Chapter 23
GRIFFIN
It’s refreshing to see Selena so happy.
I am trying to adjust to the turmoil her family has caused.
As soon as her sister walked through the front door, they rushed into each other’s arms.
The children’s mouths gaped open as they looked around the penthouse.
Don was all business. “Where would you like me to put these?” he asked, wrangling the luggage.
“Just leave it in the hall. My staff will take care of it. I’m Griffin,” I offered my hand to both Celeste and Don.
I ordered double the staff and contracted twice the number of hours, so we have a chef on call at all times.
The housekeeper leads the family up to the two guest rooms, and the butler delivers the luggage. First on the agenda is a pool party, and they’ve gone to change into their suits.
Celeste is polite and kind, and I can see a family resemblance, but Selena is clearly the beauty in the family.
Her husband is rugged and handsome, but a little too rough-cut for my tastes.
I know that Selena is nervous and hopes I like them, so I don’t let my irritation show. I can do anything for three days.
A crash alerts me that something has broken upstairs. I wince. Selena stops gathering towels and is about to race upstairs to the rescue, but I hold her arm.
“I think your sister’s got it,” I say, listening to the commotion.
“Clive, I told you not to swing your sweater around! Thank God it’s not broken.” A little more clattering, and whatever dropped is put back in its rightful place.
No amount of preparation could have fully prepared me for their arrival. Celeste and her sons are always in motion, and Don—a mountain of a man with forearms like granite—seems to be judging every single thing in my home. In fact, worse than the noise and chaos is the scrutiny.
“Cliff, shoes off the table, please,” Celeste calls out. Bless her, she’s doing her best.
“I’m sorry,” Selena says, looking sorrowful.
“No more sorries.” I place my finger on Selena’s lips. “I’m doing fine.”
She gives me a relieved smile. “Thank you for having them.”
I nod, not quite ready to embrace the crazy that has descended upon us. The first thing Celeste said when she entered my home was, “This place is...” She glanced around at the minimalist decor, the soaring ceilings, and gleaming white everything. “...quiet.”
And it hasn’t been since. Her four-year-old—Clive, I believe—threw up on the cream sectional. I teased Selena that she and her nephew had that in common.
“Okay, you have jokes,” Selena said sweetly.
The six-year-old, Cliff, has used the banister as a climbing wall, and the toddler, Clay, randomly bursts into tears for no discernible reason.
The family tradition is to use matching names, so with Cliff, Clive, and Clay—all towheaded boys—I have no idea who is who.
Apparently, they are pregnant with a girl. .. Claire. What a joy.
I mean that with all the sarcasm I can muster.
“I’m thinking of Clobber if ours is a boy,” Selena says as she balances a pile of towels in her arms, grinning devilishly.
“There’s always Clytemnestra?” I try to play along.
“Chlamydia.”
She can’t help but smile wider.
“The Clap, for short.”
She’s giggling now, and so am I.
I follow Selena up the stairs to the pool. It’s almost four in the afternoon. We figure with a vigorous swim, a hearty meal, and a movie, the kids will pass out, leaving the adults to have a talk. Tomorrow is the Bronx Zoo. Sunday is brunch at Beckett’s, followed by the great pack-up and push-off.
I keep telling myself I can get through this.
Don steps onto the deck wearing loose-fitting knee-length swim trunks and a shirt that says I keep all my dad jokes in a dad-a-base. I shudder at what I might become.
“Thanks for having us, Grif.” Both Selena and I visibly cringe at him truncating my name.
“I was thinking of grilling something. I noticed you have a Blackstone. We love ours, and I thought maybe some burgers and dogs might do us tonight? The boys love ‘em. I can run out to the market if you don’t have any handy.”
“You’re certainly welcome to grill if you’d like. I know the chef has wagyu beef. Not sure about hot dogs, but we probably have several kinds of sausages. Let me text him.”
“Right, a chef. I mean, if he’s got stuff planned... it’s just the kids don’t eat sissy food.”
Sissy food. Well.
“I mean like prissy stuff.”
Not doing better.
Selena is actually cringing at this point.
“Yes, well. I made sure we have plenty of chicken nuggets, chips, and apple slices for your growing boys. Selena gave me a brief overview of what they like. If you prefer cooking yourself, I can give the chef a shopping list. No point in going to the store.”
I am very proud of myself for holding my shit together, but I believe my eye is twitching.
“I’ll grill, man. I got this. We don’t need any high-brow chef.” He’s joking. I know he’s joking, and I try to laugh, but it comes out more like a choke.
The thought crosses my mind: I might kill him.
“Well, great. Let me set these floaties down, and I’ll speak to the chef. We’ll sort out the beef situation.”
“You’re a prince,” he says.
