29. Griffin
Chapter 29
Griffin
I scrub my hand over my face and readjust my baseball cap, shading my eyes from the sun as I trudge down Aster Street. I debated blowing off coffee, but I didn’t want Ian and Taryn to get up in my shit about it. I never miss our meetups, so if I did, they’d know something was up.
I jut my chin in greeting to one of the owners of the Tabby Cat, walking his dog and kid, and swerve to avoid a college-aged kid texting and not watching where he’s going. I roll my eyes, mumbling a curse, and offer my elbow to an elderly woman who appears to be struggling to carry her canvas shopping bags. I help her across the street and around the corner to where her car is parked, although she’s so tiny, I’m not sure she could even see all that well over the steering wheel. I wait a minute until she’s off then head back the way I came, only for the door at Lux & Lace to fling open.
Clara grabs my arm, dragging me into the lingerie store, her strength belied by her stature. Though she be but little, she is fierce .
My chest physically aches, but I don’t even have the chance to catch my breath because Clara slings her arms around me. “We heard about what happened! How are you doing?”
Of course. Gossip moved quick in this town. Or should I say, on this street. Because of the tiny but strong pixie refusing to let me go.
I sigh and pat her back. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
Marianne comes to my rescue, urging her wife to let go of me, but she doesn’t look any less concerned. I hold up my hand. “Really, I’m fine.”
Clara pouts. “We really thought you and Andi were meant for each other.”
I jerk back. We are meant for each other. So why would she suddenly believe otherwise?
Marianne tilts her head. “Didn’t you two break up? That’s why she moved to LA.”
“No, we didn’t break up.”
“Oh, thank god,” Clara heaves, hand to her chest.
“She’s in LA for work.”
“For how long?” Marianne asks, and I shrug.
That’s the part that’s killing me. There is no date I can put on the calendar. No schedule I can rely on. Every day is an exercise in patience, and it’s not like I had a whole lot to begin with.
Clara lifts her cell phone, tapping on it. “You’re a Sagittarius, right?”
“Come on, Clare, the guy doesn’t want to hear his horoscope.”
Marianne is right. I don’t care about horoscopes and stars and crystals or whatever weird witchy girl shit Clara’s into.
“Let’s just see what is in the cards for you,” Clara says, then reads, “You might find yourself feeling an intense urge to put an ongoing issue to rest once and for all. This could relate to something in your home life that hasn’t been addressed for a while. You’ll be determined to resolve it and won’t let anything divert your attention. Today, this issue will be your main focus.”
I huff. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Clara smiles at me. “See? Everything will work out.”
I try to be grateful for her friendship, but her eternal optimism is grating. Especially when I want to sulk in my petulance. “I gotta go. Meeting Ian and Taryn.”
Clara hugs me once more before Marianne walks out to the sidewalk with me. “We’re happy to watch the kids whenever you need.”
“Thanks.”
She squeezes my forearm, and just when I think she’ll turn around, she doesn’t. Instead, she tells me quietly, “You know I used to have a crush on you when I was younger?”
“Really?”
She laughs. “You’re so surprised.”
“You’re gay,” I tell her, as if she doesn’t know.
“I’m actually bi. I’ve just only ever been with women.” She waves her hand. “But it doesn’t matter. The point is, if the choice was you or the bear, I’d choose you. I think every woman would.”
I shake my head, not understanding.
“You’re one of the good ones,” she says. “Don’t ever believe any different.”
Then she gives my shoulder a squeeze and pivots back to her store. I watch through the display window as she brings Clara into her, arms wrapped around each other, their kiss moving out of the PG rating, and I slant my gaze away, heading toward Jo’s.
I’m the first to arrive, so I order our usual and claim our booth, setting the gift bag on the table. The one I’d forgotten about in the whirlwind of everything that happened recently, but I figured I’d finally move it off the counter.
I hate clutter, and without Andi around anymore, every loose item is pointless. She might’ve brought more energy and life into my house, but now that she’s gone, everything seems out of place.
Before I can get too into my feelings about it, my siblings arrive, Taryn sitting next to me and Ian across.
“You wanna talk about it?” Ian asks, getting right to the point.
“Nope.” My siblings were always the first to know when I needed a new nanny because they helped out with the twins in the interim, but this time is different. Andi isn’t simply a nanny. She is the closest that Logan and Grace have to a mom. She is also my…everything.
I’d prefer to avoid talking about her, like I’d prefer to avoid scratching open a scab, but I have to explain the gift bag as I hand it over. “Andi had these made two weeks ago.”
With a curious lift of her brows, Taryn pulls out a frame and gasps.
“What?” Ian leans over for a peek at it. “What is it?”
“It’s Mom.” She hands it to him and then takes out another frame. “Where did she…?”
“She found a bunch of photos I didn’t even know that I had and thought we might like this one. Made a copy for each of us.”
