“I’ll have a latte, extra, extra hot. Chill the cup first, though. And I’ll have extra foam, stop the shot at fifteen seconds, and two pumps each of caramel and vanilla syrup,” Dorian says. “Please.”
Kyle doesn’t bat an eye. “Of course. Anyone else?”
“I’ll have a regular latte like a normal person, thanks,” Daria says, shaking her head at her brother.
Patton and I both ask for sodas, and just as Kyle’s turning away to get everything, the doors open and Calla comes out.
“Griff!” She holds out her hands, and I’m gratified to discover that I’m now worthy of air-kisses. “We’re going to make you a regular here if it’s the last thing I do.”
I snort. “I feel like I’m being seduced to the dark side.” Stepping back, I gesture to Daria. “Daria Keys, meet Calla Gardner, one half of the brains behind Phallacy.”
Daria’s eyes are on Calla’s torso. “Hi. Not to be pushy, but did you design that top? Can we look at something like that today too?”
I mentally pat myself on the back while Calla laughs… and flips her hair. Do I sense a fan?
“That’s the design you’ve come here for,” I tell Daria. “It’s a one-off that Phil and Calla have agreed to replicate for you.”
“You’re amazing,” she tells Calla. “I love you. Want me to have your babies?”
Calla’s cheeks pinken. “Why don’t we wait until you’ve tried it on before we write up the surrogacy contract?” she suggests. Her gaze flicks past Daria to Dorian, and I step in to introduce them.
“Dorian’s come along because he’s nosy,” I explain. It’s simpler than “he wanted to get away from his adoring underage fans.” “He promises not to cause trouble.”
Dorian holds up his hand like he’s taking an oath. “I swear. Especially if you can stop Daria from bitching about her clothes.”
“We got this,” Calla assures him. “Before we go through, I just want to talk to you about Phil.”
“Griff already told me,” Daria says. “And I wouldn’t let Dorian come until he agreed not to be an ass.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that, and I know Phil will too.” She shoots me a grateful smile, and I nod. I’m not sure if Phil told her we’ve been talking, but I’ve got his back.
We walk through the doors into the showroom, where, aside from a few interested glances our way, everyone is busy at work. Calla directs us to the fitting room, and as we step inside, I finally see Phil. He’s speaking to an older woman in a low voice but turns as we enter, a smile lighting his face. The blush that stains his cheeks is probably a reaction to having Daria and Dorian here, but I love the way it almost matches his hair.
We’ve talked and texted a lot since the last time I was here, but I hadn’t realized how much I wanted toseehim again.
He walks toward us, still smiling, and Calla says, “This is Phil Marchand, our resident design genius. Phil, Daria and Dorian Keys.”
Phil offers his hand to Daria. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” he greets her in that warm voice that makes me want to smile. I exhale slowly, happy and relieved that he’s comfortable today. “I’m a big fan.”
“Of me too?” Dorian asks with a suggestive little smirk, hip cocked.
I resist the urge to grab him in a headlock and haul him out. He’s flirty; it’s his thing. Phil’s a free agent. If he wants?—
“Of the whole band,” Phil replies smoothly with a polite smile. Daria snickers, always on board with her brother getting taken down a peg. “This is our head seamstress, Heidi. She’s the one who’ll make sure the construction of your garment is perfect.”
I met Heidi the last time I was here, so I just smile at her now while Daria says hello.
Calla takes the reins. “We’ve got a toile for you to try on today, and then a few different fabrics we want you to look at. We have our favorites, but we don’t want to choose something you’d be uncomfortable moving around in.”
She ushers Daria toward the changing space, and I take advantage of Kyle coming in with our drinks—including Dorian’s ridiculous order—to turn to Phil.
“Hi.”
He smiles at me, and it’s not like the one he had on a minute ago. This one feels more personal. Intimate, almost.
“Hey. Thanks for your message this morning. It helped.”
The last of my fear falls away. “I’m glad. After I sent it, I was afraid it might have made things worse—put it at the forefront of your mind.”
