weeks pass by in a blur. Everything is perfect. The spa is thriving, and I make it out a few times with Harley and Suze for drinks and a catch up when Griffin has late work meetings.
Griffin.
The best piece of the perfect puzzle that my life has turned into. He’s incredible. There’s simply no better word for him and how our relationship has developed. I’ve practically moved into his penthouse. He threw a fit when I suggested going back to mine for one night, thinking he might need some of his own space back. The next day he sent Earl up with a bundle of flatpack boxes and told me to text him when they were full. Then he came, shirtsleeves rolled up, muscly forearms out, and carried each one up to his place himself. One by one, until everything except the odd item, like my suitcase and some paperwork I need to sort through, was at his place, piled up proudly in the master bedroom for me to unpack. I don’t know why he didn’t send anyone to help, as there were a lot of boxes. But the way his smile grew with each box he moved, and the intense way he made love to me on his bed, surrounded by them afterward, I would say he wanted the moment for himself.
To be in charge of it.
My gorgeous, control-freak.
“Griff?” I call as I enter the penthouse with my key card and step out of my heels in the entryway.
I pause at the hallway table. There’s a piece of thick cream card with my name written on it. I turn it over.
Meet me on the balcony.
A stupid grin plasters itself to my face as I walk through the apartment, across the living area, and over to the open door leading out to the terrace style balcony which overlooks Central Park. It’s a large space with beautiful, giant potted plants, giving it a real roof garden feel. Griffin’s housekeeper tends to them all. I’m not sure he has a green fingered gene in his body.
I step out onto the cool tiled floor, my eyes casting over the fairy lights which are strung over every available branch and wrapped around every plant. Against the dark evening air, they cover the entire balcony. It’s like being under a magical spell.
“Roma’s been busy,” I say as my eyes fall onto his broad, shirt-clad back standing with his hands thrust into pockets as he looks out at the view.
“She had a good reason to be.” Griffin turns to me, and the lights catch his eyes, illuminating them as they drop appreciatively over my body.
I shiver in delight, goosebumps dancing up my spine. No matter how many weeks we’ve been together, the first time he looks at me after being apart always sends my heart racing in my chest, and butterflies fluttering everywhere else.
He looks at me like he needs me to breathe.
“She did?” I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his waist as he presses his lips to my hair and inhales. “Why is that?” I look around the balcony. There’s an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne inside and two flutes next to it.
“Why do you think, Sweetheart?”
I gaze up at him, biting my lip.
What is he talking about?
He brings his lips down to mine and kisses me, murmuring his next words against my mouth. “It’s three months since your first day at The Songbird.”
His mouth curls in amusement as I do the math. He’s right. Three months ago, today I walked through those doors to begin my first day as Spa Manager.
“I see.” I run my hands down his biceps, the fabric of his shirt smooth beneath my fingertips. “So, you did this for me?”
“Of course, I did. You’re mine.”
He leans in and kisses me again, dropping his hands to cup my ass through my pencil skirt. His fingertips dig into my skin as a deep rumble rolls through his chest.
“I love you in these tight skirts, Sweetheart. And I love sliding them up even more.”
I laugh as his mouth moves to my neck and he fists the sides of my skirt, inching it up my thighs.
“Fuck,” he hisses as his palms connect with the bare skin on my thighs. “God, you don’t know what you do to me.” He presses his body against mine so I can feel exactly what it is I’m doing to him. “I promised myself I wouldn’t fuck you until after.”
“After what?” I sigh as his lips leave my neck and he draws back.
“After I gave you this.” He reaches to the table and lifts a black velvet box.
“What’s this?” I search his face as he looks at me, but he just smiles at me with his crystal blue eyes.
“Open it.”
I take the box from his hand and flip the lid. Inside are the two most dazzling stud earrings I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Griff.” I don’t know what to say.
I stare at them in the box as Emily’s words echo in my ears.
“He bought Gwen a diamond necklace after her first month here.”
He frowns as he looks at me. “Don’t you like them?”
“I do, I…” I swallow as I meet his eyes. “Is this a thing you do? For everyone? I mean, they’re beautiful, but you don’t need to. I do my job because I love it. Not because I expect…” I trail off as I look back at them twinkling in the box.
“For everyone?” He tilts my chin, so I have to meet his questioning gaze.
He knows. He always knows when I’m holding something back.
