She kisses my cheek. “Babe, I don’t know what he’s thinking, but based on those texts, I’d bet a whole lot of money that he’s not just being nice. Were you comfortable talking to him?”
I nod, then grin when she whoops.
“That’s great. So let’s just take things as they come. The meeting with Daria is a professional one, but I bet you and Griff can manage a few minutes alone. See what he says then.”
She’s right, but…
What if I can’t talk?
Calla looks me straight in the eye. “Then you can’t talk. That’s part of your life, and anyone who values you will accept that.”
She’s right, but it’s not going to stop me from worrying.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GRIFF
Before gettingout of my car, I grab my phone and look one more time at the message I sent Phil this morning. I don’t know what possessed me—except I do. I didn’t want him to feel any pressure about today’s meeting.
JSYK, it’s okay if you can’t talk today. Daria’s cool.
He liked the message, which is the most uninformative, ambiguous way to reply. Is it supposed to be just an acknowledgement? Is he saying he appreciates the heads-up? Is he mad? There’s no way to know.
I have to walk into the meeting essentially blind to what my reception will be, which annoys the fuck out of me, because I was hoping I’d get a chance to talk to him face-to-face, just him and me. Find out whether the interest I feel is reciprocated or if he just wants to be friends.
Whatever. Nothing’s going to happen if I don’t get out of the car.
I’m nearly at the building when a sharp whistle rends the air. “Hey, Griff!”
I turn and see Daria, who’s one of my favorite clients, sauntering toward me, her asymmetrical haircut and wildly curly hair standing out from the crowd. Her hands are in the pockets of her ripped-up jeans. She’s wearing them with a tank top that definitely wasn’t approved by me, but honestly, I’m just relieved she’s not wearing her ratty sweatpants with the word “Fuck” written in Sharpie all over them, courtesy of the rest of the band. They’re kind of epic, but not what I want one of my clients seen wearing.
I stop and wait for her to catch up, my gaze drifting to her companions. Patton, who the band hired to be their shared assistant-driver-bodyguard, and Dorian.
“I’m a little hurt that you want Dorian’s opinion when I’ll be here,” I joke, and Dorian lets out a theatrical groan.
“I had to get out, Griff. You’ve got to save me from them.”
I glance at Patton, who rolls his eyes. “Mitch’s teenage sisters are visiting.”
Ah. “Well, nobody’s going to squeal and look at you adoringly here.” I hope.
The first test comes when we get up to reception. Kyle’s warm smile slips for a second, his eyes widening, but in the next beat, it’s firmly back in place. “Welcome back to Phallacy, Griff.”
“Cool line,” Dorian mutters, pulling out his phone and making a note. He does that a lot.
“Thanks, Kyle.” I smile gratefully at him for not fanboying even though I can tell from the way his gaze slides to the twins that he wants to. “Is it okay that Dorian tagged along for Daria’s appointment?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll let Calla know you’re here. Do you mind signing everyone in?” He looks at Patton. “Including security.”
“I’ll wait out here, if that’s okay,” Patton suggests. “Unless someone in there is a rabid fan and crowd control is needed?”
“Crowd control while I’m in my underwear? That sounds fun.” Daria grins at Kyle. “Please say Patton can wait with you so I can complain about him?”
“You complain about me even when I’m with you,” Patton says placidly.
“He can wait here,” Kyle offers, chuckling. “Could I get anyone a drink? Coffee, tea, soda?”
I hold in my sigh and wait.
