21. Brynn
Chapter twenty-one
Brynn
“ F ifteen minutes!” Griffin calls from the living room, where he’s waiting for me. I rest a hand on my stomach in an effort to calm the sea of nerves that churn beneath my skin and stare at my reflection in the mirror.
The one in the bathroom I share with my NFL superstar boyfriend.
The girl looking back at me can’t believe this is our life.
Somehow, this boring plain-Jane college instructor has bagged an absolute stud.
He’s become my everything: friend, defender, and lover. He loves me so well, in the little ways and the big ones. Soft and out loud. Gentle and tough when I need him to be. He’s affectionate and sweet, but also hot and naughty.
And he’s even converted me into a football fan.
With a long breath out, I shake my head. Then I swipe on a layer of lip gloss and step back and smooth my hands over my dress. The dress I picked up when Paige and I shopped for outfits for the Blues’ holiday party. I knew this was the one the second I saw it, and I’ve been dying to wear it since.
The asymmetrical neckline that exposes one shoulder. The fitted top that hugs my breasts just right. The long, flowy skirt with a slit up to my thigh. The color looks amazing with my fair skin and dark hair. This dress is a showstopper, and I can’t wait to see Griffin’s reaction.
I’m buckling my strappy gold heels when he shouts a five-minute warning. God, it feels amazing to wear heels for special occasions without worrying about my boyfriend’s ego.
When I step into the living room, Griffin is standing by the couch, holding my wool peacoat. As he takes me in, from the braids and twists of my half updo down to the heels on my feet in one slow pass, I hold my breath. When his eyes lock with mine, a single word escapes his lips: “Goddamn.”
I jut a hip so the slit exposes my leg. “Boyfriend seal of approval?”
His voice is pure grit. “Boyfriend gives it a million I-can’t-wait-to-peel-it-off-you-later stars.”
A flush of heat rushes to my face, but I can’t hold back my grin. “You clean up nice, Mr. Lacey.” I caught a glimpse while I was getting ready, but now I can fully admire him. The charcoal tweed blazer is a perfect complement to his black pants and dress shirt. The white lights twinkling on the Christmas tree we decorated together a few weeks ago highlight his sparkling blue eyes and bright smile.
He’s so handsome, and he’s all mine.
Another round of nerves flutters in my tummy. “It’s okay that it’s red?” I swipe my palm along the garnet fabric.
He gives me a quizzical look as I slip my arms in the coat he’s holding open. “Baby,” he says as he gently pulls my hair from under my collar, “you can wear whatever color you want. Let’s head down. Beau and Paige should be here soon.”
Paige squeals through her open window as we make our way to Beau’s idling SUV. “Hottest couple alert.”
“Why aren’t we the hottest couple?” Beau pouts behind the wheel.
She tosses her blond waves. “No, babe, we’re the cutest Blues couple.”
“Facts.” He holds up a hand, and they high-five.
My friend is dressed in a belted hunter-green jumper with sheer sleeves, and with Beau’s matching dark-green sport coat, there’s no doubt they’re the cutest.
After we park and trek up the loading dock, we join the crowd of Blues players and personnel already on the riverboat. The three-story boat is decked out in festive garland and red ribbons. Long tables, parallel to the wall of windows on either side, are decorated with elegant place settings and centerpieces in red, white, and silver. Under the windows, the food is set up in steaming chafing dishes and huge serving bowls. There’s a small stage at the back of the space where a quartet plays jazzy renditions of holiday tunes, and at the opposite end, there’s a bar.
While the guys get drinks for the four of us, Paige and I mingle with the players and their partners. Once the boat launches from the dock, we all pile our plates with delicious Memphis barbecue and all the fixings. We find seats at the end of one of the tables and are joined by Devon, the other tight end, and Tyrell, the wide receiver, as well as D’Angelo Sweeney and Charmaine.
I love witnessing these tough players interact off the field. Their strong friendships play a big role in their ability to play so well together. They tease each other relentlessly, but always with affection. Surely there’s a toxic male personality or two on the team, but this group is full of the kind of guys who encourage and support and build one another up, no matter what.