I take a deep breath. “You bought Gwen a diamond necklace. You don’t need to with me. I do the job because I love it,” I repeat.
Where exactly am I going with this?
“Who told you that?”
My stomach twists. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m a grown-ass woman getting jealous over an ex because of some jewelry. An ex who he didn’t date for more than a few months, and who—by all accounts—caused a huge amount of scandal and lost income to The Songbird when she stole the spa formulations and took them with her to a competitor.
“Maria.” Griffin shakes his head as he looks at me. “Never compare the way I am with you to anyone or anything else. Do you hear me?”
He’s caught me in his intense gaze, the one I’m unable to break free of. It’s like an anchor fixing me on the spot.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Yes, I bought Gwen a necklace.” His hands go to my ear, brushing my hair away as he gently removes my current gold studs, one at a time. “But that’s only because she lost hers after a client fainted on her and pulled it off as she caught them. It was too broken to easily fix.”
His fingers linger on the sides of my face before he takes the new studs from their box and slides them through my ears.
“Thank you.” I reach up and touch one.
“It wasn’t a present to her, Maria. Not in the way you think. The hotel paid for it.”
Something about the way his eyes soften at the corners as he looks at the new studs in my ears has my stomach doing somersaults.
“Oh. I see.”
I could kick myself for sounding so jealous and insecure. I’ve spent most of my adult life not needing reassurance from men. It’s who I am. Yet, with Griffin, the idea of all this ending, or not being real, has my heart in my throat and my mind running away with me.
“They’re blue diamonds,” he says softly, wrapping me back in his arms, the topic of Gwen obviously over in his mind already.
“They’re the same blue as your eyes.” I look into them, the close match stealing my breath.
“Then it will be like my eyes are always on you.” His gaze drops to my lips, and he runs the pad of his thumb over my bottom one, pulling it down so my lips part. “Just like my thoughts are.”
I barely have time to register what could be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me, before his lips are on mine, full of urgency as his hands push my skirt up around my waist.
He hooks his thumbs underneath either side of my lace panties and drops to his knees as he slides them down to my feet.
“Fuck, your scent is the stuff of dreams.”
He leans his forehead against my lower stomach and grasps each of my hipbones tightly as he inhales. His breath dancing against my skin has arousal flooding between my legs and I lean back against the tall Perspex guard rail as my hands drop to his hair.
No matter how many times he goes down on me, the sight of him down there, the anticipation of what’s to come, has me ridiculously wet within seconds.
“Good girl,” he murmurs as he swipes his tongue through me slowly and gets covered in slick wetness.
“Griff?” His blue eyes look up and lock on to mine.
He smiles at the way my voice raises, as though asking a question as I say his name. I don’t know why I do it. Maybe it’s my way of telling him I trust him. That I am giving him complete control over my body.
Whatever it is, it always causes his eyes to darken with a wicked glint.
“Lean back, Sweetheart. I’m going to fuck you with my tongue until your sweet cum is all over my face.”
Oh, God.
My eyes roll back in my head as he begins his assault on my body, easily whipping me up into a frenzy that has me panting out his name and shuddering at lightning speed. He knows just what my body needs. He knows it better than I do. Like I was designed just for him to be able to pleasure me in a way no one else can.
“Griff,” I moan, grinding down shamelessly onto his face the way that drives him wild.
“Sweetheart,” he growls in warning before he sucks my clit. “Give it to me. Right in my mouth.”
I clench his hair in my hands as he pushes and pushes me closer to the edge. My thighs shake on either side of his head as the pleasure in my body climbs higher and higher.
“Fuck,” I cry through clenched teeth, every muscle in my legs trembling.
If it weren’t for the barrier behind me, and Griffin’s firm hand pinning one of my hips in place, I would have collapsed to the floor by now.
“Let it go,” he urges as he removes his mouth and uses his fingers to tease my clit.
He likes to pull back like this sometimes so he can watch. Watch the moment I start to twitch and my muscles spasm, sending my pussy contracting into waves and pushing out extra wetness.
He likes to watch, all right. Almost as much as he loves to taste me.
“Griff!” I cry out as I explode.
He’s on me like a shot, his mouth covering me to catch the squirt of wetness that’s firing out. I shake against him as cum shoots out of me and he drinks it down with a deep, delicious growl.
“Fucking hell!” he groans as I writhe and wriggle all over his face, riding my orgasm down. “Your cunt’s the sweetest thing in the world… Jesus,” he hisses, as my body slows.
