Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
RUMORS
Griffin
All of our friends from Holly Creek gathered at the penthouse before the West Games Benefit.
Sophie and Keaton arrived first; Sophie swept Jessa into a hug like they’d been best friends for years.
Through Sophie, all of her people had become mine—her family and friends, her world—and they’d welcomed me without hesitation.
It was a strange, perfect mix of old money and small towns, like Rex and Richard with their wives, Chelsea and Vivian.
Maisy Calhoun walked in with her architect-turned-professor husband, Brooks, both polished and unflappable.
His twin, Archer, hovered close to his very-pregnant wife, Penny, eyes never leaving her.
They all toasted our engagement, admiring Jessa’s ring. I played off any talk of wedding plans, blaming the need to see this IPO through before I could focus on anything else. Surrounded by so many real couples, I couldn’t shake the sense that I was the imposter in my own home.
Richard kept everyone entertained with stories from his little upstate farmette containing Scottish Highlander cows, goats, horses, and chickens.
His daughter Paris chimed in with more small-town stories, and had volunteered to watch Theo during the West benefit tonight.
He was thrilled, soaking up her attention, begging me to take him to see the cows soon.
“Once the IPO’s behind you,” Richard said, clapping my shoulder, “what’s left but to play rancher and count livestock?”
I’d always been a city man, where the steel and glass served as my pasture, concrete my soil.
But watching Jessa blend so easily among them, laughing with Sophie, chatting with Chelsea, glowing in a way I’d never seen before, it was impossible not to wonder if there might be something else waiting for us beyond all this.
Once the IPO and my contract with Jessa were over… Could there be more? Could this be us? Could I settle down like these other men had?
Before followed that thought down a spiral, Maisy lifted a notebook from the kitchen counter, flipping through pages. “What’s this?” She angled the book. “Jessa, did you draw these?”
Jessa flushed. “Oh—those are nothing. Doodles.”
“Not doodles,” Maisy admired. “They look like illustrations. Are they for a children’s book?”
The room hushed. Jessa bit her lip, glanced at me, then back to Maisy.
“Just ideas for stories. They’re probably terrible,” she admitted, with the smallest voice I’d ever heard from her. She shrugged it away.
“She tells me stories about Blaze, the hockey-playing dragon. He’s awesome,” Theo piped up with a grin.
“She does?” I turned to Jessa, taking her in like I was seeing her for the first time. “Interesting.”
Her blush deepened. “I’ve never written a book before. I got inspired, I guess.”
Richard nodded thoughtfully at the drawings Maisy held up for everyone to see. “I know some editors and agents. I’ll connect you. Let’s see where it goes.”
Jessa’s eyes widened. “Really. Thank you. I mean maybe.”
“Or,” Keaton added, grinning, “if whatever’s keeping you in New York doesn’t stick, come home. Hops could sure use you.”
“Haven’t you replaced me yet?” Jessa raised an eyebrow.
“You’re irreplaceable.”
Sophie smacked his arm. “Stop, Keaton. She’s thriving here. Don’t listen to him, Jessa. New York looks good on you.”
She and I locked eyes. We both heard it—If whatever’s keeping you in New York doesn’t stick.
The contract stood between Jessa and me like a ticking clock. When time ran out, we’d both teeter on a cliff’s edge, jumping back into our old lives.
Why did the idea suddenly terrify me?
Later, when everyone dispersed to get dressed, I joined Jessa in the bedroom. “Can I see your book ideas?”
“Sure.” She hesitated, then pulled another sketchpad out of the drawer of the nightstand.
I flipped through simple, yet vivid drawings of a boy and his nanny, partners in mischief, learning as they went. In the background, a father blurred there, busy, distant—but loving. Always loving.
“These are good,” I said, and it sounded mechanical to my own ears.
“They’re just ideas.” Her voice small again, but hopeful.
“I didn’t know you could draw.”
“Neither did I until one day I started. I’d always been able to tell stories to my sisters and to Theo, but never thought about putting images with them.”
“You have something here.”
“No. Only something to pass the time.” She dismissed it easily.
“If it’s what you want—go for it. This could be good for you after you’re done here.”
We locked eyes again, so much going unsaid. Things that I couldn’t put into words. My heart stuttered.
I finally cleared my throat. “We should go soon.”
I carried a strange ache with me into the living room, letting the noise and laughter of the others drown it out.
A few minutes later, Jessa reappeared.
Every head turned.
