“Layla sent me up,” Michael said.
Oh, JesusChrist. It was so hard not to react to that: the searing, other-pain of it. He chugged more of the water he didn’t want, thought of Layla saying,You hadwater, which was exactly what he deserved for the lie. For saying something so cruel and untrue about the reason he’d kissed her.
“We were all in the lobby waiting,” Michael continued, settlingonto the too-small couch in front of the room’s wall of windows. “After a bit she said I might want to check on you.”
Griffin winced.
“Discreetly,” Michael added. “No one heard.”
Holy hell, it hurt to have hurt her. All that, and she’d sent someone up to check on him. She’d done it quietly, unobtrusively. She’d probably managed to distract everyone—Fitz and Paula, to be sure—from noticing he hadn’t shown.
“Give me five minutes,” Griffin said, because the least he could do now was be good for Michael. “I’ll get a shower and get down there.”
Michael shook his head, leaned forward to pick up the remote off the side table for the television Griffin never turned on. “Take your time. I told them to go ahead, that we’d catch up.”
Griffin frowned. Thought of two-days-ago Michael, terrified of losing Emily.
After a heavy silence, Michael looked up to find Griffin watching him, and must’ve read his mind.
“Things are good,” he said reassuringly. “Yesterday—it wasreallygood. Em was so much more herself as the day went on. And the dinner with our parents, that turned out good, too.”
Turned out, Griffin repeated to himself. A speaking phrase, he thought, one Michael probably didn’t even realize he’d used.Turned out, once you weren’t involved.
“Everyone got along, though Rosie was halfway to giving my dad a heart attack, talking about her nipple piercing right there at the table.” He chuckled, then grew serious again. “And after, Em and I got out for a while on our own. Went to this other little bistro, had wine and dessert. Walked all the way to the Eiffel Tower again, to see it all lit up.Reallytalked, you know?”
Yeah, I fucking know, Griffin thought. The chocolate soufflé, the crème brûlée flavor on Layla’s lips when he’d kissed her.
“She slept over,” Michael said, a little bashful. He’d always been like that—a gentleman.
I put her in a car alone, Griffin wanted to say.I hurt her feelings, right before I did.
“You should thank Layla,” he said instead. Tried to make it sound casual by crossing to the armoire, pulling out a fresh set of clothes to take with him into the bathroom.
“She’s great, right?” Michael said, which Griffin tried not to hate. Shewasgreat. It wasn’t like he would ever be the sole possessor of that knowledge. He pretended he was looking for a specific shirt, when in fact all of his daytime shirts were pretty much the same: same brand, same soft fabric, same cut, no tags, with seams in places that didn’t chafe.
“Em really trusts her,” Michael went on. “Last night, she told me that Layla always had a way of putting things into perspective.”
Iknow, he thought again, remembering that moment last night when they first sat down, when he felt cramped and stared-at and strange. Layla telling him everything she knew about the street they sat on, like her whole life depended on talking him through it.
“And she’s got a way with people,” Michael continued. At some point, he’d flicked on the television and muted it, his eyes on the screen as he flipped channels. The thing was, Michael was good with people, too, but more specifically, he was good with Griffin, which meant he was going to look at other things in case Griff had to get his clothes off before going into the en suite; he was going to talk about things he thought were totally innocuous so Griff wouldn’t worry about someone seeing his skin, even if that someone had seen it at its worst.
Griffin grunted, stacking his chosen clothes into a tidy pile he would set on the bathroom counter.
“This morning she was chatting away with Samantha, easy as anything.”
She lies, Griffin thought.I don’t know why any of you don’t see that she lies.
He’d told her it was amistake.
“And yesterday, with Mom and Dad, she…”
He trailed off, and out of the corner of his eye, while he grabbed a pair of socks, Griff saw Michael cringe. He could finish the sentence for him, way harsher than Michael ever would:She knew to get you out of the way for the night.
“Anyway,” Michael said, his voice more falsely cheerful now. “It’s good you’ve made friends with her.”
“I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” Griffin ground out. God, this day was going to be hell.
Michael looked over at him, expression confused. “Oh yeah? She said you had a lot of fun yesterday. A really good dinner.”