My head is spinning, and my legs are shaking as he stands and takes me into his arms, pulling me against his solid, fully dressed body.
“You’re mine, Sweetheart. Don’t ever forget that. I’m never letting you go.”
His eyes bore into me, and then his lips are on mine, sharing the taste of my release with me as he unbuckles his pants and frees his cock. He lifts one of my legs and is inside me in one swift thrust, trapping me between him and the barrier.
Thank God we are high enough that no one on the ground can see.
“Mine,” he repeats, driving into me with a force that knocks the air from my lungs. I reach around and grab the clenching muscles in his tight ass as he fucks me only the way he can.
“Yours,” I whisper, relishing every stroke, as he drives himself further into my heart with every hit. “Always yours.”
“Ooh, what’s all this?” Harley plucks a jar from the box I’m unpacking and unscrews it, taking a sniff.
“It’s the first delivery from the new suppliers.” I pull out one of the facial oils and admire the deep golden glass of the bottle.
“Fancy.” Harley smiles as she rummages in the box some more. “I like the packaging. Better than the old stuff Todd used.”
My face must give something away as Harley frowns at me. “Has he tried to contact you again since the gala, and the filming?”
“No.” I shake my head as I place the bottle down onto the counter. “I think I got it wrong, Harley. It was a split second.”
I think back to the day of the filming when the crowd surged forward through the collapsed barrier. We were swallowed up in the sea of bodies and I’d been bumped into and jostled around. My ID somehow came off, and then I thought I saw blond curls moving away from me in the crowd. But the more I think about it, the more I think I just imagined it, or got it wrong.
Why would he have been there?
“What did Mr. Parker think?”
I look at her and smile. We’ve been openly dating for weeks now, and it’s still odd that my friend doesn’t call him Griffin when she’s talking to me. But I know Harley likes to be professional.
“I didn’t mention it to him. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it probably wasn’t him. And Griff gets so mad at the mere mention of Todd, I didn’t want to give him extra stress he doesn’t need.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Harley tilts her head in understanding as she takes the last jar out of the box for me.
I knew she would understand. She told me she had to take the final account settlement to Griffin for him to sign to release us early from our contract with Todd’s company. Apparently, he broke the nib right off the pen with the force of his signature when Harley said Todd’s name. The idea of mentioning him when I was probably mistaken is just a bad idea. I hate seeing Griffin so stressed about something that’s over and in the past.
“How are things with you? Have you seen Suze this week?”
I’ve loved being able to catch up more with them both recently. But this week I’m getting ready for the reporter from US Vogue to come and do her feature piece in the spa, and so I’m pulling late nights, making sure everything is perfect. She’s coming to use the gym, pool, and saunas first. Then she’s coming for a full body massage and our deep cleansing, age-reversing facial. It’s got one of the new products I developed with the suppliers using Ken’s cocoa butter. I’m so excited to read her piece on it. Me and the team have all tried it, and it’s worked for all of us. Soft, dewy skin that’s bursting with moisture and glowing like an angel. It’s going to have the spa booked up for months.
“I’m seeing her tonight. It was supposed to be tomorrow, but I got a last-minute honey booking.”
“How’s that going?” It’s so interesting that Harley earns all this extra cash trying to help catch out unfaithful husbands.
“Great. Cheating, lying pigs keep me in business.” She grins at me. “Actually, tomorrow’s could be an awkward one.”
“Really?” I begin arranging the new delivery of products onto the display shelving.
“Yeah.” She rolls her eyes with a snort. “I always get a client brief first. Who they are, where they work, etc. It’s to help me strike up a conversation. This guy is from one of our largest competitors. I will have to be careful I don’t let anything slip.”
Harley’s told me she has an entire other persona, name, job, the lot, that she gives to clients so they don’t know who she really is, and that she works at The Songbird. The last thing she needs is for a client who’s whacked with a huge divorce case to realize she works for an agency and come after her looking for payback.
“The one Gwen went to?”
The thought of her makes me uneasy. Not just because she’s Griffin’s ex, but because I’ve seen just what her lying has done to him. It eats away at him that his trust in his staff has been compromised because of her. Emily is convinced it was her, as are the rest of the staff. And I’m inclined to believe it as well. It all makes sense. But Griffin can’t let it go without evidence. That’s what he’s waiting for. Something concrete. Maybe then he will be able to move on and forgive himself for trusting the wrong person.
