Page 38 of Harts & Hurts

I was a walking oxymoron when it came to style because two of my favorites were the exact opposite of one another. I loved the coastal style, with its quiet serenity that came from the clean lines, the color palette only found in nature, and its uncluttered elegance.

I also stanned for grandmillennial. The style was also known as grandma chic because of its traditional elements updated with a youthful twist. Where coastal was clean and uncluttered, grandmillennial favored patterns in dusty roses, cream, sage greens, and Wedgewood blues. There were florals and bold ginghams. There were layers of blankets over quilts. There were bed-skirts, tufted armchairs, and ornate antique pieces. The fabrics celebrated needlepoint, pleats, and ruffles. When I looked at the grandmillennial style, it gave girly-girl and totally made my entire nervous system relax.

“Wow,” Griffin said when we walked fully into the space. “This is, uh . . . this is, um, a lot of flowers and plaids. I don’t . . . No shade, but I feel like I stepped into my great, great aunt Hilda’s bedroom back when I was a kid. Like, this is giving 1943 or something.”

I had to laugh. He was trying so hard not to shade the space, but I knew that he didn’t like it. “Well, they do call this style granny chic,” I admitted.

“Yeah. Well, granny, I get. I don’t know about chic.”

I laughed again.

“Uh, this ain’t what you’re thinking about doing, is it? I mean, maybe in the guest room or . . .”

“Maybe in my room.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You plan on having your own room in the main house?”

“You weren’t planning on me having my own room in the main house?”

“Anistyn, what are we doing here? Do you still see us as co-guardians, or do you see us as something more?”

“I see us as more than just co-guardians, Griff. I see you . . .” I hesitated. “I see us as exploring the possibilities.”

“The possibility I’m tryna get to is you being mine.”

“But it takes more than just a lot of good sex to get there, Griff.”

He sighed. “I get that. That’s what I’ve been talking about all night. I want you to know . . . and feel that I see you. I see Anistyn, and she’s more than just an aunt who cares for her niece. She’s more than just a co-guardian who, most of the time, carries more than her fair share of the load.” We were the only two people in the grandmillennial bedroom, so I didn’t protest when he backed me up against the wall. “I see the woman in you, baby. She’s smart, capable, loving, giving, and she makes me want to be the man she deserves. She makes me step it up. She makes me think and plan. She makes me want to make sure she knows what she does to me . . . beyond making my dick hard. She makes me want to cherish her and protect her. She makes me want to take care of her.”

Tears immediately formed in my eyes. I blamed the tears on those same residual period hormones, even though it was probably Griffin’s words that caused them. No guy besides my father and my brother had ever stated their intention of protecting and cherishing me.

“And she’s a crybaby.” He snickered as he wiped the one tear that had escaped. “Now, you’ve shown me your great grandma’s bedroom. Show me something I might actually be able to get into.”

“Whatever.” I wasn’t completely sure of Griffin’s style. I couldn’t even base it on the decor of the guesthouse, because that house had been done by a decorator. First, I led him to a space that was done up as a great room with a combined living and dining room. “This is the industrial style. It’s characterized by the raw, unfinished elements. It highlights the structural elements of the engineering. It’s meant to be moody and edgy. For me, it reads more masculine, though I did know women in college who resonated with it. You’ll see the colors are dark—a lot of dark wood, charcoals, and gun metal. A lot of metal, stainless steel, and concrete.”

“Why is your face all turned up as you’re describing it? Because there’s no ruffles and bows and shit?”

I had to laugh. “It’s just so . . . hard. I don’t know. Industrial has always struck me as a style for people who don’t want children around. All these concrete floors and the metal staircase? Melrose would kill herself trying to learn to walk in this style.” I took a beat. “You like it?”

“I can see the appeal. It seems easy to keep clean, not a lot of . . . mess laying around.”

“I guess.” I shrugged my shoulders “I mean, the sofa and both armchairs are leather. You could just wipe those down if they got baby food on them or something. The dining chairs are leather too. There’s a lot of leather in this vignette. A lot of leather and steel beams.”

“Clearly, you aren’t feeling the leather. Let’s keep moving.” Next, we moved into one of the bedroom vignettes. “Ahh, now I feel seen. What style is this? I feel like this might be my vibe.”

I laughed because I wasn’t surprised he liked the room. The walls had been paneled and painted deep, dark-green, and bamboo blinds covered by green drapes hung at the faux window. Both the headboard and the armchair were a dark-brown leather while the dresser and nightstands were a black wood. The room was dark, masculine, and moody. Still, unlike the industrial great room we had just left, the room also had a warmth and coziness about it. “This style is called grandpa chic.”

“Okay. So first, we saw your grandmother’s bedroom. Now we’re seeing your grandfather’s bedroom?”

“Something like that.” I giggled. “I can see why this style would suit you though. It’s sophisticated and feels kinda historic. The color palette gives the same moodiness you liked from the industrial room, but it pairs it with fabrics and textures that bring coziness and warmth. It gives masculinity, tradition, and timelessness. And I actually like the use of leather in this room. It’s a richer, more lived-in quality leather. It makes this room feel lived in.” I took a deep breath. “If you want to share a bedroom with me, I wouldn’t necessarily want this. It leans a little masculine for my taste. If you like it, though, I could definitely do something like this in your office. Let’s see if we can find a grandpa chic office space.”

Just like that, we were walking again.

“You don’t like that grandpa’s bedroom, and I don’t like the grandma’s bedroom. Show me a bedroom you think we both could live with,” he suggested.

We saw rooms of every style: a Japandi kitchen, a baby nursery done in the modern farmhouse style that we both loved; a playroom in the Americana style, done in all red, white, and blue, which I surprisingly didn’t hate. We saw a cottage core sitting room, a Palm Beach-styled formal dining room, and an alpine chic loft. Finally, we came to a bedroom that I would rest comfortably in.

“This is my favorite design style of all, but I really love it in the bedroom.” I watched Griffin take in the off-white walls, the white oak beams going across the faux ceiling, the bamboo shades, and the white curtains at the faux windows. He took in the white oak nightstands and dresser, along with the natural jute rug. The bed in the room was dressed in off-white with off-white and denim-blue throw pillows arranged at the head. There were oversized faux trees in each corner, and the light fixture over the bed was made of rattan.