Chapter 22
GRIFFIN
I shouldn’t be nervous. This is just a technical operation, that’s all. But as I shake my friend’s hand, a manager at the town hall, thanking him again for squeezing us in, I can’t help the nerves rattling through me.
“You okay, buddy?” Jude asks when he leaves.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” I bark.
I finger the rings in my pocket. This morning, while my sisters absconded with Sasha, I headed down to Quince River Jewelers, where I picked up a couple of basic bands.
I can see Jude hiding his stupid smile. “Only a few minutes ’til she’s here and you become a married man.”
“I need to take care of something,” I say tersely, striding out of the room.
Jude’s the only one here right now, and he’s pissing me off.
Even though he seems like the most clueless of my siblings, I swear to God he’s the most emotionally insightful.
I don’t usually worry about him reading me, because normally, I manage not to emote at all around him.
It’s impossible right now—I’m like a goddamned open book I can’t keep closed.
The town hall lobby is busy, with people coming in and out the main doors, lining up at the counter to pay parking tickets and ask for directions to various departments.
I pull my phone out of my suit pocket.
I let Ford know what was happening this morning, but I haven’t told Lionel. A big part of me wants to show up there tomorrow and flash him my ring. I want to see his face when he knows I’ve locked in Sasha’s protection.
Except for that other thing.
This will be a knife in my boss’s heart. As bad as things are with him right now, I don’t wish that pain on him.
I tap his number.
I wait for three rings, then four. “Shit.” He’s not going to pick up.
Then the ringing stops and he’s there. “Kelly.”
No sense beating around the bush. “I wanted you to know I’m getting married today, Lionel.” I tense, waiting for his response.
There’s a long pause. “I see.”
“To Sasha Macklin.”
There’s a longer pause where I swear I hear the absence of his breath.
“We’ve been seeing each other and I decided to make it offi—”
“Bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t care about Sasha Macklin. You’re doing this to get back at me.”
No, he’s reading this all wrong.
“I care about Sasha. It’s why I’m marrying her.”
A beat passes, then Lionel says, “You think I could have prevented what happened to Laura.” His voice cracks on her name.
I clench my jaw so tight I’m sure I’m going to break a tooth.
I unclench long enough to speak. “I’ve never blamed you for what happened, Lionel. How could I? You weren’t there. It’s my fault. Not yours.”
“That’s exactly it, isn’t it? I wasn’t there for my baby girl.”
I lower the phone for a moment. This was not where I expected this call to go.
There’s a long stretch of silence where I think both of us try to get our feelings under control.
Finally I say, “Laura never would have married me, Lionel, and you know it.”
Lionel laughs, but there isn’t an ounce of humor in it. He knows I’m right. Laura didn’t want to make our relationship known. Neither of us ever articulated our love for each other. But she never hid it from her father. It was all the proof I needed that she cared.
“I never thought you’d care for another woman again, Griffin. But I’m glad you do. Even if this fucks us both in more ways than you know.”
We’re back to the bad side of things, stepping out of the part where we used to care about each other like a pair of old shoes I don’t think we’re ever going to put back on.
It’s Laura, of course. But there something else there.
Something so off with him it’s eating at me. But I can’t figure it out now.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say.
“Did you hear that part about you fucking me with this?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You always did keep your word, at least,” Lionel says tightly.
Then the call ends.
I pocket my phone, running my hand over my face. This marriage is a mistake, but only on the side of my feelings. Logically, marrying Sasha is the right thing to do. I need to set my feelings aside, that’s all.
“Who’s Laura?” a voice asks.
So fucking much for that.
My dad sits on a bench a few feet away from me.
I didn’t see him come in. It’s not like me not to be aware of my surroundings. That’s what feelings do to me. They make me make mistakes.
I keep my expression neutral. “Hello, Dad.”
Dad looks awkward in his suit. He normally prefers plaid button-downs and khakis, and the suit looks kind of misshapen on him. He’s showing his age these days; his once dark hair all silver now; the lines around his eyes etched deep.
“You know, you’re the second person to ask me about her in the last twenty-four hours,” I say.
He should tell me congratulations. Or at least say hello back. Instead, he says, “You never told me there was someone else.”
My dad and I were never close. I love him, but we’re too dissimilar to be close. He’s all about feelings, where Mom understood logic. She understood feelings, too, but she got me more than Dad ever did.
I sit down beside him, keeping a few feet between us. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t tell anyone about her.”
