CHAPTER ONE #3
I want to dive into the tension I heard behind his words, but my sister carries on.
She’s the professional networker of the family, so I know to just sit down and take a backseat.
“I’m getting married in August. I hope you and the family can come.
Casey and her boyfriend Jake will be joining, isn’t that right?
” Claire elbows me, and I offer up what I hope looks like a normal smile.
“That’s right. Wouldn’t miss my big sister’s wedding for the world.”
Griffin’s gaze shifts to me, and I swear there’s a flash of disappointment.
I’m probably imagining it, because I’m sure he’s already married by now.
We’re thirty, that’s when you’re supposed to have your life together, if you’re not me.
And Griffin is way too handsome and successful to not have snagged a wife by now, or at least a serious girlfriend.
Maybe he has mini-Griffin hockey players running around and I haven’t met them yet.
But I can’t ask. I almost don’t want to know. I just want to go back to that moment when almost every inch of my body was smashed against his.
“I’ll ask my mom later,” Griffin says good-naturedly. “I’m sure she’s planning on going. And I might be her plus-one, so I’ll probably be there too.”
Claire lets out one of her tinkling laughs, the odd-yet-melodic kind she reserves for social situations.
In private, she snort-laughs, which is too uncouth for her public persona.
“I would love that. After all, we don’t have too many more excuses to celebrate as we get older.
It would be fun to hang with the Keegans for a night. ”
“That’s right,” Griffin says. “Other than weddings, it’s just birthdays and graduation parties.”
“And honestly, I try not to think about my graduation party,” Claire says in a stage whisper.
She sends a severe look my way coupled with an exaggerated frown.
She’s doing it for show, but it makes a thorny heat blossom in my gut.
She’s never let me forget what happened at her graduation party, i.e.
, the way in which I ruined her life. It was the last time I remember her treating me like she used to—not like chaos on legs, but like her kid sister who she loved.
I’m desperate to move the conversation past this, especially in front of Griffin. So I look around for one of those waiters with the trays of champagne flutes.
“I gotta try one of these cocktails,” I gush, signaling to the nearest waiter.
I want to appear unaffected, as though my sister’s comment doesn’t have the power to completely derail me.
But the truth is, her words were lined with acid, and they are currently disintegrating my gut. “Have you had one, Griffin?”
He turns as the waiter approaches. Claire sniffs, uninterested. I’m too bubbly, too buzzy, too eager to move past her snide comment. As I grab the flute, the smooth plastic slips out of my fingers, and it tips.
Toward me.
The entire glass spills down the front of my dress. My jaw drops and all I can think of is how cold it is…and how dumb I feel, yet again, at my sister’s side.
Just like always.
Claire rolls her lips inward, watching me with a mix of amusement and pity. “Just take a breath, Casey. You get so worked up sometimes.”
Griffin says nothing as he heads to the table behind him, then returns a moment later with a stack of napkins. He offers them to me with a sly grin.
“Your dress is drunk,” he says as I take the napkins from him. The comment inspires a genuine laugh, which helps me feel less like a dumbass as I pat the huge wet stain on my chest and over my stomach.
Claire excuses herself as someone from the city council approaches, leaving me and Griffin to ourselves. I sigh, dabbing at the huge stain.
“Good ole Clumsy Casey strikes again,” I mutter. “Can’t take me anywhere.”
“Your dress wanted a taste. It’s understandable. You don’t share with your clothes enough, clearly.”
I shake with silent laughter as I do my best to make myself look normal again. When I’m finished, Griffin has champagne flutes in each hand.
“This one’s just for you,” he says, handing me one. “Do not share it with the cotton sundress.”
“It’s linen,” I say.
“Oh.” He reels back, feigning a serious look. “Well, linen loves cocktails so you’ll probably spill again.”
I can’t fight the ear-to-ear grin. I wish I could tell him how much he’s helping right now—the way in which he pulled me out of a sister-inspired spiral before I could get lost in it.
It doesn’t seem like casual conversation after not seeing someone for a decade, so instead I say, “I’ll take my chances.
But this does mean you need to spill a drink on yourself, too. ”
His brow lifts. “Tit for tat?”
“Cock for tail.”
His brows furrow together just like mine as we both work through what I said. Then we burst out laughing at the same time.
“That made no sense, but I like it.” He lifts his flute, and we tap them together gently. “Cheers, Casey.”
For a moment, everything feels perfect. The warmth spreading through me, the spring air, the brute manliness of Griffin in front of me. There’s a small voice in the back of my head, and it’s saying Let’s stay here for a while.
Being around my family has never felt easy, but there’s always been something deceptively simple about being around Griffin.
That hasn’t changed.
I just wonder if he feels it too.