“Besides, I’m over you. I have a new boyfriend, and he gives me orgasms just by looking at me.” I snuggle up to Earl and hug his bony arm.
I can feel Earl glaring at me like I’m insane. I might very well be at the moment. Griffin glances from me to Earl and back again, eyebrow raised in disbelief. It might have been more believable had Earl not been wearing a T-shirt with the phrase LIVING MY BEST GAY LIFE stamped over his chest in rainbow letters.
“I think you should give him two minutes,” Earl says.
“Hotness doesn’t equal a good choice, Earl. He has a baby mama,” I reply.
“It’s not mine,” Griffin injects into our side conversation.
I unhook my arm from Earl’s so I can plant my fists on my hips. “How stupid do you think I am?”
“Imogen lied. I wasn’t even in the country when she got pregnant.”
I stare at him for several long seconds, looking for signs that he’s lying. I can’t remember if looking up and to the left or right means you’re recalling or fabricating information. Regardless, he looks so broken, eyes all kind of sad and desperate. It takes me more time than is reasonable for all those words to sink into my brain. “How can you know that?”
“I went to an ultrasound appointment with her. The technician said she was three weeks further along than what she originally told me. Even if they were off by a week either way, I wasn’t in the US.” His expression is shadowed in anger and what is probably betrayal.
What he’s telling me, in a very public place, with bystanders slowing to listen, hits me right in my already bruised and battered heart. “Wait a second, that bitch cheated on you?”
“Yes.”
“And she tried to play the baby off as yours?”
“Yes.” He jams his hands in his pockets.
“That’s awful. I’m so sorry she did that to you. I would kick her ass if she weren’t pregnant.” I’m not much of a fighter, but I’d break my hand if I could also break her too-perfect nose and knock out a couple of teeth to get a little retribution for Griffin, and maybe myself, seeing as she’s the reason for all the unnecessary drama.
Griffin grins, but sobers quickly. “I’m sorry she lied, and cheated, and manipulated me, and I feel sorry for that kid, but I’m not sorry it’s not mine.”
“This is so Springer. Y’all should see if you can get on that show. I hear they pay like a thousand dollars or something.” I’d momentarily forgotten that Earl was still here, listening to us.
“Griffin’s a billionaire; he spends that on a bottle of champagne.”
Earl slaps his chest and his mouth drops open. “Girl, you’ve been keeping all this juicy goodness to yourself for more than a month. You need to spill all the details when we’re back on the ship.”
I put a hand on his arm, sort of apologizing since he’s my closest friend here. “I was trying to get over him.”
“Can we talk, Cosy? Just the two of us?” He’s not giving Earl the evil eye, although I suppose he realizes he’s not much of a threat, since I don’t have the right genitals to seduce him. Also, Griffin could probably bench-press him with one arm. Earl is a foot taller than me, and we almost weigh the same. He can wear my jeans like capris.
Earl looks at me, giving me his don’t-be-crazy eyes. “I’ll catch up with you later. Text if you need any help.” He waggles his brows suggestively, hugs me, and kisses me on the cheek. As he passes Griffin, he gives him a lingering once-over. He points two fingers at his eyes, then aims them at Griffin while mouthing I’m watching you. As an afterthought, he adds, “You better not make my girl cry.”
Griffin nods. “I’ll do my best not to.”
Earl turns around once he’s past Griffin and thrusts his hips while pretending to slap an imaginary ass.
“So.” I cross my arms. “You stalked me all the way here to tell me you don’t have a baby mama.” It’s a statement, because clearly that’s exactly what he’s done.
“I couldn’t wait another two weeks for you to get back to the States.”
I nod. This makes sense. Griffin likes to take action immediately. I’ve seen this before when he traded in the Tesla for the white sports car after the Nev misunderstanding. “And you tracked me down how, exactly?”
“I bribed your sister.”
I roll my eyes. Figures. Nev can’t resist easy money, even if it means selling me out. “How much?”
