Chapter 22
SELENA
I know Griffin and I are joking, but his history is troubling. I wonder how long it will be until he cheats on me.
I'm quiet, just thinking of what might transpire. I'm not morose or angry; I just know who I married. A man who needed a contract to secure a wife.
“When?” Griffin asks quietly. We are seated in the back of his town car, heading to the restaurant.
“What?” I look at him, my train of thought disrupted.
“When,” he repeats.
“When what?”
“When will I cheat on you? That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
He voices the exact concern I’ve been pondering.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. That’s one thing we do have—the truth. I don’t want us to start lying to each other now. “I guess when I’m big and pregnant. Or near the end of the year... when were you planning it? Or have you already?”
I’m surprised that I start choking up. “I guess it depends on who... maybe one of the receptionists?”
I’m feeling flushed and nauseous. I’m quickly losing my appetite.
“Never,” he says quietly, but clearly. “Not ever during our marriage.”
I feel like I might pass out.
“Are you okay?” He touches my arm. “You look pale.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I’m just lightheaded.”
He reaches over and tips my chin up, scanning my face.
“We’ll eat with Beckett after your appointment. I want him to see you right now.” He takes out his phone and starts texting. While he’s typing, he speaks. “I’m going to answer your question, just give me a minute.”
He finishes his text and returns his gaze to my face.
“Selena.”
I try to swallow but find I can’t. “Yes,” I barely breathe.
“Why would you think I’m going to cheat on you?”
Breathe, Selena. Just take one breath, then another.
“You’ve cheated on all of them. El, the receptionist... you were looking for someone else when I met you.” Oh, I hate this feeling. “El mentioned that I’d won the temp lottery and that you and I are fake, which we are. I feel like they’re taking bets on when our marriage is going to fail.”
I’m starting to hyperventilate.
Griffin grabs a cold water bottle out of the fridge sunken between our seats. Instead of opening it, he presses the cool plastic against my flushed cheek.
“Breathe, Selena. Slow breaths.”
For a moment, we are silent until my breathing steadies.
He then leans forward, lifts me off the seat, and scoops me into his lap.
I feel like a child, but I also have a strange sense of protection.
I realize in that moment how breakable I’ve been, and I think he’s doing all in his power to keep me whole.
“They can say whatever they want,” he tells me, his voice low and stern. “But they don’t get to define us. Or you.”
I rest my head against his chest.
“They know you married to save your reputation, but they think I’ve done it for the money.”
He laughs, the sound reverberating against my cheek.
“I gave you a paltry amount for clothes and decor. Your grandest purchase to date is a one-hundred-fifty-dollar butterfly necklace. Which is very pretty, by the way.” He touches it softly.
“And eighty-nine dollars on a roach motel. This leaves you twelve thousand three hundred and sixty-one dollars of your weekly allowance.”
“Weekly?” I’m completely shocked. “I thought you were paying me after our marriage ended.”
“Yes. But I also promised you a stipend. It’s Monday, so this week’s money has already been deposited into your account.”
“Skip it. I don’t need more,” I protest.
He puts a finger to my lips.
“Which is why you’re not a gold digger. You’re not even a gold scratcher. You are so far from the gold I need to send you a map just to find your own bank account.” He laughs.
“Okay, so don’t listen to them. I get it,” I sigh, still uneasy.
He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “I will not cheat on you, Selena, because I married you. I didn’t marry them.
I never once said they were anything more than fun.
Wanting more from me was a fault in their judgment because I wasn’t able to give it.
But I promised you I would be faithful for a year.
I can do that.” He kisses the top of my head.
My heart warms a little. “Okay. At least I don’t have to worry for a year,” I say, trying to wiggle off his lap.
“Let them choke on their jealousy. I don’t care.
And stop trying to run.” His grip tightens.
“I’m only giving you one year because I want you to know that you can leave.
.. because in a year’s time, that’s what you’ll want to do.
” He lays his head back against the seat.
“An incredible woman like you deserves to be with a better man.”
“You keep saying that.” I touch his face; it’s smooth now, freshly shaved. “What if I don’t want to go?”
He lifts his head to look at me. “As long as we are married, I will be with you. Okay?”
A tear streams down my face. It’s just been too much.
“Okay.”
He kisses my lips and pulls a tissue from the box to wipe my eyes.
“And when you’re ready to leave, you let me know.”