“No. That’s another one. I still need to watch what I say, though. Most of the time they’re too busy thinking with their dicks to have a meaningful conversation. But can’t be too careful.” She folds her arms across her chest and then nods in approval as I finish arranging the display. “Looks good. What time is the reporter coming?”
I glance at my watch. “She should be with us in an hour.”
“Well. Good luck. Not that you need it. You’ll smash it, Maria.” She bounces off toward the spa doors. “Meet you tonight to de-brief?”
I narrow my eyes at the new bottles and turn one a miniscule amount until they’re all straight. “Sounds good. Griffin’s meeting Reed later before he heads back to LA.”
“He’s going back?” Harley whips her head back around, pausing mid-step.
“That’s what Griff said.”
“I thought he was staying awhile longer?” Harley’s face clouds over with something I can’t read.
“You know as much as me.” I smile at her.
She purses her lips and then turns. “See you later.”
An hour later, Josanna Frederick swoops into the spa. Swoop being the best word to describe her, in her immaculate white trouser suit, matching cashmere coat, killer heels and sleek platinum hair, that she wears like a glinting cape of ice around her head.
“Josanna, it’s so lovely to meet you.” I extend my hand to her and give her a warm smile as one of the team takes her jacket.
She shakes my hand firmly. “Maria Taylor. It’s a pleasure. I heard about your spa in California, and your new facial here in New York, and had to see for myself.”
“Of course.” I smile at her as she looks around the spa reception area.
I’ve heard rumors that she sometimes does this—comes to review some places herself. The magazine never gave us the heads up their editor would attend instead of the features reporter I was expecting. But I prepared for this just in case.
“Would you like something to drink? We have aloe vera infused coconut water.”
Her glossy lips twitch in the corners at the mention of her favorite beverage. “Lovely, thank you.”
I signal one of my team, who darts off toward our kitchen.
After a tour of the facilities, I settle her in with Caitlin, my most experienced therapist, for her full body massage and facial. Josanna made no notes at all during the tour, but I wasn’t expecting her to. She won’t have gotten to her position as editor for US Vogue without a killer memory. And killer instinct, too, I imagine.
I offer her assistant, a young man who’s been sitting on his laptop in our lounge area, another drink to refresh the never-ending ones my team has been supplying. He smiles at me quickly and then goes back to tapping on his keys with lightning speed, cursing under his breath as he stops and hits delete.
“Deadline?”
“Always.” He gives me a tight smile as I pick up one of the room scenting mists from the new display and spray it in the air.
“Here, this has grapefruit in. It’s great for concentration and mental clarity.”
I wrinkle my nose up as the mist spreads in the air, then turn the bottle to read the label. That’s funny. It says ‘Focus’ on it, but the mist in the air is clearly not the blend we usually have. In fact—I sniff again to make sure—it’s not even one of our usual blends at all. This one smells… well, it barely smells of anything, except a trace of an artificial fragrance oil that is making my throat scratchy. We only use the purest essential oils in our fragrance sprays. What the hell is this?
“Maria!” Caitlin runs toward me from the walkway that leads to the treatment rooms flying over the smooth floor and narrowly missing one of the Jerusalem stone pillars the spa is so famous for.
“What is it?”
Her eyes are wide, her face ashen as she grabs my hand. “Something’s wrong. You need to come now!”
She keeps hold of my hand and I race along beside her, followed by Josanna’s assistant, who’s abandoned his laptop and looks as worried as Caitlin.
She pulls me into the treatment room where Josanna is sitting on the bed in her white robe, clutching at her chest, wheezing. Her shoulders rise to her ears with each labored breath she fights to take.
“What happened?” I rush over to Josanna and loosen the top of the robe away from her neck.
“I don’t know. She was fine one second. And then she said she felt itchy and started to breathe like that,” Caitlin cries.
“Josanna, it’s okay.” I rub her arm, trying to reassure her as my eyes land on her lips, which are rapidly swelling like a bad filler job.
“Caitlin.” I turn to her, keeping my voice calm. “Call an ambulance. Tell them we have a severe allergic reaction, and they need to get here now.”
She nods, all color drained from her face before rushing to the phone outside where her frantic conversation with the emergency operator bounces off the walls.
“Does she have any allergies we weren’t told about?” I ask Josanna’s assistant as he stares at her wide-eyed. Her entire face is red and blotchy and swelling by the second. “Any allergies?” I snap as I rush to the sink and soak a pile of washcloths in fresh, cool water.