I’m about to punch him in the throat. I’m a member of a secret society teeming with killers, and I manage one of the biggest East Coast law firms, and he calls me a prince? Three days have never seemed so long.
Chef and his assistant bring trays of meat and veggies up to the grill. Don begins to scrutinize the spread, and I begin to fume.
“Come here, Prince,” Selena says, beckoning me over to one of the cabanas.
She threads her fingers through my hair and smiles at me. “You look miserable.”
“I know.” I look at her carefully. “How are you feeling?”
She tries to lie. “I’m fine. Happy my sister is here.”
She’s pale, and her hands are clammy. She hasn’t eaten much—again.
“I need you to eat something. Is a wagyu burger going to be too much?” I stroke her hair away from her face.
“There’s salad and corn. Don’s grilled corn is actually pretty good.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “All he can really do is grill.” Her smile is adorable.
“I kind of figured.” I bring her in and kiss her passionately.
“Oh, sorry,” I hear her sister say.
I look over and see Celeste with an armful of water wings, goggles, and flippers.
“Hey, Cel,” Selena says sweetly.
“Hey, Sel.”
“Is that a thing?” I laugh.
“Since we were little,” Selena tells me.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Celeste backpedals, setting her stuff on a lounge chair.
“You can stay,” I say. “We’re just getting ready for swim night.”
“I should make sure the boys aren’t setting your house on fire. There’s a lot they can ruin here.” She rolls her eyes, but I don’t think she means to be rude.
“Sure,” I say.
Selena’s face falls, and she wraps her arms around her stomach like a shield.
“They’re good kids,” she murmurs as Celeste walks away.
“They’re loud kids,” I reply, thinking I’m teasing.
She sighs. “They live on a farm and are sort of free-range. This is a family. It’s messy and wild and chaotic. And I know it’s not your thing, but...”
I turn her face to mine. “Selena, I’m not upset. I knew this was what it would be like. Imagine if three little boys weren’t rowdy. I’d wonder what was wrong with them.”
“I’m trying,” I say more softly. “I watch your sister and her husband and those kids, and I wonder—”
“Are you afraid that’s what we’re going to be like?” Selena interrupts. “I’ll be gone by then, Griffin. I and little Chlamydia won’t be here when he or she is old enough to be rowdy.”
“No, that’s not what I’m afraid of. I wonder if this is what you want?” I ask in a low voice. “A real marriage. A real family. Because this is a deal with a man who doesn’t know how to do or be any of the things Don is.”
That is an admission I didn’t think I’d make. Why would I want to be like an oafish man built like a bulldozer? But he’s the center of his family, and he fucking grills.
I don’t even microwave.
Selena looks at me with a pained expression.
“Don loves Celeste. He makes her laugh even when there’s jelly on the ceiling.
Someday I want someone to see me like that.
I feel like a complication you’re obligated to protect.
A perfect piece of strategy. I’m a woman who makes you horny.
.. and I do believe you like me. But I know you don’t love me.
How could you? We don’t know one another. ”
She turns away suddenly, clutching her stomach, and races for the bathroom. I follow, holding her hair and rubbing her back while she retches. When she’s done, I help her clean up as I hear the gleeful squeals of little boys outside.
I wipe her mouth with a damp cloth and kiss her cheek.
“I could so easily love you,” I whisper. “We are doing this one day at a time.” I kiss her lips; she smells like mint toothpaste. “I think you should spend your time in the hot tub. Let me take care of entertaining. I’ll be nice. I promise.”
“I’m not sure you can.” I’m pretty sure she’s teasing.
It was a stretch, but I managed to be pleasant. I’m not sure I hit as high as nice, but accommodating. The boys splashed and sprayed water everywhere. Don’s grilling was surprisingly delicious. Selena and Celeste got time to talk, sequestered in the hot tub.
I learned all about fly fishing—Don’s favorite vacation activity.
“Well, I’ll have to take you out when you and Sel come to Iowa.”
“Sounds fantastic,” I lie.
Not once did he ask me about my life. But what would I say? I’m about to forcefully acquire a small family-owned firm so I can become a managing partner in a corporation that essentially fucks people over for money.
Probably wouldn’t go over well.
Instead, what do we talk about? The baby.
“Fatherhood is the best,” Don says, and I genuinely think he believes it.
“It’s definitely a stage of life.”
“You having a boy or a girl?” he asks.
“Too soon to tell,” I say.
And I haven’t really given it much thought until this moment.
I’d be terrified of raising a girl. I fear I’d become a serial killer going after men like me in droves. I wouldn’t have any of them touching her. For one second, I think of Selena. Would her father want her married to me?
No.
If we have a boy... well, perhaps I could teach him to love women better. We could both dote on his mother.
The thought has me tearing up a little. That’s a family I could handle.