Chapter 18
A Michael Bublé song plays over a speaker as I walk through my parents’ front door, my arm linked through Granny’s. I hold it open for Griffin as he carries in our luggage. His sweater is rolled up to his elbows, giving me a front-row view of the bulging muscles and veins in his forearms.
There must be some scientific reason behind why this man makes everything he does look so attractive. Maybe there’s a law of attraction from carrying heavy items that I haven’t heard of yet.
“They’re here.” My mom rounds the corner, heading into the foyer. She pulls Griffin’s granny into a hug first. “I’m Angie. We’re beyond happy to have you.”
“I’m tickled pink to be here and meet Mallory’s family.” She pulls back, patting my mom’s hand. “You can call me Granny. Everyone does.”
Introductions are made between her and my dad before he helps her into the living room to sit. On the ride here, Griffin said she’s been getting up a little more for her physical therapy, but still needs to be careful not to overdo it.
“Where should I put these?” Griffin lifts the luggage slightly.
“We have your granny staying in our guest room here on the main floor with an attached bathroom.” Mom motions down the hallway to the left. “I thought that would be easiest for her after her surgery.”
Griffin heads that way to drop off her things, and I’m pulled into my mom’s warm embrace.
“Happy Christmas Eve, sweetie.”
I return the sentiments, then ask, “What room is Griffin staying in?”
“Yours, of course.”
I bite back a groan at the thought of Griffin in my childhood bedroom. “Am I in Connor’s room?”
Her brows furrow. “No, Connor’s in his room.”
“Well, then, where am I staying?
“Your room.”
My eyes widen. A big warning alarm in my brain flashes a red alert.
She squeezes my arm. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Mal. I know Griffin’s not in Louisville for long, so I’m sure you want to spend as much time with him as possible.”
I force a smile as Griffin returns, carrying my small suitcase and his duffel bag.
Mom smiles at him. “Mallory can show you to her bedroom, where you can put those down.” She winks at me. “Don’t take too long up there.”
I think I might be sick. Griffin and I haven’t been alone in private long enough for me to have a conversation with him about the interview yet…
and now I’m being forced to share a room—no, a bed—with him?
I don’t know how I’m going to keep my growing feelings at bay, let alone remain a safe distance away from him, when we’re sharing a bed.
I climb the stairs, Griffin trailing behind me.
“What is she talking about?” he asks when we reach the landing.
“I’ll tell you in a second,” I say shakily, slightly out of breath from both the ascent and the bed-sharing news. Griffin, on the other hand, doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, even though he’s the one carrying extra weight.
As I step into my bedroom, I’m transported back to my middle and high school years.
Nothing has been touched. Posters of Taylor Swift, One Direction, the Jonas Brothers, Louisville Mustangs players, and the cast of High School Musical cover every inch of my walls.
The gaps are filled in with taped-up photos of me with my besties or family members.
It’s truly like stepping into a frozen moment in time. One where I dreamed of meeting a JoBro, and they would instantly sweep me off my feet and beg for my hand in marriage. Now, I’m living that life in a way—dating a celebrity. Well, fake dating. For now.
I can’t bring myself to look at Griffin as he sets down our things and walks around the room, taking it all in.
He runs his fingers across the trophy I won for ice skating in middle school, right before I quit at the top of my game.
It feels intimate. Like I’m being forced to bare part of my soul to him.
When the silence becomes unbearable, I spit out the words I’ve been holding in. “We’re sleeping in here tonight.”
Griffin immediately turns my way. “We, as in you and me? Together?” I nod. “Are you okay with that?” He looks around the room. “I can sleep on the floor.”
There’s no way I’m letting him sleep on the scuffed hardwood floors.
“You can’t sleep on the floor.” I look at the queen-sized bed.
“We’ll make a pillow wall.” I nod my head slowly.
“That should work. It’ll be fine,” I say, more for my benefit than his, as if uttering the words aloud will make them true.
“Yeah.” Griffin runs a hand along his stubble. “We’ll figure it out.”
I take a step toward the door. “We should get downstairs before my mom thinks we’re up to no good.”
“Why would she think we’re up to no good?” Griffin smirks.
“Because she thinks we’re a real couple.” I pick a piece of fuzz from my coat off my plum sweater, unable to meet his eyes as I add, “Madly in love.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want them thinking a couple has real feelings for each other,” Griffin teases. He joins me by the door, intertwining our fingers.
