Chapter 11
GRIFFIN
I found the restaurant quick enough. I wasn’t a fan of these bowl things—I felt like it was just an excuse for them to put in a bunch of scraps, cover it in five different types of sauces, and call it a meal. But I had to admit that this place looked good. I’d have to remember it.
I wasn’t hungry, so buying a bowl for myself was out of the question. And as promised, Phoebe had already ordered her meal, so all I had to do was pick it up.
Twenty minutes later, I parked in front of her house.
Hurrying up the front steps, I noticed how they creaked under my weight.
I hoped she got rid of this place. It was a death trap.
I’d stayed in quite a few dumps as a student, when saving money was more important than comfort, but this place took the cake.
She opened the door before I even managed to knock. Once again, she was flustered. I expected her to be wearing sweats or something, but she was in a dress, and her hair was elegantly pulled to one side.
“Hey!” She sounded breathless. “I heard the car.”
Had she dressed up for me? I loved the thought of that.
I held up her bowl. “Dinner is served.”
“You didn’t buy anything for you?”
“I was at my parents. Mom cooked, so I’m stuffed.”
Her face fell. “Griffin, I thought…” She shook her head.
“What?”
“I thought you wanted to have dinner together to discuss how things were going with Jude or something.”
“Phoebe, I just wanted to bring you dinner. Besides, look how happy you are.”
She smiled, taking the bag from me and carefully pulling out the bowl as we approached the dining room. She’d already put forks and knives for two on the table.
“Thanks, it’s my favorite. I haven’t had it since I moved here because it’s not exactly close.”
“Where did you live before?” I asked.
“In the Encanto neighborhood.”
“With him,” I stated.
She nodded, lowering her eyes to the bowl. “We lived together in a one-bedroom apartment.”
“I don’t get it. He’s a doctor, and you were working in his office. He must have made a lot of bank.”
“He wanted to pay back his student debt as quickly as possible.”
“There’s more to that,” I said firmly.
She looked up from her bowl. “How do you know?”
“You tensed up.”
Her eyes turned misty. “I never really asked for anything. And… he used a lot of those savings to buy her a car. I saw it on Facebook today. He posted it with the comment ‘Surprising my baby for no reason at all. Because she deserves it.’” She waved her hand in front of her face.
“I don’t even know why it upsets me so much. ”
“Phoebe, it’s a normal reaction.”
“I knew we were saving money, so whenever he asked me if I wanted something, I’d tell him I didn’t need anything.
It didn’t matter if it was Christmas or my birthday.
I think the most extravagant thing I ever asked for was a Kindle, and that was during a Prime Day, so it was already on sale.
” She swallowed hard, and her voice was rougher when she spoke again.
“I just don’t get why I wasn’t worth anything to him. ”
I pulled my chair closer, fighting to keep my temper under control, which was insane because I usually had zero temper. Clearly, that didn’t apply where Phoebe was concerned.
“Some people are the lowest of the low. They’re so self-centered that they don’t care about anyone else but themselves.”
“You’re right. I think he simply saw me as a painting or piece of furniture, someone who’d been part of his life for so long that he could completely neglect me.”
If she were mine, I’d give her the world: everything I owned, everything money could buy.
If money couldn’t buy it, I’d somehow still find a way to get it for her.
But she wasn’t mine. And she was obviously still working on recovering from the relationship fiasco.
The last thing she needed was me barreling into her life.
Besides, relationships weren’t my thing. I didn’t want to hurt her.
“Phoebe, listen, I plan on calling Jude next week to tell him that we won’t be able to make it at all. Ever. I’ll think about a good excuse.”
“No, don’t do that. I was actually going to call and talk to you about that, but the week got away from me. Don’t cancel it. We can do it,” she said.
I frowned. “What?”
“One weekend won’t be that hard. And I don’t think he’ll keep inviting us to things. Eventually, he’ll just want to talk to you about the deal, and either it goes through or it doesn’t.”
“But this isn’t fair to you. You have a lot on your plate. You don’t need to deal with this complication.” Plus, I was thinking how disappointed my family was in me for even doing it in the first place. My conscience was winning.
She smiled at me. “It’s a delicious complication, and I could use some more of those.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. If she started flirting, I wasn’t responsible for where we ended up.
Probably with me sinking inside her and her legs wrapped around my waist.
“I thought about it. Really thought about it,” she added. “I don’t think it’s going to be too much of an inconvenience. Besides, it might be fun! I’m sure their weekend getaway will be fabulous.”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “It might involve kissing.”
