29. Chapter 29
Chapter twenty-nine
Sam
GRIFFIE
Hey, sis. You have time to meet me for dinner tonight or tomorrow? We haven’t caught up in a while.
ME
Well, you’ve been a little busy with the whole wedding and honeymoon thing. You shouldn’t have had time for me.
GRIFFIE
I have time now. You free?
ME
Tonight is better than tomorrow. I’ll even go to Capital without putting up a fight.
GRIFFIE
Good thing because I already made reservations there for both nights.
ME
You would.
GRIFFIE
7:00 ok?
ME
Yep. See you then.
After a full day of styling hair and listening to clients’ stories, I stop at my apartment long enough to change into Capital Grille–appropriate attire and drive to the Plaza to meet Griffin.
He was right that we haven’t caught up just the two of us in a while.
It’s been a little odd to transition from years of seeing each other practically every day to hardly having any one-on-one time.
I’m happy that he has new priorities with Danae and Jason, and I’m happy that I have new demands on my time between work and dating Adrian.
But I’m also excited to spend some solo time with my big brother tonight.
I find a parking spot close to Capital, so I don’t bother with the valet. When I check in at the host stand, the hostess leads me to a table in the back corner of the restaurant instead of the bar.
This isn’t just catching up. There’s an agenda to this conversation.
As I slide into the booth across from Griffin, I catch the flicker of apprehension in his eyes that he swiftly covers up with a smile.
“Hey, Sam!” he greets.
“Griffie,” I reply, making him roll his eyes.
“Quit it,” he scoffs. “I’m a married man. No little-kid nicknames anymore.”
“A married man and a dad,” I amend. His smile returns. “That must feel pretty incredible to have Jason start calling you ‘Dad,’ huh?”
He turns to mush. “It definitely is. He’s kept it up too. I wasn’t expecting it of him anytime soon, if ever. I would have followed his lead if he stuck with ‘Griffin’ for the rest of his life. But it feels special, even if it’s bittersweet and complicated at the same time.”
My smile is contemplative when I observe, “A tension of emotions we’re well acquainted with.”
We’re interrupted by Jeff coming to the table with drinks in each hand.
He sets Griffin’s usual in front of him, then presents me with my usual—a blueberry-lime mocktail made with kombucha and sparkling water.
He’s grinning as he says, “I’ve missed seeing you in here, Sam!
I still keep a bottle of berry kombucha in the fridge in case you come in. ”
Clapping my hands over my heart, I ask, “Do you really?”
He nods and says, “I couldn’t claim Griffin West’s personal bartender status if I didn’t keep his people’s drinks in stock. But it sounds like you need to come in here with a certain someone else sometime.” Jeff waggles his eyebrows, making me laugh.
“I’m sure I can talk Adrian into it,” I say. “Maybe after the season is over the four of us will come in for a double date.”
Jeff points to both of us and says, “I’m holding you to it. There’s enough kombucha left for a second drink, and I’ll show Noah how to make it. Have your server let me know when you’re ready for round two.”
When Jeff walks away, the server stops by to take our order. As soon as it’s just the two of us again, I narrow my eyes and ask, “Why are you ambushing me?”
Griffin inhales a sip of his drink and coughs. “I’m not ambushing you.”
Tipping my drink in the direction of the bar, I say, “If we were casually catching up, we’d be sitting at the bar chatting it up with Jeff too. We’re in the private conversation booth.”
Although Griffin has an “I’ve been caught” look, he doubles down. “I’m not ambushing you. I do want to catch up. But I want to catch up about some things that are maybe more private than a bar-sitting conversation.”
He leans his forearms on the table and asks, “How are you doing?” His tone is infused with that Griffin warmth that’s so genuine, I can’t even pretend to be upset about this conversation.
And I know exactly what he’s asking.
“I don’t know,” I confess honestly. “I’m confused with myself. Because I think that I’m really, really happy. I think that I—”
Stopping short, I drop eye contact, spinning my glass on the table.
“You think that you what?” Griffin’s voice is gentle. The same voice that has compassionately pried so much honest information out of me over the years. The voice that has spoken needed truth after listening to me process all of my confused emotions and insecurities.
I look back up to his eyes. “I think that I love Adrian. Like, for real love him. Not just the idea of love. Not just happy having a relationship. Him. Adrian Ortiz. The man who feels like my best friend ever and also so much more. But how am I supposed to trust my own feelings when I’ve been so wrong in the past? ”
Griffin’s eyes scan my face, my body language. I know he’s piecing together clues from all of my cues. I take a sip of my drink to stop myself from chewing the inside of my cheek.
“Have you talked with Amber recently?” Griffin asks.
Nodding, I say, “Yes. I checked in with her last weekend, actually.”
He nods approval. “What did she have to say?”