I roll my eyes, tugging him into the hall. We walk downstairs, passing multiple extended family members, whom we say quick greetings to, until I spot the man I’m looking for in the living room.
“Con Con,” I squeal, running over and throwing my arms around my older brother’s neck.
He lets out a grunt, and I press my lips together to keep from laughing. He always hates it when I call him that, which is exactly why I still do it.
His blond hair is wild and longer than normal. “You need a haircut.” I pull back, taking in his unkempt beard. “And a beard-care kit.”
“My hair’s fine,” he grunts, gruff as ever.
“If by fine, you mean you look like a caveman before mirrors were discovered, then sure, your hair’s fine.”
Griffin snorts behind me.
Connor looks over my shoulder, eyeing him warily. “Who’s this?”
I sigh. “Do you ever read the family group chat?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“I see bluntness runs in the family,” Griffin teases, wrapping one arm around my lower back and extending his right hand to my brother. “I’m Mallory’s boyfriend, Griffin Reynolds. Nice to meet you, Connor.”
My brother shakes Griffin’s hand without an ounce of emotion crossing his face. He releases it immediately and turns to me. “You landed a guy?”
I cross my arms, shooting him a glare.
“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Connor deadpans.
“I’m the one who was lucky enough to land her.” Griffin presses a kiss to my cheek.
The way he says it is so honest that I truly believe him.
My brother frowns as Griffin turns back to him and asks, “Do you live around here?”
“Washington, currently.”
“Currently?” I raise my eyebrow.
“Yeah, it’s where I live.”
“But you wouldn’t have felt the need to add the word currently if you weren’t thinking about moving somewhere else. Isn’t that right?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Excuse me for caring about my brother’s life.”
I know Connor cares about our family deep down, but he’s always been quieter and more reserved than the rest of us. His grumpiness makes me look like a ray of sunshine, and that’s saying something.
“What do you do for work?” Griffin asks, trying to lighten the mood, and I’m grateful for his effort.
“Firefighter.”
Yep, there’s my brother. Never using more words than necessary.
“That’s some hard work right there.” Griffin pulls me closer, but I’m not sure he even realizes he’s doing it. “I have real respect for anyone in public service.”
“Thanks.” Connor looks around the room and sighs. “What do you do? Graham, was it?”
“Griffin.” He smiles, looking relieved that there’s someone in the world who doesn’t know who he is.
“I’m, uh, actually an actor.” He rubs the back of his neck, surprisingly bashful.
But I guess he doesn’t often have to tell people what he does.
He probably just takes pictures with people and thanks them when they say that they loved his latest movie.
“Huh.” My brother doesn’t say anything else.
I’m surprised he even seemed interested enough to ask Griffin a question. Although when he looked around the room, he was probably trying to find somewhere he could escape and avoid all conversations, but my parents’ house is filled to the brim with family members.
“You seriously haven’t seen any of the news articles about us?” I scoff. “I even made a social media account. I followed you.”
Connor shakes his head. “I haven’t logged into my account in years. And I don’t get out much.”
“What do you do with all your free time out there by yourself?”
“Sleep. Take a walk. Enjoy the peace and quiet.”
“Have you done any good fishing out in Washington?” Griffin, bless his heart, attempts to carry on the very one-sided conversation.
“A bit.”
“I fish as often as I can with my friend Rhett. He lives on a lake near Nashville. You’re welcome anytime.”
“Rhett?” My eyes fly to him. “As in the famous country singer Rhett Hayes?”
“Yeah, I didn’t tell you that he’s my best friend? He’s dying to meet you.”
“Rhett Hayes knows who I am?”
“Why do you keep referring to him by his full name?”
“Because he’s Rhett Hayes.”
Griffin cocks a brow. “I guess you’re a fan?”
“We listen to his music a lot in our house. I mean, not as much as Taylor, but his songs are great.”
“I bet you know all of Taylor’s lyrics by heart, too.” Griffin claps my brother on the shoulder.
“All the dances she and her friends made me watch are seared into my brain.”
“Rude,” I scoff. “Our routines were amazing.”
Connor’s mouth presses into a firm line as arms wrap around my middle from behind. They’re little, and decidedly not Griffin’s.