Smiling, Bray shook his head and then looked me straight in the eye before he spoke. “My mom got disowned for marrying an African-American cardiac surgeon.”
Ah. I got it. Dutch society blue blood on one side and African-American on the other. I could just envision the scandal that might have caused. Amongst my parents set in Jackson, it would have been more than just grist for the gossip mill. All of society would have shunned the poor woman, and she would have forever been talked about in whispers.
“Wow, her family just abandoned her?” I felt terrible for his mother.
“No. Not everyone. Just my grandfather, who is a well-known racist and bigot and keeps everyone in line by threatening to cut them out of the will. My grandmother and my uncle, my mom’s brother, never severed ties. But the old man cut her out of a serious inheritance.”
“That’s crazy, but really cool that she walked away from it for love.” My heart was swooning. It was like abdicating a throne or something.
“Yeah, well, my dad makes enough that it isn’t like she was plunged into poverty.”
“Have you ever met your grandfather?” I couldn’t imagine a life without my grandparents in it.
“Nope. Never.”
“Well that’s his loss.” I was indignant. How could he not want to meet his own grandson just because he was biracial?
He was staring straight ahead, and I had a feeling the hurt went deeper than I could ever imagine or than he would ever admit.
“That’s what my mom says. She also says that my never having met him is no great loss.”
“And you? What do you think?” I reached out and slipped my hand in his.
Turning to look me in the eyes, he tightened his fingers around my hand and shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s just curiosity or if I just want to have the chance to tell him that I’m just as good as his other grandchildren.”
“What a jerk.” It was out of my mouth before I could stop it.
Bray burst into laughter. “My, my, Misty Davis. That is the last thing I expected out of your sweet Southern mouth.”
I was glad he couldn’t see the heat rise in my face, because I was sure I was beet red. Still, I was mad as hell. What kind of grandparent refused to meet their own grandchild? And in that moment, my stomach knotted because I knew both my grandparents, and my parents, would react the same way. They would totally pass judgment without ever getting to know him. I suddenly felt sick.
“What about your grandmother?” I asked.
“I’ve met my grandmother. We see her a few times a year. And my uncle and his family are around all the time. So, I do know my cousins from that side of the family. It’s just the old man.”
“Jerk,” I repeated to make Bray laugh.
And he did, throwing in a shoulder bump for good measure.
“What about your dad’s family? Where is he from?” I wondered if it would be as juicy as the disowned heiress.
“My dad . . .” He turned to me and smiled. “My dad is from Harlem.”
Bray’s reaction told me I had not done a good job of keeping a poker face. His green eyes widened in surprise, and then I was gifted with another flash of his dimples.
“You’re picturing the mean streets. My dad at twelve, flipping open a switchblade, fighting for his life. Oh, Mississippi Misty—” He paused as if in deep thought and then raised an eyebrow at me. “Hmm, I think I’ll shorten that to Miss-Mis. So, Miss-Mis, Harlem is actually really cool. A lot of the blocks are brownstones that are very nice. Pretty much looks like where I live on the Upper East Side. People think it’s the slum, and it has quite the reputation, but it’s actually just another neighborhood. I mean, yeah, there are rough areas, but there are some really beautiful ones, too. My grandma still lives there.”
“Are you close to her?”
“She’s my girl.” The pride and love in his voice was unmistakable.
“It sounds like someone’s been spoiled by his grammy.”
“Oh, no doubt. She was a single mom, raising two kids. Always worked two jobs. Her thing was to make sure my dad and my aunt got a good education.”
“She sounds like a smart lady and your dad definitely did well in school.”
“Yeah, he’s something of a Brainiac and definitely has that God complex that doctors have.” Bray paused, the look on his face told me he was taking a moment to formulate what he was about to say next. “So, Miss-Mis, let me ask you something. Have you met many people like me before?”
His bluntness took me aback. The elephant had been led to the center of the room.
“Like you, meaning . . .”
“Parents of different races,” he clarified.
My first inclination was to deny it and tell him that he was just like the people I knew back home, but somehow, I knew he’d see right through me.
“My school and my neighborhood are mostly . . .” I had no idea how to address this in a way that didn’t make me come across as uppity and sheltered.
“White?”
Wanting more than anything to look away, I forced myself to look directly into his eyes, and nodded.
Squeezing my hand, he admitted, “So are mine. But I think it might be less of a big deal in New York City than in Jackson, Mississippi.” Pausing for a moment, he added, “Or Connecticut.”
“Jerk.” I knew that would make him laugh.
“Are you going to keep surprising me with that sassy Southern mouth?”
I responded with a playful shrug.
After that, we sat in silence for a long time, my hand still nestled in his. I wondered what was going through his head and hoped he didn’t think I was too different. If I were to tell Mother and Daddy that I’d met the son of a wealthy socialite and a cardiac surgeon, they would love that. I just feared what their response would be if they learned his father was African-American. But I already knew the answer to that.
I think Bray did as well.
Silently, I cursed the differences in our lives because I knew for sure that Bray Hamilton and I had much more in common than not, and at the top of that list was our deep attraction to one another.
Bray took my hand in his and then wrapped his other arm around my waist to help steady me as we made our way down from the boulder. I felt his body against mine for the briefest of moments, and I craved more. I needed to feel him again. It wasn’t a want. It was a need. I needed more moments.
“How tall are you?” I asked once my feet were back on the ground and I found myself looking up at him.
“I’m about five eleven.” He linked our hands back together and turned toward the trail that would lead us back to the campfire.
We walked along the path in silence for a few minutes before Bray began to speak again. “I really love that shirt, Misty.”
I could feel the heat rising from my bare shoulders to my cheeks, glad the night air was cool enough to chill them down and provide camouflage in the darkness. I certainly wasn’t going to admit that I wore this shirt, probably the only sexy thing in my entire wardrobe, in hopes that he would notice me. Mission accomplished. I was playing with fire. And it was exciting. And scary.
“Thank you,” I responded to his compliment. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Like it? Miss-Mis, it’s driving me crazy.”
“My shoulders are driving you crazy?” I laughed.
Suddenly, he stopped and tugged my hand until we were off the path and I was pressed against him. I held my breath as I let my body feel his muscular frame.
This is it. He’s going to kiss me.
But Bray Hamilton took me by surprise when his lips ended up on my bare right shoulder, sending a shiver down my spine.
“I’ve been dying to do that all night,” he admitted.
I’ve been dying for you to kiss me all night.
I wanted to tell him that, but it was too forward.
His head dipped down again, and this time, his lips landed in the crook of my neck. “I’ve been dying to do that, too.”
My breath caught in the base of my throat because what he had just done to me was more exciting than anything I’d read in a book or seen in a movie.