Ian sets his photo on the table and scratches at his beard. “Yeah,” he says gruffly. “This is…”
“Incredible,” Taryn finishes.
What I don’t tell them is that when Andi handed me the small box of photos, I had a flashback. At the time Mom passed, she was living in a small apartment, and she didn’t have a whole lot of mementos for us to go through. Ian volunteered to keep the few bags and boxes at his place until we were all together to decide who would get what. Ian chose the few pieces of jewelry Mom had since Taryn was always sportier and never much for it anyway. She wanted the I Love Lucy knickknacks.
It was Mom’s favorite show, and she had quite a collection. Roman was still in college, twenty years old and beside himself. I remember how he picked up this old pillow that her graduating students had given her one year with their names all over it. She loved that pillow. So Roman took that, along with the tattered baby blanket we’d all supposedly been wrapped in. By the time it came for me to decide, I didn’t care. I was pissed and sad and just wanted to be done with it. I grabbed the box without even knowing what was inside.
And since I completely forgot that I even had it until Andi found it, I have trouble not thinking that’s what was supposed to happen.
I don’t believe in kismet or fate or whatever bullshit people like to blame or credit for things happening in their lives that they feel are outside of their control. But…
Watching my brother and sister stare in wonder at Mom’s picture. Feeling my skin prick like someone is watching me.
I can’t help but wonder if Mom is with us now. If Andi was meant to find those photos. If she was meant to make me remember and somehow bring us this gift of our mother.
Both Taryn and Ian clear the air, taking sips of their coffee, but there is still one frame left. I flick the edge of the bag. “One for Roman too.”
“Anyone talk to him recently?” Taryn asks around her coffee.
Ian leans back against the booth. “Last time was for my birthday. He sounded…off.”
“Like he’s using?” I ask, and my brother shakes his head.
“He said he really wanted to come to the party but couldn’t and promised to be at the next one.”
Taryn clucks her tongue. “Huh.”
Roman never makes promises because he always inevitably breaks them.
“He seems to be doing okay, though,” Ian says then gestures to my cell phone. “Text him. Tell him about the picture.”
So I do. I snap a photo and send it to him along with a message.
Is your address still the same? I’ll mail this to you.
I start typing another message that it’s a gift from Andi, but I hesitate over the screen, unsure what to call her—My girlfriend? The kids’ nanny? My whole world?—and decide to delete it instead.
It’s not until the three of us are almost finished with our coffees that Roman replies.
Roman
Wow. That’s incredible.
I choke on a surprised laugh, and when Taryn and Ian toss me weird looks, I show them the text. Because it’s unusual he responded so quickly and said the exact same thing Taryn did. My sister snorts while Ian juts his chin, silently directing me to keep the conversation going.
I’ll get it in the mail this week.
Roman
No, don’t worry about it. Hold on to it for me.
Hold on to it for him? I would really rather not, but we’ve been picking up after him for this long, why not hold a photo of our mother for him indefinitely.
I swipe my thumb, exiting out of the text, only to open the thread I have with Andi, instinctually typing.
Let me know when you arrive.
Never doubt I love.
She was on the last leg of her drive, set to pull into LA around eight o’clock Pacific Daylight Time. Only a few more hours and she’d officially be a Californian again.
Andi
Yes, sir.
Keep your eyes on the road, please.
Never doubt I love.
Andi
I stopped for gas. Having a snack.
She texts me a selfie holding up a cheese stick and a pack of almonds. Protein.
Attagirl.
Never doubt I love.
Then I put my phone away to find my siblings staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. And they’re right. I have.
“What?”
Ian shakes his head while Taryn snorts. “Why didn’t you tell Andi to stay?”
“How’d you know I was talking to her?”
“You have two modes, on and off,” Ian says. “But Andi put you in a different one.”
I rub the heels of my hands against my eyes. “I didn’t really need advice from you two, seeing as how neither one of you has anybody.”
Ian rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a fucking asshole because you’re sad.”
Taryn shrugs like the answer’s so simple. “Coulda just asked her to stay.”
“And give up on her dream? No. Absolutely not.”
Taryn sets her elbow on the table, turning to fully face me, to really make sure her next words hit their target. “Stop being so goddamn selfless all the time. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being married and divorced, it’s that you have to ask for what you want.”
Ian taps his coffee against hers. “Amen.”
I fold my arms over my chest, tucking myself into the corner of the booth. “ Anyway .”
That earns a laugh from them both.
“Anyway,” Ian tags on, “we love you, kid.”
Taryn pats my knee under the table. “Top three of my brothers, for sure.”
I refuse to give in to a smile. “Thanks.”
Then we move on to the topic of some woman who came into Ian’s shop to get the name of her ex covered up a few years ago, only to return last week, asking for the name back on after reuniting. Ian has a firm personal stance on tattooing partner’s names, but I don’t agree. At least not when it comes to Andi and me. I’d put her name across my forehead so everyone knows who I belong to.
If only I could be so sure when she would be coming back to me.