“What is?” she asked.
“Knowing that all these people cared for Anton the way I did. I didn’t even know he knew them. They never came around when I was here.”
“Maybe they didn’t have to. Maybe he went to them,” she said.
“Maybe. They all have stories, you know? Stories that make him happy, just like he made me happy.”
“Are you worried that it somehow diminishes the relationship you had with him?”
I stopped inside the house as her question blanketed my mind. In an odd way, yes. I thought I’d been special to him. Taken in by a quiet man who didn’t have anyone. I had thought we were kindred spirits like that. He didn’t have anyone, I didn’t have anyone. So we didn’t have anyone together. But seeing how he impacted the community—how he impacted Michelle—almost made me wonder if I was ever special to him at all.
Or, if I was just another project.
“Look at me, Gray.”
My gaze fell to hers and I lost myself in her emerald eyes.
“Many people have memories of Anton. I have memories of him. And many people loved him. He was obviously a major cog within this community. But there was only one person he trusted to settle his estate. He only had one godson, Gray.”
Her words were comforting. Delightful, even.
I was beginning to see why Anton had taken her in.
The last route we drove, Michelle took a more active role. She got out with me at every stop and helped me through the last of the deliveries. She hugged people’s necks and brought smiles to their sad faces. She dried their tears with her fingers and kissed their foreheads, comforting them in their own time of grief. I saw a genuine outpouring of affection from her. An affection I’m sure she bestowed upon Anton many times.
Oh yes. I could definitely see why Anton was quick to let her in.
Michelle was beautiful and smart. Efficient in her work. She’d obviously been dealt a rough hand, otherwise Anton wouldn’t have let her stay with him on various occasions. And with every person we came into contact with, I watched her sympathize with their pain. I watched an empathy flow from her that not many people in this world had. But those people who did possess that trait all had one thing in common.
The hand they’d been dealt in life had been rough.
I wondered what her hand consisted of.
We drove back to the house in silence after the deliveries were complete. I took the wheel this time and Michelle sat there, staring out the window. All at once, the women I’d known in my life flooded my mind. The women who came onto me when I was playing in the NFL. How they tried to seduce me and hook me with the temptation of their bodies. I thought about how those women quickly disappeared after my injury, when I was fighting through my concussion. All of them said they cared, until I couldn’t whip out my wallet and pay for their dinners. Until I couldn’t fuck them stupid in their own beds. Until I couldn’t get up out of a bed to purchase them diamonds, rubies and golden rings.
I studied the lines of Michelle’s body. She was exactly the type of woman I’d pounce on. Thick. Curvy. A nice smile and plump lips. A thick head of hair to hang onto while I tore up her body, and curves that jiggled for my viewing pleasure.
Another wave of women came blasting to the forefront of my mind. The kind of women that flocked to me after my success at the vineyard.
They were of a higher caliber. Came from richer families. But they were still the same. Still gold-digging women. In their world, their merit was based on the physical pleasure they could bring a man, and my merit was based on the amount of money I could spend on any one given date with them. If I didn’t take them on my private jet to Italy for a special pasta dish for our first date, I wasn’t worth the time or the energy. I wasn’t worth the time they spent in the gym toning their bodies, and I wasn’t worth the hundreds of thousands spent on plastic surgery they pumped themselves with to look a certain way.
I pul
led into the driveway and turned the car off, continuing to run my eyes along her form.
She didn’t have the fake nails or the layers of makeup. She didn’t have the dyed hair or the expensive jewelry. She didn’t give a shit about fashion and, based on our early interactions, she had no idea who I even was. It was rare for me to run into someone that didn’t know who I was. Mostly people recognized me from the NFL, but the more my vineyard took off and the more delicate my brand became, the more people recognized me from talk shows and interviews in Forbes and popular wine magazines.
Michelle didn’t seem like those women at all.
Just a small-town girl who was down on her luck and looking for someone to give her a break.
She wasn’t trying to siphon me for my money. If anything, she kept bucking against it. Something I wasn’t at all familiar with. She didn’t want it. At least, she made it seem that way. She didn’t strike me as the kind of girl that wanted a man to bankroll a life of luxurious laziness. She wasn’t part of the ‘Ladies Who Lunch’ crowd. In fact, she struck me as the type who mocked or scoffed at women like that.”
“Ready to go in?”
Her voice ripped through my mind as my hand opened the car door.
“Yep,” I said. “It’s been a long day. I’m ready for some food.”