Dad nods, his hair flopping onto his forehead. He needs a haircut. He stopped taking care of himself after Mom died. At least he isn’t running away like he did at first, spending a whole year overseas trying to pretend Mom wasn’t gone.
“What happened?” he asks.
I consider not answering. But I’ll just be putting off the inevitable. Dad never knows how to drop things we don’t need to discuss.
“She’s someone I was with for a while,” I say. “And I lost her,”
It’s the simplest explanation. A version of the truth.
“I’m sorry.”
My stomach twists. Dad does know about losing the love of your life.
Was Laura the love of my life? I always thought so. But now…
Dad reaches into his pocket. When he pulls his hand out, he’s holding a dark blue jewelry box.
I blink, shoving those confusing thoughts away.
“Open,” he says.
I hold my hand out, and he sets the box on my palm. I lift the top. Inside is a ring. Delicate and antique-looking, with a swirl of diamonds and something pale in the center. An opal, I think.
I can’t take it. Not for a fake wedding. “Dad—”
“It wasn’t your mother’s.”
I loosen up, just a little. I should have known that. Mom was buried with hers.
“Grandma’s?”
“Yes, but not my mother. It belonged to your mom’s mom.”
“You knew her?”
“No. But your mother told me years ago she wanted to give it to one of you kids. She didn’t know how to choose. Thank God none of you got married before she went.”
I laugh at his morbid joke, and so does he.
He looks at me, then down at the ring again.
“I could have given it to any one of you, but I didn’t. It was indescribably special to her. One of only a few things she had of her mother’s.”
Dad clears his throat.
“Anyway. You hang on to it. I know you already have rings, so keep it and give it to your kids.”
Out of nowhere, I think of Sasha’s face when I told her I wasn’t planning on having kids. How she’d looked almost hurt, like it mattered what my plans were.
“Why me?” I ask Dad, closing the lid to the ring box.
“You always know the right thing to do, better than any of us. So I trust you to do the best thing with it, Griffin.”
I feel like a fucking fraud. If he knew this marriage was for convenience only, he’d never entrust me with this. I want to tell him it’s a mistake to give it to me.
But I don’t have time. Dad stands up abruptly, his eyes going over my shoulder.
Sasha stands in the doorway to the town hall, wearing the suit she had on last night. Except now her hair is all brushed back in curls. She smiles when she sees us, and I swear to God I hear my dad gulp.
Her expression’s nervous. But with the way her eyes are pinned on me, I can hardly breathe.
“I almost forgot,” Dad whispers.
“Forgot what?” I ask, slightly dazed.
“That your mother used to look at me just like that.”
My mouth goes dry.
“I know it’s supposed to be bad luck to see me before the wedding,” Sasha says, coming to a stop in front of us, “but this isn’t exactly conventional.”
She thrusts a hand out to my dad. “Mr. Kelly—Dad—it’s so nice to see you again.”
Dad? Something new tightens around my chest. Panic, maybe? The feeling that everything is too real when it’s not real at all.
Dad’s eyes go red-rimmed. “Welcome to the family, Sasha. I know if my son picked you, then you’re the best thing to ever happen to him.”
“Jesus, Dad,” I say, almost a plea.
Sasha meets my eyes, her expression mirroring what I feel, but only for a flash. “Well, he has been known to be right from time to time,” she says, recovering quickly. Then she reaches up, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Hello.”
She smells so good it fucking hurts. I grasp her around the waist.
A voice tells me Dad’s watching—I should pretend this is real.
Except I don’t need to pretend this feels good. She fits against me like she was meant to be there. That tightening increases. It is panic.
I can’t move. I just splay my hands against her back, breathing her in. “Sasha,” I say, my voice gruff.
“Yeah?” Her fingers dance along the back of my neck, and I have to fight not to react to the delicious feeling of it.
We’ve never hugged before, not unless you count that time in the restaurant when she practically jumped on me to get away from Creelman.
“Last chance to back out,” I say, hardly able to believe the words are coming out of my mouth. My chest rages hot at the thought of Creelman, and I’m giving her the option to not be as protected as possible against him.
I don’t care. Right now, I’m prepared to drop everything. To go to Siberia and live in a fucking yurt, so long as it’s with Sasha.
“I don’t want out,” she whispers.
The grin that spreads across my face is enough to rival my little brother’s, and he gets paid to smile.
“I’m…uh…I’ll meet you two inside,” Dad says.
I’d completely forgotten he was there, lost in the feeling of Sasha against me.