Aria clears her throat. “That I care for Griffin as real friends, but that we can’t be more. That we need to forget the kiss and keep it professional.”
Aria’s shoulders pull back reflexively, her chest popping out like it does when she channels her most powerful self before a concert. The way she does when she puts on her armor before stepping out into a barrage of press on the red carpet.
“That’s what you want?”
Curiosity rings out in Bailey’s words, her warm eyes leaving room for Aria to change her mind, and it makes Aria fumble. Aria wishes that Bailey understood that there’s not actually room for her to make that choice, not without making a mess. That Aria is “Aria Wilder, Pop Superstar and America’s Darling,” and that means her world, despite its reach across the globe, has also shrunk her personal life. A necessary hardship to protect herself—the real, smaller version that is the only thing she gets to keep.
The only part of her that’s out of the public’s reach.
“It’s the right choice.” Aria hops up, signaling an end to the conversation. “I’m going to get a couple hours of work in this morning, but do you want to do yoga this afternoon? I have an instructor coming. We could do takeout after.”
“Music to my ears,” Bailey says.
Aria smiles and turns to head upstairs. She needs a shower. That always helps her reset her mind—and this time, hopefully her body too.
A quick hot shower will wash all of it away.
She’ll emerge fresh and focused, kisses and butterflies permanently in the rearview.
Chapter 31
Griffin
Small fences are arranged on the park lawn into multiple pens that house puppies, kittens, and even a handful of bunnies. The animal adoption event this weekend is a follow-up to the gala where Griffin and Aria served as surprise celebrity guests. He didn’t know having a bunny as a pet was a real thing, but when he kneels down to pet one, he is astounded by how soft its fur is. The animal is sweet and quickly he understands the appeal. He stays there, his tall figure casting the tiny bunny in shade, and uses two fingers to gently pet the space behind the bunny’s ears.
Without warning, a little girl appears at his side, and without introduction asks, “Are you going to get that bunny? I would get that bunny if I was a grown-up.”
Griffin looks over. She stares at him intently with deep brown eyes, her face framed in a bevy of tight chocolate curls.She wears a pink dress with sparkly leggings and tennis shoes he suspects probably light up in some manner.
Griffin sighs. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a backyard, so bunnies are out of the cards for me.”
The girl frowns. “You poor thing. I have a swing set and everything. Maybe you could come over sometime.”
As darling as this little girl is, Griffin knows better than to entertain invitations to her home, so he gets to his feet and scans the crowd. “That’s very nice of you to offer. Do you have a grown-up here with you?”
The girl points to a man wrangling a little boy who looks just like her and is scanning the busy park in a panic. “That’s my dad. My brother is a runner, and sometimes my mom puts him on a leash just like those puppies. Another reason we can’t have a bunny.”
“How about I walk you over there? I think your dad is looking for you.”
Griffin walks at the little girl’s side, pointing the way to her family, and as soon as the dad sets eyes on her, his entire disposition relaxes. He rushes, the little boy under his arm, to close the space.
“Giselle! I couldn’t find you!”
“I think she was lured over by the bunnies,” Griffin jokes. “They even got a massive guy like me.”
The dad sighs. “Thanks, man.” He looks at Griffin, turns away, then back again. “Hey, I know you!”
Griffin shrugs. In all honesty he hates these moments when he’s transformed from anonymous stranger to football celebrity. When he was a rookie, he loved the attention, butnowadays, there’s a big part of him that simply wants to be known for being himself. No football.
He holds out a hand to shake. “Griffin Hayes of the Chicago Wardens.” He nods his head toward the pavilion where some sound equipment is being hooked up. “I’m here for an appearance but stopped to check out the bunnies.”
“He doesn’t have a backyard,” Giselle says.
Her father shakes Griffin’s hand heartily. “Well, I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Hayes. I’m a big fan too. You’re a pro with kids as well as football, apparently.”
The small boy under his other arm begins to wriggle, and the dad and his children bid Griffin farewell. He holds his head a little higher as he walks back over to the pavilion, considering the man’s comment about his talent with kids. Aria also mentioned his attentiveness to the children when signing autographs, and Griffin wonders if there’s something there—room to develop his non-football talents.
As soon as his eyes lock with Aria’s—who is visible from behind the pavilion only because she’s leaning out—he forgets everything that was on his mind. The day in the studio, the kiss, and his departure all flood back to him. He was already walking in her direction, and as Griffin makes his way across the grass, dodging the occasional Frisbee or running child, he reminds himself of the talking points he’s prepared.
