Chapter 26 Penny #2
“No,” I say, shaking my head. But then I reconsider.
“Okay, yes to some of that. But I’m not here for you to apologize to me.
I’m here to apologize to you.” The surprise on Griffin’s face hurts my heart.
“I’m sorry for taking my fear out on you.
I’m sorry for making you feel like you’re not enough.
You are, Griffin. You’re amazing, and I think I understand why you did what you did. ”
“Could you explain it to me, then, because I feel like I’m always fucking up at every turn?
” He forces out a small chuckle, but it’s a front, a way to try to hide the negativity he’s heard so many times before that he’s internalized it, now hearing it from the narrator in his head.
His brain says that negative self-talk is wrong, but his gut says differently.
“Mr. Conniver actually did a great job of that, but Dominic’s going to claim it was his speech that got me to pull my head out of my ass.”
“We’re gonna let him keep thinking that, right?” Griffin asks, this time sounding genuinely amused.
I nod, grinning that he gets it. “Can I come in?”
He steps back from the doorway, letting me in. As he closes the door, silence reigns between us, awkwardness enveloping each of us individually. I’m trying to figure out how to right our course when we’ve gone so far astray. I think Griffin is just waiting to see what I’ll do.
Hoping that what started this in the first place can restart it, I step into him. He moves away like I might attack him, not stopping until his back is pressed to the front door.
He’s right. I am going to attack, but not the way he thinks. Because he’s also wrong. I’m not angry anymore. I’m sorry, I’m hopeful, and I really want to kiss him. I lift up to my toes, letting my hands find his chest. His heart pounds beneath my palm, beating just as fast as mine.
“Griffin,” I murmur, then take his mouth with mine.
He doesn’t move for a split second where I fear I’m the one who’s fubared us.
But miraculously, he groans in relief—or maybe desperation—and takes control of the kiss.
His hands cradle my face, his lips move against mine, and he tastes faintly of mint and chocolate.
One quick move, and he spins us, pinning me to the door.
One hand to the door’s surface and the other at my throat, he devours me while the world blissfully slips away and my entire focus becomes him and the desire building inside me.
But this is not only passion, it’s promises. Promises to do better, to be patient with one another, to not let ourselves get in our own way as we learn how to love each other.
When he presses his forehead to mine, I force my lids to open, finding him staring at me. His eyes have gone dark and hungry, but there’s pain flickering in their depths. “Penny, are you sure?”
“We should talk,” I say gently. Disappointment flashes across his face as he steps away to give me space, but I grab his shirt, gripping it in my fist and using it to pull him back, demanding he look at me again.
“To set up some expectations and boundaries so this doesn’t happen again in the future,” I clarify.
“The future?” he echoes dumbly.
Smirking sassily, I boop his nose, being gentle because I’m not sure if it’s still sore from my brother’s punches.
“You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?
” Not waiting for—or wanting—that answer, because I’m well aware that I have the potential to be a stage-five clinger-on-er where Griffin is concerned, I sit down on his couch, pulling a pillow into my lap and then patting the surface in invitation.
He lowers himself slowly, peering at me like he doesn’t trust me, which, to be fair, is understandable.
“I truly am sorry,” he starts, running his fingers through his hair.
In just the last few weeks, his hockey flow has gone insane.
The Hawks are superstitious and won’t cut their hair or shave during the playoffs, so it’ll be interesting to see how mountain man he gets. I think I might like it on him.
I wave a hand dismissively. “I think we’ve both apologized enough.
Mistakes were made, tears were shed, voodoo curses were chanted over NHL-authorized bobblehead figurines.
” His eyes widen in shock. “Oh, was that one just me?” I tease, smirking like I’m just kidding.
I’m actually not. I already have the bobblehead of Griffin, with his teeny-tiny signature printed on the bottoms of the feet like Woody in Toy Story.
The collectible has come in handy a few times over the years, like when he pissed me off or said something particularly hurtful.
“By the way, for no reason at all, how’s your butt feeling?
Any tingling, numbness, or sharp poking pains . . . say, around midnight last night?”
His brows climb sharply, his eyes saying, Seriously?
“Huh, guess it didn’t work, then. Noted.
” I scribble in the air like I’m actually taking note of that chicken nugget of information.
“To the matter at hand, or at heart, as the case may be—” I grin and his lips twitch like he’s fighting off a smile.
“Are you done pretending like I’m not the love of your life?
” I ask airily, flipping my hair over my shoulder.
He barks out a laugh. “Pen, I never wanted to pretend. I felt like I had to. So yeah, I’m done. I love you. I’ve always loved you. Even when I was acting like an asshole and making you think I hated you, I loved you.”
“I’m gonna hold you to your promise of a long, detailed apology to make up for some of that,” I warn, running a fingertip on the pillow’s tassel while sending a flirty look his way.
“Because I’m done pretending too. I’m scared this could get messy, and it definitely has the potential for dramatics, but ‘messy drama’ is basically my middle name, so I might not know the difference.
And you’re signing up for this knowing that I attract all manner of uncontrollable chaos, so that’s your poor decision-making in action.
” He’s definitely grinning now, and so am I.
“Besides, I wouldn’t want to face down scary shit like love with anyone else but you.
I mean, you took on the Mob for me.” The praise is well deserved because I don’t think anyone else would’ve done that for me.
But Griffin did. Without hesitation, and without wanting a trophy or applause or a cookie.