“I figured. I think we’re very good at it.”
My cock twitched. Fucking hell, this wasn’t going the way I’d intended. Then again, I’d postponed canceling the weekend with Jude this week… because I didn’t actually want to.
This was what I’d come here tonight for, I realized. To hear her tell me that she wanted to continue the ruse.
“Just so you know, I was kind of holding back.”
She jerked her head back. “What? With the kiss? That’s not possible.”
I grinned at her. “I was putting on a very good show for that moron.”
She smiled. “Well, it worked. He didn’t contact me again.”
“Thank fuck.” I leaned back in my chair, happy that I’d managed to intimidate Marshall, but quicky sobered up.
“Phoebe, are you sure?” I asked her again, because I wouldn’t move forward with this unless she gave an absolutely resounding yes.
My parents wouldn’t look poorly on me if this was more than just me trying to convince someone into doing business.
She sat up straighter, rolling her shoulders back, and flashed me a very big grin. “Hell yes, we can do this. We’ll get your stake in Jude’s company. I do have a request, though.”
“Sure.” Why shouldn’t she? It was an agreement, after all.
“If we do run into Marshall again at some point, give me another hot kiss.”
I burst out laughing, throwing my head back. “You’ve got it. Let’s celebrate sealing the deal.”
She blushed for real this time, pressing her hand to her right cheek as if she couldn’t quite believe it.
“I wasn’t trying to suggest—” I began.
Phoebe laughed nervously, saying, “No worries, but I don’t have champagne. I have white and red. Your pick.”
“I don’t need anything to drink. You go ahead. I’ll have water to toast.”
She pouted. “No. I don’t want to drink by myself.”
“Okay. I’ll join you, then.”
“I’ve got a bottle of white wine already open in the fridge.”
I went there with her, pulling on the door, and a loud crack splintered through the air.
“Holy crap!” I exclaimed. “The handle just broke.” I put it on the counter, inspecting the refrigerator door.
“Oh shit! Are you hurt?”
“No.”
She ran a hand through her hair. “I’ll buy superglue tomorrow and fix it. I’ve already done it three times.”
“That would explain why it came off so easily.”
“You can still open it like this.” She put both her hands at the edge of the door and pulled with force, then took out the bottle of wine.
“Phoebe,” I said slowly as we headed back to the table.
“Don’t say it.”
“You don’t even know what I was about to say.”
“That I should buy another fridge.”
I moved up behind her, looking over her shoulder as she poured the wine. “You can’t live like this.”
She turned around so quickly that I nearly got whiplash. “This is my house, for better or for worse. At this point, I’m glad I have a place to live and don’t have to beg my friends to take me in.”
“One of my brothers invested in a block of condos. I’m sure he can put in a word for you.”
She shook her head. “Griffin, don’t ask, please. I know this house isn’t what you’re used to, but it’s mine. Are you uncomfortable being here?”
I stepped closer. “It’s not about me. It’s uncomfortable for you. The front steps are a death trap, and the furniture is falling apart.”
“It’s just old.”
“I’m not sure this house is safe for you.”
“It doesn’t have mold,” she said proudly. “The inspector checked that before we bought it.”
Mold. That was rock bottom when it came to requirements for a house as far as I was concerned. But Phoebe was clinging to that like it was her salvation.
“I know our lives are very different—”
“It’s not about that, Phoebe,” I countered.
“Yes, it is. You look around and see a fucking disaster,” she said. I’d clearly pissed her off unintentionally. “I see it as a way for me to start over, okay? I don’t need you to make me feel even worse about this place than I already do.”
“I’m sorry. That was not my intention. I apologize. I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Apology accepted.” She held up one glass. I took the other one. “As long as you don’t bring it up again.” She jabbed her finger at me for emphasis.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise.”
She gave me a strange look, licking her lips. “But there’s one thing we should talk about.” Her cheeks turned red.
“Anything.”
“Sleeping arrangements.”
I grinned. “That’s got you blushing, huh?”
She pressed her lips together. “Griffin…”
“I’ll think of something. We’ll say that I’m a bad sleeper, so we usually use separate bedrooms. I’ll ask to be in another guest room.”
“You think they’re going to be fine with that?”
“Sure.”
“All right.” She was still blushing, though. “Then let’s toast to next weekend.”
I grinned and clinked my glass against hers. I had the strangest feeling that it was going to be epic.