“Two grand.”
“She probably would’ve given you the information for a hundred.”
“Probably.”
“Did you charter a private jet to get here?” I’m only sort of being sarcastic.
“I flew economy, actually. And I had two layovers. And the middle seat.”
“Wow, that must have been miserable for the people crammed into that row with you.”
“Pretty sure no one enjoyed their flight.” Griffin rubs the back of his neck and looks at his shoes. They’re blue. They look new and odd paired with khaki shorts and the band shirt. “Can we go somewhere and talk? Maybe grab something to eat?”
“I guess we can do that.” I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat anything with the way my stomach is flip-flopping around like there’s a dying fish inside, but at the very least I’d like a soda, and maybe some alcohol.
“I know a great little place that’s about a ten-minute walk from here.”
Of course he knows a place. I assume by this point there are very few locations on the map that would be new to him in the western hemisphere. Restaurants aren’t very private, and often they’re loud. “We can do that. Or maybe I can get you a pass for the ship?” While public might be better, the ship is safe, with people I know.
“Whatever’s better for you, Cosy.”
Everything feels awkward and unnatural as we walk side by side along the bustling pier, toward the gangway that takes us back onto the ship. I don’t know what to say, or how to manage the fact that Griffin showed up here out of the blue, let alone the craziness that is clearly his ex.
Our fingers brush as we swerve around a couple taking selfies in front of the ship.
“I missed you,” Griffin says suddenly.
I glance over at him, taking in his ridiculously handsome face. He’s so serious and he still looks so sad. “Same. The past month has sucked a lot of big old nasty goat balls. I spent a lot of hours trying to be angry and then crying about it because I wanted things to be different.”
“Believe me, I wanted it to be different too, but I tried, because you asked, and you were right to.” This time when our fingers brush, it’s intentional on Griffin’s part. He stops walking and takes my hand, hesitant. There are people everywhere and pigeons crapping by our feet, but we might as well be alone with the way the entire universe narrows down to him. “I wish I could’ve saved us both from that pain.”
“My heart still feels raw.”
“Same.”
I smile at how oddly right that sounds coming out of his mostly sophisticated billionaire mouth. We stare at each other for several long seconds. I want to run away from this feeling. I want to staple the armor back over my heart to protect it, just in case he’s full of more shit than a septic tank.
“Can I—”
“Is this—”
We both stop and start. Griffin steps in closer until the tips of his blue shoes touch the tips of my flip-flops. Mine are dumb shoes to walk around in.
“Griffin.” I think it’s a warning. I want him to kiss me, but I don’t.
I’m still trying to catch my breath and digest this new information. That he’s not tied to someone else for the rest of his life. That she abused his trust in such a horrible, selfish way. That he was supposed to be a father and now he’s not. I can’t even begin to imagine the emotional whiplash that would cause. I’m reeling and I’m not the one directly affected.
He doesn’t heed the warning in my eyes that this is too much for me to handle too soon. But he also doesn’t kiss me, which is both a relief and a disappointment.
Instead, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him. And I melt, like ice cream in the sun. The ache in my chest eases for the first time since he walked out of my apartment, and my life, all those weeks ago.
It’s terrifying to find comfort so easily in another human being. It makes me acutely aware of how vulnerable I am and how much power he has. I hope he doesn’t plan to use it to his advantage. But as that one thought slaps me in the brain, I also realize if it’s like that for me, maybe it’s exactly the same for him. Why else would he fly all the way here—economy, with two layovers in the middle freaking seat, which everyone knows is the absolute worst—to tell me he’s not a baby daddy.
“I missed you so much,” he mumbles into my hair.
There’s a good chance he’s eating it with the way he keeps burrowing deeper. His hold on me tightens, as if he’s trying to absorb me into him. I almost feel like he could.
