Gray shook his head and tossed a hand into the air. "Then, I do something besides star in a television show, which would be great, honestly. I have other things I'd like to do."

  "Could you do them in Memphis?" I asked.

  He glanced around with a little smirk as if he was relieved by my question and took it as a challenge. "If that's what it takes to get what I want."

  "What do you want?" I asked.

  "You know what I want," he said, shifting in his seat and regarding me seriously. He leaned toward me, and his proximity left me breathless. I bit my lip to keep from smiling. Gray put his cheek next to mine, letting our faces gently brush as he breathed in through his nose, smelling me. He rubbed my cheek again with the side of his face before he pulled back to stare down at me.

  "What were we saying?" I asked, blinking at him.

  "That the direction of my brother's sitcom was of no consequence to us other than the way it affects our geographic location."

  I thought for a second about what that meant, and then smiled at him before glancing around at the room. "At this very second, we're geographically pretty ideal," I said.

  "What? You like watching clothes spin around?"

  "No. I mean, it's a nice enough place and everything, but I just meant that we were both in Illinois right now."