“Hey, Cap, you know a boat captain can marry couples, right?” Devon eyes Beau, then Paige. “If you two want to make it o -ffish, I’m offering best man services. I bet Coach’ll walk Paige down the aisle. ”
“Sorry, Greenway. That’s not true. Unless said captain is an actual recognized marriage officiant, like a judge or minister or notary.”
Greenway’s jaw drops, the stunned expression making us laugh. “But in the movies…”
Paige chirps, “Aw, good thing you’re cute, Dev.”
While we enjoy the food and each other’s company, Coach Mundy and Mrs. Russell, the team’s owner, give speeches. Whoops and hollers sound around us when two players grab mics and treat us to a lovely a capella version of “Blue Christmas.”
When Griffin and Beau, along with ten of their teammates, line up along the front of the stage, Paige and I exchange bewildered looks. But as the group sings a football version of “The Twelve Days of Christmas”—each player taking on his own gridiron gift and acting it out—we laugh and cheer with the crowd. Beau cheekily flashes his hand when he warbles “five Super Bowl rings,” and Griff’s enthusiastic touchdown signal every time he croons “seven points a TD” earns plenty of laughs.
During the last verse of the song, right before his turn, he flinches and his features lock up. His focus is fixed on one spot in the crowd, so I follow it, searching for who’s garnered this reaction, but no one stands out.
I don’t get a chance to ask him who caused him to tense up like that, because my own ghost of Christmas past makes eye contact when Griffin returns to his seat. Jack’s glare is colder than the temperature outside. When my current boyfriend notices my ex, he lazily drapes an arm along the back of my chair and dips his head to press a lingering kiss to my bare shoulder. Staking his claim. A move so brazen and possessive it makes me clench my thighs.
According to Paige, Jack is lucky to still have a job after he socked Griffin last month. What she doesn’t know is that I asked my man to speak up on his behalf. As much as I’d love to be rid of Jack for good, I don’t want to be the reason he loses his dream job. Shane was all too willing to accept Griffin’s explanation when he insisted it was a “slight misunderstanding that won’t happen again” in order to keep his right-hand man.
Once dinner is over, we mingle, and Beau and Paige leave to check out the upper decks. While Griff and I grab another drink at the bar, I keep Jack in my periphery to ensure we won’t cross paths.
“You want to check out the river?” Griffin asks when he swallows the last of his bourbon.
“Yeah, go on up. I’ll find you after I use the restroom.”
He kisses my hand. “Sure? I can wait.” When I nod, he says, “Don’t forget your coat.”
When I’m finished in the restroom, I snag my coat from the back of my chair and head up. The night air is brisk, but this area is covered, blocking any wind. The deck is lined with rows of wooden benches, and several people are hanging out up here, bundled in their coats and scarves to brave the winter night. I shuffle down the center aisle, scanning the group. Beau and Paige are huddled close, deep in conversation, but my guy isn’t in sight, so I pull my coat tighter and climb to the top deck.
This level has a covered section in the middle but open decks at the front and rear of the boat. I blink up at the clear night sky and breathe in the crisp air, relishing the slight burn in my lungs. I scan the people, looking for Griffin, but this area is crowded, too. Laughter and snatches of conversation float through the air as I search. I’m about to dig through my clutch for my phone when I see his outline. He’s standing at the back railing.
But he’s not alone.
Stressful situations typically cause one of two reactions in people: fight or flight. But there’s a third possibility, and that’s how I respond now—I freeze.
In the dim light from the covered area, she’s striking, with long waves of midnight hair that flow to her elbows. She’s dressed in a white calf-length faux fur coat and black leather leggings. Her cherry-red stilettos have got to be at least five inches and match the stain on her lips. Even with the added height, she doesn’t quite reach his shoulders. When she smiles up at him adoringly, my stomach sinks like a stone in the river we’re floating.
But when he tips his head back in laughter, focus fixed only on her? The most horrible sense of déjà vu strikes. I’m back at the Peabody, watching my world fall apart across a sea of people.
They may not be standing as close as Jack and the blond were that night, but there’s no denying the familiarity between them. This isn’t Griffin shooting the breeze with an acquaintance or a friend’s date.
I stay hidden in the shadows of the upper deck, spying, as she twirls a strand of her hair. He’s got one hand braced on the railing, and the other is punctuating his side of the conversation. Breath held, I wait, watching. Will he reach out and tuck a strand of her hair behind an ear? Or will he give her arm an affectionate squeeze? Or wrap her up in a life-altering hug?