“I missed you too.” The rest of the world is a buzz in the background as I sink into this embrace and let it heal the parts of my heart that are bruised. I hope he doesn’t crush it again, because I’m not so sure it will survive another blow from this man.
Eventually he releases me, lips brushing my cheek when he pulls back. His pinkie stays linked with mine as I lead him up the gangplank—sort of symbolic that we’re not walking the plank into an endless black ocean.
I shouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised when it turns out Griffin knows the captain of the ship, and the management, and one of the guys at the security checkpoint. It’s actually a good thing he had no idea where I was until my sister sold me out, otherwise he might have yachted his ass out to sea like a real crazy stalker.
Once he has his pass, I consider taking him down to the bowels of the ship—it’s not that bad—but I’m sure when Griffin travels, it’s usually first class with the best rooms in the entire place. I’m lucky enough to have an exterior room with a view of the ocean, but that’s as classy as I get as an intern. I have a six-pack of girly coolers and nothing Griffin would be remotely interested in consuming. “We can grab a drink and go to the staff lounge or the upper deck if you want?” I suggest.
“Sure. That sounds good.”
It’s a gorgeous day. The ship is quiet, and I’m only kind of freaking out that Griffin is here. We find a private corner and settle in with drinks. I considered a sex on the beach because I like them a lot, but I felt like it would give the wrong message, so I went with a margarita instead, double shot, though.
“So. You’re here.” Way to state the ridiculously obvious.
A faint grin appears on his stupidly gorgeous, pillowy lips. “I am.”
I stare into my drink. “For how long?”
“I fly back out late tonight. I have meetings in the morning that I can’t miss in Vegas, or I would stay longer.”
“Right. So you’re back in Vegas, then?” Another idiot question from Captain Obvious over here.
“For a week or so to iron out the hotel project details. Then I’m back in New York while we set up renovation plans. After that, I should be in Vegas for a while again.”
“How long is a while?”
“It’ll depend on how smoothly the project goes, but I’ll assume a few months a least.”
“And after that?”
“I’m not sure yet. It depends.”
“On what?” My stomach does that flip-flopping thing, as if it’s my first day on the boat again. It was nothing like kayaking, unless I was kayaking in ten-foot waves.
Griffin rolls his glass of expensive scotch between his palms, peeking up from under his girl-long eyelashes. “You, mostly.”
My heart skips like a stone over water. “Explain that, please.”
“Now that Imogen is no longer in the picture, and my situation is much less complicated, I wondered if maybe you’d be willing to give me another shot.” He motions between us. “Give us another shot.”
I shouldn’t be at all surprised to hear this. I can’t see any other reason he’d fly his ass all the way here unless he wanted to get back together, but it’s still mind-blowing to hear the words come out of his mouth. “Do you happen to have any other potentially pregnant ex-fiancées I should be concerned about?”
“Just the one, and she won’t be a problem anymore.” Griffin takes a hefty sip of his scotch.
“And you know that how, exactly?”
“Because I told Imogen’s mother that if she tried to contact me again, I’d slap a restraining order on her.”
“Why her mother?”
“She’s more reasonable to deal with.”
That prompts a whole series of questions. “Okay.” I rub my temple. “I need to ask, how in the world did you end up with a cheater who lies about having your baby and needs parental intervention to keep her away from you? Also, should I be worried that I’m dealing with some kind of Single White Female crazy bullshit?”
“Imogen was . . . is high maintenance and prone to overreacting.”
“So she’s a drama queen.”
“That about sums it up.”
I pull my knees up and tuck my feet under my butt. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who would deal with drama queens.”
“Generally, no. Imogen wasn’t like that when we met. Not at first. She seemed like a good partner. We had similar life goals, a few common friends, my parents liked her parents.”
“So you stayed together out of convenience?”
“In some ways, yes. The relationship lacked passion, but for a while, we worked, probably because I was out of the country so much.”
