“Actually,” my future sister-in-law drawls, her blue eyes glowing with happiness,“we have made some plans.” She’s completely oblivious to Griffin’s emotional state and my inner turmoil. As it should be. This night is about them.
She reaches for Maddox’s hand, almost bouncing in her chair. “I was really hoping that the four of you ladies would be my bridesmaids.” Isla’s cheeks must ache from how broadly she’s smiling. “Jess and Nev, you two have been my besties for so long, and I never would have met Maddox if not for your meddling.”
Her two best friends chuckle as tears flood their eyes. They both give Isla emphaticyeses. She turns to me. “Mira, you’re the sister I’ve always wanted. You have been since that first day we met. Now we get to make it official.”
Now I’m tearing up, too. I love my brother and always have, but I can’t deny spending lots of time wishing for a sister when we were kids and Maddy was always away at hockey practice or some game. “I can’t wait,” I tell her honestly.
“And Lexi,” Isla says, turning to the newest woman in our group. “Even though we haven’t known each other very long, I am so glad we’ve become friends, and I just know we’ll be in each other’s lives for a long, long time.”
“I’d be honored.” Lexi gives Isla’s hand a squeeze, then beams at her boyfriend.
Maddox clears his throat. “You guys are brothers to me, you know that. You’ve always been there for me, and”—he turns to Griffin with nothing but gratitude written all over his features—“I wouldn’t have gotten my girl back if not for you.”
When I glance over at Griffin, moisture fills his eyes. He nods at my brother and smiles softly at Isla. He’s always been their biggest champion, and Maddy is right. If Griffin hadn’t gone to speak with Isla and confronted her ex, my stupid brother would have believed a lie and never would have tried to win her back.
“Anyway,” Maddox says gruffly, “would you assholes be my groomsmen?”
Logan, Sebastian, and Ryder hoot and shout their agreement, but Griffin is silent for a beat. Only when my brother looks his way does Griffin’s expression clear and a huge smile splits his face.
“I’m the best man, right?”
Maddox rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”
“Then, hell yeah, brother. You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Griffin puts on a pretty convincing show for the rest of the evening, but I’ve lived with him long enough to know that he hasn’t let go of whatever was bothering him before the game. Nor has he brushed off the story of his almost fling, Quinoa.Even as he smiles and laughs and joins in with the conversations that flow around us, there’s a tension in his shoulders and jaw that won’t seem to fade. And despite my happiness for Maddox and Isla and how much I enjoy the company of the people around me, I’m always hyper aware of my temporary husband. As the night wears on, my thoughts are consumed with going home and figuring out what’s bothering him.
Not because I’m his wife. Because I’m his friend.
And I’m definitely not looking forward to curling up together in his big old bed.
Not even a little bit.
fourteen
MIRA
By the timeGriffin and I make it home, I can’t take the silence any longer.
“Okay, what’s up with you?” I ask the minute we walk through the door. “You’ve been quiet and weird all night.”
He’s silent as he puts his duffel bag in the front closet. He still doesn’t say anything as he shrugs out of his suit jacket and tosses it over the back of the couch. And he won’t meet my eyes when his shoulders curl inward in a posture of defeat I’ve never seen before on Griffin Wright.
I don’t like it. Rubbing my sternum, I wait.
Ten seconds tick by, then twenty, then thirty. I’m starting to wonder if he’ll say anything at all when he sighs deeply and runs a hand through his shaggy, blond hair.
“I’m tired of being the punchline of everyone’s jokes.” He pauses. “I get that it’s my fault because I’m the one who acts like nothing ever bothers me and I’m always happy, but fuck, Mir. I’m an actual person, not some two-dimensional caricature of one.”
My heart lurches and I unconsciously take two steps toward him. My words are soft but firm. “You’re not a joke.”
A humorless laugh tears its way out of Griffin’s throat. “Sure, I am. I was a joke to my highschool girlfriend, I was a joke to my college girlfriend, who I stupidly almost proposed to, and I’m a joke to my friends. I’m the guy you call for a good time. Not the one you reach out to when shit hits the fan. I’m the guy you fuck, but not the guy you settle down with.”
That statement has my stomach dropping all the way down to my toes.
Griffin sighs. “I’m the idiot people tell stories about because they think I never take anything seriously, and I play right into the stereotype. Again and again and again.” He tilts his head toward the ceiling for a beat before blowing out a stuttered breath. “You know what? Ignore me. I’m just tired. I’m gonna go to bed.”
God, I feel like shit. Because how many times have I thought that Griffin doesn’t take much seriously? How many times have I brushed off things he’s said or done as him being ridiculous?