“N-no! I don’t think so, I…”
He stares at me as I use the first cloth to wipe over Josanna’s face, taking as much of the facial product off as I can before throwing it on the floor and grabbing a clean one and repeating the process.
Caitlin would have gone through the treatment questionnaire with her beforehand to make sure the products were suitable for her.
Josanna’s eyes are wild as she shakes with the effort of trying to draw in a full breath, the wheezing racking up another notch.
“They’re on their way,” Caitlin pants as she comes back into the room.
“Okay. Great. Caitlin, tell Earl. Make sure he’s looking out for them and grab someone from the front desk to show them here once they arrive.”
She nods her head fast, her face crumpling as she slaps a hand over her mouth and runs out again. I shout out into the hallway after her, where the rest of the team has come to see what is going on.
“Helen! Ring the front desk! Ask if they have any Epi-pens in their medical kit.”
“I’ll call upstairs, let them know what’s happening,” someone else pipes up.
I turn back to Josanna’s assistant.
“Has anything like this ever happened before?” I ask, as the skin around Josanna’s eyes seems to inflate and they are forced into two tiny slits. Her breathing has slowed to an almost inaudible crackle. A slow, labored rasp that seems to be taking every ounce of her energy to take.
Shit!
“I don’t know… I… her hand swelled up once!” Her assistant’s eyes light up at his sudden memory, bringing with it a nugget of information. “She shook hands with someone who had just applied cream with, um… shit.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “… Lanolin! With lanolin in it!”
None of our products contain lanolin. There’s no way it can be that. I look back at Josanna. Her torso is tensing, every muscle straining as she fights for air.
If that ambulance isn’t here soon, then…
Time stills as she grasps my hand in hers, squeezing it until my fingers are numb.
No…
My mouth goes dry and my other hand flies to my chest as two paramedics flood the space around Josanna. She lets me go and I step back, my head light as one of them places an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth and the other jabs her leg with what looks like a large marker—an Epi-pen that is used in extreme anaphylaxis cases, or severe allergic reactions. I only know because my nana booked us both onto a first-aid course once when I was visiting her in England. She said I might need to revive her if she had a heart attack from some of the steamy books she reads. She was joking, of course.
But as Josanna is strapped down to a stretcher and whisked away, her swollen face barely recognizable, I couldn’t be more thankful that I recognized it and knew to call for medics straight away.
“Maria?” Harley’s panicked voice calls to me as she rushes over and grabs my arm.
I’ve somehow made it into the main hotel lobby. Josanna’s assistant runs alongside the stretcher as Earl and the other door staff clear a path through a crowd of people congregating on the sidewalk outside.
“Where did they all come from?” I stare at the growing mass of people outside, many now holding camera phones in the air and recording the paramedics as they put Josanna in the back of the ambulance and her assistant climbs in next to her.
“They’re here for Jay. Him and the film crew check out in an hour.”
I turn to Harley, my mouth dropping open, before I drag my eyes back to the scene outside. The ambulance has switched its lights and sirens on and is weaving a slow route through the city traffic.
All those people saw everything. They filmed everything.
“What the hell happened? We got a call upstairs.” Griffin’s deep voice washes over me, grounding me. Just knowing he’s here helps to calm the hammering in my chest.
He rushes over toward us from the main entrance, his suit jacket flying behind him. He must have been outside seeing the ambulance off with Earl.
“An allergic reaction. It must have been something personal one of the team used that she came into contact with. She didn’t have any allergies to anything in the products we use.”
My words fall out of my mouth faster than I can fully process them.
How can this have happened?
We are so careful about cross contamination for this very reason. All my team know not to use their own hand creams and lotions when they’re working. They can use as much of the spa product as they like when they’re at work instead.
“Are you okay?”
Griffin places his hand on the small of my back, steering me away from the center of the open lobby toward one of the quieter hallways that leads off. His dark brows furrow as he glances around at the crowd of guests the incident has attracted. He tips his head toward the staff at the front desk, and they smoothly spread throughout the lobby, reassuring people, and dispersing them back to continue with their own days once more.
“Yeah, I’m…” Tightness grips at my chest. “She could barely breathe. What if they got here too late?”
“It’ll be okay. I’ll call the hospital, see what I can find out,” Harley says from where she’s followed us.