I forgot to breathe. The red gown fit her like it had been poured on her. Hair swept up; diamond studs catching the light. I offered a hand.
“Breathtaking.” My voice came out rough, unguarded. I pressed a kiss to her cheek so as not to smudge her lipstick.
Her mouth curved. “Your face makes being stuffed into this dress worth it.”
Whatever shadows I’d been drowning in, they faded. She was with me. I’d march in to the benefit proudly with her at my side. We’d impress the hell out of everyone. That was all that mattered tonight.
The moment our car slowed at the Plaza Hotel, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
PI: My findings on Jessa Cole are complete. Must speak with you.
A knot pulled tight under my ribs.
“Is everything okay?” Jessa asked, adjusting a shoulder strap of her gown.
“Work,” I clipped, pocketing the phone as Brock opened the door for us. “It can wait.”
I stepped out and nodded at Brock. He’d keep close by us all night to watch over things, not that I expected any trouble, merely a precaution I liked to take when in a large, crowded event like this.
I turned and took Jessa’s hand. The moment she unfolded from the car, flashbulbs attacked us like crazy.
“You two look amazing,” Brock said.
“Thank you so much,” she gushed. To me, she whispered, as we stepped away: “That means a lot coming from him. He hardly ever says a word.”
We paused on the steps outside and smiled for the cameras.
She did her usual spiel about the designer gown she wore.
I forced myself not to fidget with my tie.
One side of me knew how to put on a show, how perceptions were everything.
The other side of me felt the knot climb higher into my throat, worried about what I’d find in the private investigator’s report.
The ballroom was a choreography of crystal and gold, with a string quartet playing elegant music, chandeliers casting spells with the light, and five hundred guests shining in formal wear and gowns.
We made the rounds. I introduced her to contacts I’d spent a decade earning, one handshake at a time. CEOs. A senator or two. She charmed all of them—poised without pretense, warm without fawning.
“She’s a natural,” Gary murmured as we passed. “You’re a lucky man, Griffin.”
Wasn’t I?
Dinner proceeded over seven immaculate courses.
Sam and a few others spoke at the podium first. When it was my turn to give the keynote, Jessa’s fingers briefly squeezed mine beneath the linen.
I rose from the head table, and stood tall at the podium, remembering my father doing the same so many times.
I delivered the speech I’d practiced for weeks, with a message of vision and values, and listing the various charities that would benefit from tonight’s event. When I finished, the guests applauded, hitting like thunder.
“You were incredible,” Jessa whispered when I sat. She leaned in and pressed her lips to mine. I overheard a few women at a nearby table going on about how right we seemed together, and how I was off the market at last.
Yes, we made a perfect show of it, beating down any negative perception of me. But whatever my private investigator turned up about Jessa weighed on me. Must speak with you, he’d said in his text, without any indication if it was something that could blow all this up or not.
Shortly after, we started mingling with the guests. It wasn’t long before I spotted my investigator hovering off to the side near Brock, trying to be invisible. He lifted a hand, a small wave to call me over.
I glanced at Jessa. She was surrounded by people who loved her—Vivian had engaged her in a chat, Richard listening, Brooks and Archer nearby, Penny glowing.
“I’ll be right back.” I gave her a wink and slipped away from her.
The P.I. led me into a quiet side corridor lined with framed Plaza memorabilia. There, he handed me some papers.
“I wouldn’t have come, but I know you’ve been waiting for my report,” he hinted, pitch low.
I flipped the cover. COLE FAMILY – FINANCIAL OVERVIEW. It always surprised me how much background information he could dig up. I never questioned his methods; he got paid handsomely for thoroughness and his silence, a relationship that carried over from my father to me.
The report listed many things. Medical debt. Credit cards. Rental evictions. Loans. It wasn’t ruin, but certainly a tough overview of a struggling family. The father was listed as MIA.
“And this part?” I tapped a page in the back: UNVERIFIED COMMUNITY REPORTS. My mouth went dry.
“Holly Creek gossip,” he said. “That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I went up there for a few days, followed her family around to complete my investigation with qualitative observation. I overheard the mother telling someone at a diner how her daughter had left town because she was pregnant and wanted a fresh start in the city. No father named.”
“Pregnant?” My eyebrows shot to my hairline. He might as well have punched me by how gutted this reveal made me.
“But it’s not confirmed. Can’t manage that because of privacy laws, obviously—but I cross-checked what I could. The rumor mill has weight up there.”