“We can figure out this whole relationship thing together. Starting with brutal, complete and total, no-holds-barred honesty. Don’t hide anything from me, ever. ”
I can see the hope trying to grow inside him, making his face seem boyish and his smile happy. But he tamps it down, still fighting, still doubting. “Deal. And on that note, while you’re making it sound all cute like we’re getting matching shirts—”
My whole face lights up at the idea of getting us those airbrushed shirts that say “I’m with him” and “I’m with her” with big red arrows pointing at each other, but before I can suggest wearing them to Thanksgiving at Mom and Dad’s this year, he keeps talking.
“You need to understand that I’m gonna make it hard to love me.
I overthink and obsess. I don’t trust. I’m gonna need pretty constant reassurance that you’re not screwing with my head and that this isn’t some sick prank.
Be patient with me. I’ll figure it out—how to love you the way you deserve, I mean.
I’ll figure it out and do my damnedest to make sure you never doubt the way I feel about you. ”
He pins me with a hard look, admitting, “Even with the best of intentions, I’m still gonna fuck up. I told you I would, I already did, and I will again. But I’ll do my best to never make the same mistake twice. I promise you that.”
This man still thinks he’s some sort of consolation prize I’m settling for, when he’s the biggest stuffed animal at the carnival, one of those you have to pay too much for and work smarter, not harder, to win by throwing softballs at a clown’s gaping but too-small-for-the-ball mouth hole.
“Of course you’ll make mistakes. You’re fucked up.
” I tap my temple the way he so often does, smiling softly.
“But I will, too, because I’ve never done this relationship thing either.
And I’m just as fucked up as you are.” He tilts his head, glaring at me doubtfully.
“All right, maybe not as bad, but I’ve got my own issues.
Like did you know that I apparently have a thing for mean guys who are secretly obsessed with me?
Or that I always wonder if my ass is too big the way my skating coach told me it was, but then I remember that it’s where I keep my superpowers because a timely hip roll from me can do a whole lot of damage or basically solve any problem?
” He shakes his head, fighting to hide a laugh, but I can tell it’s there, right in his chest, because I’m irresistible.
“And that’s okay. I think everyone’s a little messed up. Nobody’s perfect.”
There’s no reason to bemoan that fact. It’s just the truth.
Everyone’s got baggage. The important thing is how we deal with it.
Like you shouldn’t stuff it under the seat in front of you, acting like it fits when it’s obviously too big to be a carry-on and should’ve been checked into the cargo hold.
For Griffin and me, I intend to address any issues together, possibly naked, and with Chocolate Orgasm ice cream involved.
“Dominic, a.k.a. Mr. Perfect, would disagree with that on principle.”
“Which is an issue in and of itself.” The mention of my brother brings up another point. “Are the two of you okay?”
He nods hesitantly. “He told me you’re my problem now. Seemed kinda thrilled about it, honestly,” he says, completely deadpan.
“Rude,” I say, pushing him playfully. And annoying monster that he is, he doesn’t move an inch.
He laughs. “I didn’t say it. He did.”
“What’s up with my door?” I ask, remembering Dom’s order to ask Griffin.
Griffin’s eyes drop to his lap as he ducks his chin. “Um . . .”
“Nope, not doing that. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God, or I will—” I stumble, not sure how to finish that threat. And then I know. “Tickle it out of you.”
“I’m not ticklish,” he retorts, unconcerned.
“Challenge accepted,” I say gleefully, clapping my hands and already planning a sneak attack where I goose him and drop him to his knees, where I’ll then put that apology promise to good use. “Now, the door.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Griffin Mahoney is blushing.
But that can’t be the case. What in the world would embarrass a man like him?
I reach out to touch his cheek, testing the warmth, and find him burning up.
He catches my finger, presses a quick kiss to the fingertip, then releases me.
“You were supposed to be there and you weren’t answering, so we got scared something had happened to you.
Your DoorDash was sitting there, cold and old, and the Mob was hunting you, so it was a reasonable assumption. ”
“My eggs Benedict!” I wail, having forgotten all about that.
“We can order more,” he offers. “And you can eat it while I fix your door, because I busted through it to check on you. Where’d you order it from?
” He picks up his phone from the coffee table, finger poised to order a replacement eggs Benedict, but I didn’t miss that middle meat-and-cheese part of his sandwich speech.
“You broke down my door?” I repeat hollowly. That’s a lot. Like, a lot. He must’ve been so scared. “So it’s standing wide open right now?”
He shakes his head vehemently. “Of course not. Your neighbor came over to yell at us about being noisy. She’s the one who told us about Conniver’s guys being there. I told her I’d make it worth her while if she kept an eye on your place today.”
“Mrs. Rosenthal is babysitting my apartment?” I say doubtfully. “She’s probably having a yard sale on the sidewalk, selling all our stuff and pocketing the money for herself.”
Griffin blanches. “She wouldn’t.”
“Oh yeah, she would,” I argue. “But it’s okay. Dom said he was going over there. I’m gonna trust that he’ll handle it, and if anything’s missing, I’ll take it out on him, never letting him live it down.”
“Do that. Blame Dom,” he readily agrees. “Do you still want me to order a replacement eggs Benedict?” He waves his phone, reminding me.
But I’m hungry for something else. Well, maybe two things. “Why do you taste like Thin Mints?”
He laughs. “I’ve been searching for them and finally found them. They’re in my freezer, and when I got here, I thought I’d try your method of eating my feelings. You want some?”
That is so sweet, and yes, I do want a celebratory cookie, but when he tries to get up from the couch, I launch myself at him, stopping him.
“Later. First, I want you,” I purr.