22. Griffin
GRIFFIN
A ll too soon, we pull up to the Rhodes mansion.
My stomach churns as my two worlds are about to collide.
More than anything, I want to keep Ashton all to myself.
I want to protect and savor the perfect bubble we’ve been in for the past forty-eight hours.
But it’s time I make things clear to Scarlet.
Ashton and Scarlet deserve that. I deserve it.
I want to move forward with this tentative relationship with zero guilt.
I don’t want any more confusion between Scarlet and me. It wouldn’t be fair to any of us.
Ashton and I walk up the long drive, passing numerous parked cars, Roxy and Teddy in tow. She’s quiet, but her nervous palm-wiping down her dress gives her away. I hate to rush in and immediately leave her to the wolves, but I want the conversation with Scarlet over and done with.
Ashton’s holding on to my arm. The contact is perfectly innocent, but as we approach the large portico, the porch lights illuminating the surrounding area, she drops my arm. Her pace slows, her limp more prominent.
“You can keep holding on to me for support.”
Her eyes dart to mine. “No. It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
The tension between us is as taut as a bowstring. Maybe this night is a mistake, but it’s too big of an opportunity for her to pass up. I certainly don’t want to get in the way.
The Rhodes mansion is all white, with classic pillars and stained wooden shutters—basically, a stucco beach version of the White House. There’s a small line of guests being greeted by Scarlet and her father at the front door.
I keep my voice low. “Are you sure you’re okay to do this?”
“Mm-hmm.” Her eyes stay steady on the doorway.
Scarlet spies us and waves over the crowd.
She leans in to say something to her father, then gracefully walks down the steps, smiling at guests like she’s a pageant contender.
She’s dressed like it, too—wearing a bright-red spaghetti-strapped dress similar to Ashton’s, though hers is worn as a second skin.
A much shorter, more revealing version of Ashton’s.
I prefer Ashton’s. It allows my imagination to wander, and my fingers ache to touch her.
She clutches her crossover purse with her hand.
I try to distract her. “You have your business cards?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes stay straight ahead.
“In that tiny thing?”
My incredulous tone draws her attention enough to look at me.
I smirk.
“Yes. And my phone, credit cards, license, and dog treats, if you must know.”
“Dog treats?” I laugh. “Don’t see that in a woman’s purse every day.”
“Do you often investigate the inner workings of a woman’s purse?” Her lips twitch.
It’s not much, but the comment has the effect I was hoping for.
“Not usually.”
“Hey guys! I’m so glad you’re here.” Scarlet hugs me and kisses me on the cheek. “Nice to see you again, Ashton.”
“Thanks for having me.” She toys with Teddy’s leash.
Scarlet looks to Roxy. “Oh, good, you brought her.”
“Yeah, we’ll see how well she does.”
“I bet she’ll love it. Lots of new playmates to meet. And you guys will, too.” She loops her arm through mine and clasps her hands around it. “Lots of fellow dog lovers in there.”
“By the way, I sort of invited Wren. I hope that’s okay.” While I know Wren loves dogs, I mostly did it for Ashton’s benefit. I didn’t want her alone longer than necessary in case Scarlet keeps me busy fake-relationshipping most of the night.
“Wren Reynolds? The pop singer?”
“Yeah, she’s my neighbor, remember?”
“Yes! I remember you told me that. My dad would love to meet her.” She leans in, whispering, “He’s such a fan.”
We’re almost to the doorstep, and Ashton is stiffer than a board but still walking toward the entrance with us. It speaks to her dedication to animals. She’s willing to put herself in such an uncomfortable situation to help get her rescue off the ground.
I want her to have the most successful night, and while I have faith in her abilities, I want to ensure she gains some funding tonight. Before we left, I made a deposit into her Venmo account we set up—anonymously, of course. A good chunk to get her started. Just in case.
“Your dad’s already here.”
“Of course he is.” He’s probably working the crowd, trying to grow his client list.
The guests in front of us, with two standard white poodles, walk inside.
Wesley’s smile is wide. “Welcome, welcome.”
I slip out of Scarlet’s grasp and shake Mr. Rhodes’s hand. “Hello, sir. Thank you for having us.”
Wesley chuckles and pulls me in for a hug. “What’s this ‘sir’ nonsense? We’re closer than that.”
I grimace-smile.
After a smack on my back, Wesley releases me and eyes Ashton beside me. “And who’s this?”
“This is my friend and dog trainer, Ashton. She’s working miracles for my rescue, Roxy.” I gesture to the dog.
“That’s great.” Wesley holds eye contact with Ashton for a beat longer than necessary before reaching to shake her hand. “Ashton, is it?”