My throat burns with unshed tears; I refuse to let them fall. But when she places a red fingernail-tipped hand on his forearm, that burn rages into a wildfire and spreads to my belly.
In a blink, my frozen response switches to fight .
Hiding my shaking hands in the pockets of my coat, I approach them.
Griffin straightens but doesn’t look the least bit guilty when he smiles and says, “There you are.”
When I press into his side, the woman does a double take, and surprise flashes on her face and is gone as fast as it appeared.
Griffin rests his hand on my hip and pulls me in tighter.
I grip his waist a little too roughly, and I’m a little aggressive when I jab my hand her way. “Hi, I’m Brynn. Griffin’s girlfriend.”
Her eyes widen, but she recovers quickly and slips a cautious hand in mine. “Harmony. ”
Seriously? What the hell kind of name is Harmony ?
Although, who am I to judge? My middle name is freaking Amethyst .
Take-no-prisoners Brynn is here to play. “How do you two know each other?”
Her dark eyes swim with unease as she blinks at my boyfriend, her mouth gaping.
He answers for her. “We knew each other when I lived in Nashville.”
Well played, Racy.
I clench my fist so hard in my pocket I’m sure my nails leave half-moons on my palm.
Likely sensing my wrath, Harmony titters a nervous laugh. “I should probably go find my date. Griffin, it was good to see you. And, uh, nice to meet you.” She scurries away like a mouse after a crumb.
Smart girl. Clearly her fight-or-flight response is in working order.
I spin to face him, crossing my arms over my thick coat.
Griffin is oblivious. “Baby, I missed you.” He grips my hips to pull me close, but I don’t budge.
“You knew each other in Nashville, huh?”
He tilts his head, blinks at me. “ Yeah ?” He drags out the word, like he doesn’t get it. Which makes me even angrier.
I set my chin and wait for the light bulb moment.
When it happens, though, it’s not what I expect. “Professor, are you jealous ?” The tone is both incredulous and teasing. The accompanying grin, too. Clearly, my boyfriend isn’t reading the room. He finds this humorous while I’m upset and, yes, jealous.
I crane my neck, surveying the lights of downtown as they grow closer. “I’m going to wait downstairs. Have fun with your friends.”
He calls my name but doesn’t stop me as I walk away. And that only makes me feel worse .
For the rest of the night, I sit at a table with Carlos and Gina. I’d rather be alone, but I can’t stomach the idea of Jack catching me by myself, so I feign interest in their conversation. I’d love a glass of wine, but the bar closed twenty minutes ago.
The car ride back to the apartment is tense and awkward. Griffin must’ve clued Beau in because he and Paige are mostly silent, too.
Once we’ve said good night to our friends, we trudge up the stairs. I’m hurt and angry and sad. My chest aches, and my eyes burn from forcing my tears to recede.
This night started on such a high, and I hate that we’re ending it like this.
Griffin shrugs off his coat and drapes it over the back of the couch. He twists my way, focus fixed on me, and begins rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Even though I’m upset with him, the action makes my mouth go dry. Damn it.
His jaw ticks as he works on the other sleeve.
Holy hell. He’s angry.
I’ve never seen him this angry. The seething makes my pulse pound. But not from fear.
Finally, my throat remembers how to swallow, and I find my voice. “I’m going to grab my stuff and sleep upstairs tonight.” Exhaustion weighs down my limbs. All I want to do is curl up and cry.
“The fuck you are.” He crosses his arms over his chest.
Anger flares, momentarily pushing the defeat away. I slam my clutch on the bar. “You’re mad at me? I found you with another woman tonight, and you’re mad at me ?”
“Baby, I’m fucking furious.”
With a scoff, I consider removing my shoes.
In case I need to throw them at him.
I fist my hands at my hips instead .
He tracks the movement before focusing on my face again. “I’m furious because when you got upset with me tonight, instead of communicating your feelings and talking it out, you fucking walked away.”
My heart sinks. He’s right. Jack and I handled conflict by walking away. It was easier to sweep it under a rug than to utilize the sweat equity to make it right.