Beckett’s office is more like a gentleman’s lounge than a medical suite. It has dark mahogany panels, brass fixtures, and old books lining the shelves. It smells faintly of leather and antiseptic.
Beckett leans back in his chair and flips through a file on a sleek tablet.
“Are those my medical records?” I ask.
“Yes. We have a system—a very pricey one—that allows me access to anyone’s file as long as I have their social security number. Appendix out at nine? Yikes. That must have been terrifying.” He flashes me a dashing smile.
Beckett is a few years younger than Griffin, but they share the same mature, confident energy. I can tell by the way they interact that they have been friends for a lifetime. Their calm demeanor eases my nerves.
“I thought it was the beef stroganoff, but I got to spend a few nights in the hospital and eat all the Jell-O I wanted. Every flavor.”
Griffin visibly shivers. “Oh God, now I might be sick. There’s nothing more vile than Jell-O. Our child shall never eat it.”
“It’s God’s food... what are you talking about?”
Both Beckett and Griffin look at me like I just sprouted a third head.
“Our kids aren’t really big fans either,” Beckett chimes in. “Scarlett insists on this Whole Foods organic brand that’s a little gummy. Maybe that’s why.”
Griffin looks nauseous. “Stop it, both of you. Glah... no Jell-O. I’m going to have rights as a father, and that is one I’m sticking to.”
I smile at Griffin. “Hateful... just hateful,” I tease.
I’m sitting on the exam table wearing my dress and heels. Beckett only had me disrobe for the scans. We’d been there an hour already, and I was starving. Griffin sits next to me, periodically reaching out to take my hand like Beckett is about to deliver a death sentence.
“So?” Griffin asks, voice low and impatient. “Tell me she’s okay.”
Beckett looks up, eyes clear and sharp. “She’s okay.”
I let out a slow breath. Griffin squeezes my hand.
“It’s nothing terminal or serious,” Beckett continues, offering a supportive smile. “You’re nauseous, vomiting, exhausted, and emotionally raw, but not because of anything catastrophic. You have gastroptosis.”
I blink. “Gastro-what?”
“Gastroptosis. It’s a benign condition where your stomach sits lower than normal.
It can cause severe nausea and bloating.
It happens when stress and hormonal changes hit all at once.
” Beckett glances meaningfully at Griffin.
“Things like a sudden pregnancy, unresolved emotional trauma, and a surprise marriage can definitely exacerbate it.”
I flush with embarrassment. “I knew it wasn’t just the baby.”
Beckett smiles warmly. “It’s manageable. Small meals, rest, light movement. You’ll feel better in a couple of weeks. I can recommend a specialist if you want a second opinion.”
“She doesn’t need a second opinion,” Griffin says, bringing my hand to his lips. “Do you?”
I shake my head. “I’m good. Thank you, Beckett.”
“Fantastic. I’m starving. Parson’s Deli is calling my name. I can practically taste the brisket.” Beckett closes his eyes, savoring the thought.
“I’m sure Selena is starving too,” Griffin says, helping me down.
“Well, I did have all that yummy barium liquid.”
Both men make gagging noises, and I laugh, relieved that my stomach distress is real and manageable. For a moment, I thought it was all in my head.
At the deli, which is more of a high-end speakeasy serving kosher food, we sit in a booth at the back. I nurse a bowl of chicken noodle soup while Griffin two-hands a massive steak hoagie.
“I’ve done all the paperwork,” Griffin says around a mouthful. “After Selena’s family visits, I’m going to approach David Mason to offer the deal. Kevin is on board.”
“What kind of circus did you need to perform to get a sign-off on this venture? After ten years, you are finally going to pull this off. I’m impressed,” Beckett says.
“It took two weeks of daily meetings, a marriage to a beautiful woman,” Griffin flashes me a smile, “and a solid restructuring plan that will streamline our cases.” Griffin raises his beer. Beckett clinks his stein against it.
“To partner,” I say, clinking my soda water against their glasses.
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Griffin says, giving me a sweet smile. I see just a little bit of pride in it. “How’s that going down?”
“This is sincerely the best chicken noodle soup I’ve ever had.”
“The medicine I prescribed should help your appetite,” Beckett adds. “You were my last patient, so after this, I get to go home and watch Love Island with Scarlett. We’re addicted.”
For one second, I envy Beckett’s normal life with his real wife. Griffin must sense my feelings because he rubs my leg under the table.
“We should check it out,” he says lovingly, knowing we probably won’t.