“Yes, sir.” Ashton’s cheeks are brighter than a ripe tomato.
“What’d you say your last name is?”
He’s still pumping her hand up and down, studying her.
“I didn’t, but it’s Reid, sir.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Ashton Reid. I hope you have a good time at the party.”
“Thank you for having me.”
Wesley looks over our heads at the line behind us. “You guys enjoy yourselves tonight. I’ll be sure to catch up with you later.”
Scarlet kisses her dad’s cheek. “I’m going to hang with Griffin. I’ll see you later, Daddy.”
“Have a good time, honey.”
With her arm latched to mine again, Scarlet navigates us through their expansive open and modern, yet minimalist, living area and out onto the elaborate outdoor terrace.
Their backyard is packed. People mill about the lawn, the patio, and around the pool.
There’s a large table with food and a dog ice sculpture.
Waiters wander through the crowd serving drinks, despite there being an open bar.
I look over to Ashton. She’s hovering by the back door. My arm twitches to draw her into me, but I need to get this Band-aid ripped off already.
I whisper to Scarlet, “Is there someplace private we can talk?”
Her slow smile indicates she has no idea what this conversation is going to be about. “Sure. We can talk in my dad’s room.”
“Great.” I shrug out of her arm and walk the few steps to Ashton. “I’m going to talk to Scarlet really quick, okay?” I dip my chin, hoping she understands my meaning—as in, the talk. “I’ll be back as fast as I can. Can you take Roxy for me?”
“Sure.” Her eyes dart all over the yard.
“Are you going to be alright by yourself?”
She pulls in her lower lip and nods. “I’ll be fine.”
I absolutely hate myself for having to leave her, even if it’s just for a few minutes.
I squeeze her arm, though what I really want to do is pull her into a hug and never let go. I whisper, “I’ll be right back.” I turn to Scarlet. “Lead the way.”
She grabs my hand and tugs me along.
We zigzag around the massive L-shaped couch and through a hallway to the closed door to his bedroom. The grey bedding on his king-size bed is perfectly straightened. A line of windows on the back wall allows us a view of the party. Colorful lights beam across the room at periodic times.
She turns around, still holding my hand, and looks up at me, smiling. “What’s up?”
I release her hand and step back. “I think we need to talk about some boundaries.”
“What kind of boundaries?”
I comb my fingers through my hair, wishing I’d practiced this conversation in my head more. “For our relationship.”
“What do you mean?” She adjusts a dress strap on her bare shoulder.
Just say it already!
“I want us to be friends, Scar.”
She smiles, her head tilting. “We are friends.”
“No. I mean, just friends.”
“Oh.” Her face falls slightly, confusion marring her features.
“It’s not that I don’t like you. I do. Just as a friend. I think moving forward, it’s best if we keep our distance outside of our public appearances so there’s no confusion.”
“Right.” Her voice is soft. She walks toward the windows. “Is this because of her?”
I walk to where she’s standing. “Who?”
“Don’t play stupid, Griffin. Ashton.”
No more hiding. She deserves to know. “Yes.”
She nods, pursing her lips. “She’s cute. Seems nice.”
“She is.”
She spins toward me. “But did you ever consider how good we’d be together?”
The question takes me by surprise, and I’m not sure how to answer it. We’ve known each other for our entire adult lives and most of our teen years. She was my first kiss, for crying out loud. I’d be lying if I said I never thought about the two of us together. “At one point, I did, maybe.”
“What changed?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. We grew up. We both changed.” Her—diving deeper into the Hollywood schemes. And me—trying to distance myself from them.
“What if we got to know each other better—on a deeper level?”
“What difference would it make?”
“It’d give us a chance.” She steps closer. “We’ve known each other for years. The world loves us together. We’re good together. You’ve got to admit there’s a certain level of chemistry between us.”
Sure, we have great on-screen chemistry, but I chalk that up to our excellent acting skills. Maybe that’s where her confusion stems from. There was never a real us, just the roles we played together.
“That’s just on-screen.” I step back.
“It could be off-screen, too. If you wanted.” She presses forward.
“I’m sorry, Scarlet. I want to explore a relationship with Ashton.”
Hurt fills her eyes.
I look away, unable to handle the sight of causing her pain, but knowing this is for the best. I scratch my neck, adjusting my collar.
“Look, I really need to get back to the party. Ashton doesn’t know anyone here. I’ll see you out there, okay?”
“Sure.” Her voice cracks. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
I squeeze her hand once before walking out the door, hoping I let her down easily enough and that this conversation won’t cost me my future of working with Wesley.