I can see how two people could settle into routine and let love languish or put up walls to prevent heartbreak. I’ve done it. My sister does it with every single guy she dates.
But with Griffin, I can also see the other side—how we might grow together, lust evolving into a soul-binding kind of love that has the power to obliterate a heart if it’s taken away.
“This whole getting-emotionally-attached business isn’t something I’ve done a lot of, and how I’ve felt the past month has made me super aware that breaking up is pretty low on my to-do list.”
“I won’t hurt you again, Cosy. I—”
I hold up a hand before he can finish that statement. “Don’t promise me anything, Griffin. You can’t guarantee that, but I’d like to keep my heart as intact as possible from here on out.” I’m rambling so hard right now, but it’s been a lot of weeks of sadness and confusion, so getting this off my chest feels necessary.
“I may have gone into this”—he motions between us—“thinking it would just be casual, but that changed the more time I spent with you. You’re not a rebound or a fling; you’re exactly what I want and I’ll do whatever I can to keep you in my life. We can take it slow if that’s what you need.”
These are all things I want and need to hear, but there’s more to this relationship than just us. “What if I don’t fit into your life outside of Vegas?”
“You already do.”
“You’re going to want me to meet your family eventually, right?” I’m all over the place right now, but then, I didn’t expect Griffin to show up here today, so every single disorganized thought I have comes out of my mouth.
“Well . . . yes. Eventually.”
“What if they don’t like me?”
“They’ll love you.” He says it as if he’s 100 percent sure.
“They loved Imogen, and she seems like a bit of a nutjob.” I think this is a valid point.
“They liked Imogen because they thought she made me happy.”
“She also fit better into your life than I will.”
Griffin frowns, which makes him look ridiculously sexy. “You’re referring to her family’s financial status?”
“Sort of? I mean, there’s a very distinct difference between her and me. She’s polished and I’m . . . me.” I motion to my attire, which consists of shorts and a shirt with hot pink sequins. “I won’t change who I am to fit into your world.”
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“I don’t want you to.” He sets down his drink and scoots his chair closer until his knee touches mine and the little hairs tickle my skin. “I want you exactly as you are.”
I blow out a long breath. “That’s the only way you’ll get me.”
He picks up my hand and plays with my fingers. He peeks up at me, and it makes him look a lot younger than he is. “So you’ll give me another chance?”
“I want to.”
“But?” His fingers flex around mine.
“Long-distance relationships aren’t easy, and based on what happened with Imogen, I’m going to go ahead and speculate that you might have a few trust issues going into this.”
“I’ll do my best not to let that interfere, but I might need a little extra reassurance that we’re in this together if you’re willing to try handling me and all my baggage.”
I squeeze his hand. “I need time to digest all of this.”
His face falls.
“That isn’t me saying no. It’s just . . . a lot to handle. I’ve spent the past month trying to get over you, and now you’re here telling me there’s nothing in the way anymore. Except you’ve been seriously screwed over by someone else, and while that isn’t necessarily a deterrent to getting back together, it also makes me wonder if part of the reason you want me back is to help you get over what Imogen did to you.”
“That’s not the reason I’m here.”
“I want to believe you, Griffin, I really do, but I need time to self-reflect before I go diving headfirst back into this thing with you. My heart was just starting to heal. I don’t want it tromped all over again.”
“But I won’t—”
“Not intentionally, no. Give me a little more time to sort my feelings out.”
He exhales an unsteady breath. “How much time?”
“I’m on the ship for two more weeks.”
He looks like he wants to negotiate, but he heaves a sigh instead. “You dock in New York, right?”
“I do. I can call you when I get to port.”
“Okay. I can deal with that, not that I have another choice.” He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles, one by one.
Despite the temptation to take him back to my room and ride him like a rodeo bull, I realize it’s not a good idea. I need to keep my head on straight and jumping into bed with Griffin before I’ve made the decision to get back together with him isn’t smart.
The Shacking Up Series Page 79