Shrugging, I answer, “I described where Adrian and I are at in our relationship and what our interactions are like. She thinks I can trust myself more based on what I shared. But I still don’t know if I’m allowed to love him already when we’ve only been dating for seven weeks.
Or is that unhealthy-attachment Sam talking? ”
“Are you externally processing or asking for feedback?” Griffin asks.
Holding my hands out to either side, I say, “Lay it on me.”
Griffin clasps his hands and looks down, gathering thoughts.
“We both know this is different with Adrian. Different than Tucker or Ryan or that other loser. You and Adrian go way back—a lot longer than seven weeks. You have years of friendship as a foundation for your relationship. Not to mention he had his eye on you for a long time before he ever asked you out.” He pauses for a beat before adding, “I’ve been with you through a lot—a lot of extremely hard seasons.
Nothing about this is like those past relationships. ”
Hope lifts in my chest.
Griffin asks, “How much have you talked with Adrian about your history?”
The hope deflates.
Spinning my glass with renewed vigor, I look down and say, “Ummm, not a whole lot.”
I’d like to avoid eye contact because I know exactly what look is going to be on Griffin’s face. I keep spinning the glass, hoping he’ll say something to break the silence. When he doesn’t, I sigh and meet his “come on, Sam” look.
“You have a solid foundation of friendship for your relationship,” Griffin reiterates.
“But there will forever be cracks in the foundation if you don’t fill in the gaps for Adrian.
I haven’t told him a lot because I want to honor what’s yours to share.
But he needs to know, Sam. He deserves to understand you. ”
Panic flutters in my chest. “But I’ve done a lot of growth work in the last five years. A lot. Amber even said so. If past things aren’t going to be an issue, if I can handle them now, then maybe I don’t need to dump everything on him. Why drag him down if I’m able to hold it together?”
Griffin’s expression borders on stern. “Sam, you know that’s not how it works.”
“But maybe it can!” My voice has spiked higher than private-conversation level, and I swallow hard to lower my heart rate and my tone. “Maybe I can.”
My chin trembles, and I look down, voice cracking when I say, “I love him. I don’t want to lose him.”
Griffin’s hand clasps mine, and I meet his gaze.
“Give Adrian some credit. Your past isn’t going to scare him away,” Griffin states, tone tender but firm. “But it’s not fair to him to expect to have a healthy relationship when he doesn’t have all the information. Maybe talk with Amber about it and see what she thinks.”
Sputtering a breath through my lips, I confess, “She already told me the same thing. That I need to share with him.”
Griffin lifts one hand with a wordless I told you so.
“So why haven’t you?” he asks.
I can’t stop the flood of tears to my eyes.
Wildly twirling the glass in front of me with my free hand, truth tumbles out.
“Because I’m ashamed. Because I wish it didn’t exist. Because I wish I could just be better, be normal.
Because I want to be able to handle this myself without dragging other people down with me.
Because I wish I wasn’t so messed up that it required a trauma conversation with my boyfriend. ”
Pressure uncomfortably mounts in my chest, and I wish I wasn’t in public so I could tap my hands against my sternum without looking like a lunatic.
Griffin pries my hand away from the glass, caging both my hands between his and pressing them firmly together. The gentle pressure helps ground me in the moment, keeps me from completely spiraling.
“You’re not messed up, Sam. We love you. Me. Danae and Jason. Mom and Dad. Sawyer, Miranda, Ian, Alice. You haven’t drug anyone down. Our lives are better with you in them, and we all love you one hundred percent, forever,” Griffin says.
His use of Danae’s “I love you” explanation phrase for Jason hits me with a new wave of emotion. Exhaling slowly, I twist my face to wipe my tears on my shoulder without letting go of Griffin’s hands.
I can tell he’s contemplating his next words, so I wait silently until he says, “At the risk of saying something too far ahead of where you are in your relationship, I think I can include Adrian in that list. I think you’ve found your person in Adrian.
So let him be your person—let him know you.
All of you. He deserves that. You deserve that, Sam. ”
Griffin gives my hands an abrupt squeeze, a silent signal that the server is bringing plates to the table. I quickly pretend to search for something in my purse while he thanks the server.
When I look back to Griffin, I can see in his face that it’s my turn to talk. My turn to respond. My turn to admit he’s right.
But words are frozen in my chest, a massive block of incoherent emotions and fears.
I stare at Griffin, and I know he can see everything in my eyes.
After a few more seconds of silence, he says, “I agree with Amber. I do think you can trust yourself more in this relationship. But you also need to trust Adrian. Maybe try journaling again. Write out how you might explain things. You could even read it straight to him so you don’t have to think of words on the spot.
At least promise me you’ll think about it. ”
Clearing my throat, I shake free enough words to whisper, “I will. I promise.”
It’s a promise I know I should keep.
But I’ve never been more afraid to keep a promise.