“I’m sorry, Griffin. I’m really sorry.” A tear slips down my cheek, and he’s right there to catch it and wipe it away.
“Hey. None of that now.” Slowly, he leans in, lips parted. He gives me time to pull away if I want, but I would never. If he doesn’t kiss me, I may scream.
In the end, I’m the one to close the last few centimeters of distance between us, pressing my lips to Griffin’s with a need that makes my body buzz. I don’t want him to pull away from me.
He groans when my tongue swipes along the inside of his lips, his grip on me growing tighter. My breasts press against his chest, and the heat of him finally chases away the cold my fears had wrapped me in. We’re still kissing several minutes later when his phone buzzes in his pocket.
“Fuck, Mir,” he says with a sigh as he pulls away from me. His dark blond lashes fan over his high cheekbones before they open on me. “I gotta go. I’ll be back for dinner, okay?”
“Do you have to go?”
One large hand cups my cheek, and I lean into it. “Yeah, baby, I do. I need…” He blows out a breath. “I need a little time today, okay?”
Whatever expression I’m making has his eyes softening and his voice gentles. “We’re okay, sunshine, I promise. I just need to get my head on straight, and since I can’t exactly talk to yourbrother about this, Bash is the best option. He won’t pry, but he’ll listen.”
“I get that,” I say, wishing I hadn’t ditched my closest friends because of Jared. I wish I could talk all of this out with Isla, but I would never ask her to keep such a huge secret from my brother. Even if I think she suspects something is going on between us. Maybe I could talk to Lexi?
Griffin presses another kiss to my lips, then my forehead. “I gotta go, baby. Bash is waiting. Call if you need me, okay? I’ll drop everything for you.”
“I know,” I say. And I do. Griffin Wright would absolutely drop everything for me if I asked him to. But what kind of wife would I be if I took advantage of that fact? Especially when he so clearly needs some time. “I’ll be okay.”
Lifting onto my toes, I slant my mouth over my husband’s. “Don’t give up on me. Please.”
“Never,” he whispers against my lips.
I only hope that’s a promise he can keep.
thirty
GRIFFIN
“You good, brother?”Bash looks me over as I slip into the booth situated in the back of the little diner that makes the best protein pancakes I’ve ever had.
The concern in his eyes warms the cockles of my heart and shit. I’m lucky, I know I am. How many guys have such a solid group of friends that would have their back in any situation, even brawls on the ice involving massive dudes and sharp blades? Not many, that’s for sure. It’s probably why there are so many butthurt assholes out there. Either get some friends that you can talk about your feelings with or go to counseling.
Actually, I should probably do some counseling. Maybe it’s time I get a professional to help me work through this curse crap. But something I do have in abundance are friends that will let me bare my soul and will never judge me for how I’m feeling.
“I’m good,” I tell Bash. It’s mostly the truth. I feel better after talking with Mira this morning, even if things didn’t get resolved the way I wish they had. I know it’s going to take her longer to warm up to all of this, and, yes, I know I asked her for sixmonths, but I wasn’t anticipating how much the secrecy would grate on me.
Bash isn’t fooled. I’m not surprised. He’s a goalie, after all, and those guys don’t miss a thing. They can’t. “Are you ready to tell me what’s really going on with you two?”
Damn, I wish I could. I’d love nothing more than to get this off my chest. “I can’t, yet. I want to, man, but I can’t betray her trust.”
My friend nods. “Fair enough. Did you get a chance to talk to her this morning?”
“A little. I just…”
“Was hurt when she acted like she didn’t care that those women were coming onto you?” His words sting, but the expression on Bash’s face is soft and brotherly. Of course, he saw all of that.
No sense denying it.
“Yeah. Yeah, I was hurt. She’s got her reasons for keeping us a secret, but I can’t help it—I still hate it.”
Bash opens his mouth but holds his tongue when our server stops by to take our orders. After he sets two coffees on the table and promises to return quickly with our breakfast, Sebastian turns back to me. “You hate it because you’ve been burned before by women who weren’t all in when you were.”
Damn. Not pulling his punches, is he?
“Mira’s not like that,” I say, defensive, even as an uncomfortable seed of doubt sprouts in my chest.