And as I stand in front of a man who’s willing to put in the hard work, I realize that I don’t know how.
That sudden epiphany is terrifying. What if I’m horrible at this, and he decides I’m not worth the trouble?
Ah, those good old physiological reaction choices have returned. And this time? I’m going with flight .
I sidestep Griffin, ready to head for the stairs, but he mimics my movement like a predator stalking its prey. “You run up those stairs, professor, and I’ll just haul your fine ass back down here.”
Knees trembling, I swallow.
“We’re doing this—now. Fighting it out. Go ahead,” he challenges, tipping his chin. “Ask me the question.”
Before I can second-guess myself, I do it. “You fucked her?”
His eyes widen, then a small smirk sneaks across his distracting lips. Unlike him, that word is not part of my daily vocabulary. But he answers without hesitation. “Yes.” He plants his hands on his hips. “She and I were a thing, years ago. Before I dated Kate. It wasn’t serious.”
I give him a simple nod, even as doubt and fear and jealousy swirl like a storm inside me. “Why is she here? In Memphis?”
He pops a shoulder. “Shocked the hell out of me when I saw her in the crowd. She’s a jersey chaser. Guess she’s worked her way through the guys in Nashville, and now she’s seeing a guy on our practice squad. She still lives over there, but she said she comes over for team events. And booty calls, I assume. ”
My head ceases its bobbing. “Was tonight—” I shake my head, try again. “When did you last see her?”
“It’s been years.” Slowly, he saunters in my direction. “Let me be very clear: I haven’t so much as thought about another woman since the day you crashed into me.” His eyes pierce me with intense passion as he draws closer. “You might see other women smile at me, laugh with me, try to flirt with me. But know this: the whole time, I’m only thinking of you. You consume me, Brynn.”
I scoff, ignoring the way my heart flutters. “There you go, saying all the right things again.”
His response is a cocky smirk that makes me roll my eyes. But the intense tightness in my chest from before aches less with every step he takes.
When he’s within reach, he holds out his hand. A peace offering. And when my fingertips brush his, he closes his eyes in relief.
“It killed me when you walked away tonight. I sat with Beau and Paige, and every three minutes, I stood up to go find you, but I forced myself to stay where I was. Figured you needed space. And I didn’t want to have an audience when we hashed this out.”
“I’m sorry I walked away.” I infuse the words with all the sincerity I feel. “That was how I handled things…before. But I promise to do better.” Chin trembling, I lower my head and blink back tears.
His entire being deflates. “Come here.”
The moment I’m tucked in his embrace, the tears break free. “I’m sorry,” I repeat into his shirt.
He rubs big, soothing circles on my back. “Me, too. I’m sorry it upset you to see me talking to her. But I can’t promise we won’t ever run into a woman from my past.”
“I know,” I pout. There’s no masking my petulance. “But I hate it.”
“Hey.” He pulls back and frames my face, his hold gentle yet firm. “I get it. You think it doesn’t kill me to know that weasel Cockburn has had his hands on you?” He rests his forehead against mine. “We carry our prior relationships into new ones, unfortunately. But let’s keep them where they belong—in the past, over and done—and focus on loving each other.”
“I can do that,” I whisper past the lump in my throat.
“Good. Me, too.” He takes my mouth in a slow, sweet kiss. Before it gets too heated, he breaks the connection and pulls me back into his chest, my head tucked beneath his chin. “First fight, professor. And we handled it, made it to the other side.”
I snort-laugh, the sound thick from the night’s emotions. “What’s on the other side?”
He doesn’t answer right away, so I lean back. As he regards me now, his eyes are at their darkest, a blue so deep I could drown in them. The way he traces swirls on my bare shoulder, along with the husky quality of his voice, sparks a cluster of goose bumps across my body.
“Makeup sex. Hot, sweaty makeup sex.”
A shiver rushes through me, making him smirk.
With his mouth pressed to my ear, he grits out, “I’m going to fuck those jealous thoughts out of your mind. You’re going to come so many times tonight, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. Every time you move and feel that twinge, it’ll be a reminder of how much you fucking own me.”
Holy hell.
There are no more words between us as he sweeps me up into his arms and carries me into the bedroom, where he makes good on every carnal promise.