“Thank you.” I give her a weak smile and then let out a huge breath, pressing my palms to my face.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Griffin pulls me into his powerful arms and wraps me inside them, his lips resting in my hair.
I inhale his scent—that air after a tropical storm—and my heart rate slows further as I settle into the warmth and safety of his chest, somewhere I’ve become so at home in these past couple of months. I stroke my hand down his tie as my other hand grips the fabric of his shirt around his back.
I wish I could stay here forever.
“Come upstairs. You need to sit down and have a strong drink.” His arms move from around me, and one hand slips inside mine, threading our fingers together. “Maria?”
“No.” I look back into his eyes. “I need to check on my team.” I slide my hand from his grasp and swipe my fingers under my eyes. Then I straighten my shoulders and clear my throat. “I’ll call you once I’ve made sure they’re all okay. Then we’ll see if we can work out what happened.”
I don’t give him time to answer before I stride off in the spa’s direction, my stomach a tangled ball of nerves.
I could easily have seen a person die for the first time today. Nothing could be worse.
The rest of the day passes by in a blur of team meetings, taking witness statements, and making sure everyone is okay, including arranging extra support for Caitlin and any of the others who may need it. I re-arrange all of today’s appointments so that I can send the team home early.
By the time they’ve gone, I’m completely exhausted. I sit in the empty spa reception for a while, listening to the running water which flows beneath the glass floor in a make-shift stream. It’s a beautiful design, and the sound of the water running is just what I need to help calm my nerves after such a stressful day.
I can’t believe it happened. I need to understand what went wrong. But I also need to make sure Griffin is okay. Harley called down to say he had been over to see the management board at Vogue this afternoon. I don’t know what’s going on. He was still there when I last spoke to Harley, but she said she had managed to speak to a doctor at the hospital, and Josanna will make a full recovery.
Thank God.
I collect my thoughts and head up to Griffin’s office. It’s late, but he’s usually always here later than me, either still working at his desk, or leaning back in his chair, staring out at the skyline as he waits for me. His blue eyes always look over and catch mine the moment I walk in, like he can sense me before I say anything. The way his brows lift, and his eyes sparkle at me when he sees me…. God, I live for that part of each day.
But now?
Nothing.
The office is deserted, and all the lights are off. Even the cleaning crew isn’t here.
I head up to the apartment and let myself in. But I don’t need to walk around its vast interior to know that Griffin isn’t here, either. The emptiness is louder than any sound he could make when he’s home. He was planning to meet Reed tonight. But after everything that’s happened, I expected him to be here. Or to have left a message.
I pull out my phone and call his number. It rings once and I’m sent to voicemail.
Did he just reject my call?
Acid rises in my throat as my tongue turns to sandpaper in my mouth. I look around the apartment for signs that he’s been here.
Nothing.
Maybe he’s still over at Vogue. But this late? No, he would have left hours ago.
I pace up and down in front of the glass doors that open to the balcony.
God, what if something has happened at the hospital and Josanna got worse again? Could that be where he is? But surely he would text.
I drop down onto the giant couch and stare at my phone. He’s never not told me what time he will see me later. Or text me to tell me if he’s gone to a last-minute meeting. Ever since the jokes about checking my schedule when I first began working here, he has always been completely transparent about where he is and wants to know where I am in return. It just doesn’t make sense. There must be something wrong at the hospital.
I call him again, leaving a voicemail telling him I’m going to the hospital. Then I text him to tell him the same. I can’t do anything there. But she got ill at my spa. I need to at least see how she is, see if there’s anything I can do to help.
My phone rings in my hand before I even make it to the front door.
“Griff?”
“Don’t go to the hospital. She won’t see you.” His voice is sharp, cutting into me.
I freeze mid-step.
“What? Why? Isn’t that where you are?”
“It’s best you keep away.”
My eyes sting at the coldness in his voice. It’s not unkind exactly. But it’s the tone he uses all the time whenever he has business to take care of. When he’s in full Griffin Parker boss-hole mode. Unemotional. Detached.
The tone he’s never once used with me, even before we were dating.
“I don’t understand. Where are you?”
He mumbles something. It’s muffled, like he’s covering his phone with his hand.
“Griff, are you on your way back?” I hate the giveaway in my voice. The slight break in pitch that hints at the lead weight that’s dragging down my stomach.
Something isn’t right.
“Don’t wait up,” he mutters.
And then he’s gone.
