by Jewel E. Ann
“I stopped seeing Dr. Albright. The visions in my head were nothing more than whispers, white noise. They no longer fed a need—a curiosity. In some ways they died the day I went to Doug’s apartment.”
I blink, releasing a lone tear. “I let part of me—her—die with him. And for a while I felt so lonely and filled with anger. Anger toward Daisy for hijacking my life. Anger toward you for leaving. Anger toward Nate for everything—sitting in Dr. Greyson’s lobby. Putting out an ad for a nanny. Hiring me. Just … everything.”
I laugh. “I was so angry. But there was Morgan. She was the innocent one. And my love for her is incredible. So after a while, I thought—okay, life, is this where I’m supposed to be? Here with Nate and Morgan?”
My gaze shifts to the side, trying to figure out how to explain how I got from there to here.
“And what was the answer?”
I grunt. “Nate’s answer was I wasn’t his. In his book, I could never be his when another man killed to save my life. But honestly … I think he knew who I was even when I didn’t know.”
“And who are you?”
Leaning forward, I press my lips to Griff’s abs. My hands surrender the blanket to the floor as I stand slowly. Closing my eyes, I let my lips find the same path up his torso they’ve taken so many times before, following my favorite lines of muscle and ink. I don’t need to see it; I’ve felt it a million times.
“Ask me again,” I murmur over his collarbone before lifting onto my toes to kiss his neck.
His fingers dive into my hair as he releases a low groan. “Who are you?”
My lips savor the sharp angle of his jaw as my arms wrap around his neck, pressing my bare chest to his.
“Again …” I grin against his cheek.
He fists my hair with one hand while his other hand slides down my back, grabbing a handful of my ass.
I grunt from the sting of his firm grip.
He grins through gritted teeth. “Answer me.”
I bite his lower lip, tugging it hard until he grunts and flinches. “You know the answer.”
His eyes narrow. “Samantha?”
I attempt to snag his lower lip again with my teeth.
He pulls back, increasing the pressure of his grip on my ass. “Swayze?”
I shake my head. Our gazes lock and the playfulness dies. I hope he sees that I’m laying myself open for him because of who I am.
Please see me …
“Who?”
Tears fill my eyes. I need him to see it. I need him to say it. I need him to believe it. “Griff …” my lips whisper over his.
His eyes redden a bit when I glance up, keeping my lips hovering over his.
He swallows hard. “Mine …” That one syllable breaks into two. “You’re mine.”
“Yours.”
He kisses me.
It’s closure.
A promise.
An affirmation. In this lifetime, my heart—my soul belongs to Griffin.
He lowers me to the bed. “I haven’t had sex since December. I hope I remember how this works.”
His words slay me. Almost as much as that grin. I didn’t ask. It wasn’t my business. But when a man loves a woman like Griffin loves me, he leaves no room for doubt or insecurity.
He towers over me on his hands and knees. And I feel protected. Safe. And loved.
Griffins are mythical creatures—half eagle, half lion. They are believed to be loyal and protective of treasures and priceless possessions.
What were the chances of finding a grocery store guy and a Griffin?
Well done, Fate. Well done.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Griffin
It’s been a year to the day since I got my second chance. I didn’t fuck it up. It was on a trip back home to visit our family in Madison. My parents planned dinner on the deck, yard games, and soaking up the end of summer before Swayze started her first official year as a full-time third grade teacher.
“Don’t get sidetracked. Your mom only needs three things, and protein powder is not one of them.” Swayze gave me a playful nudge with the basket.
I narrowed my eyes at her, but my grin jumped in and ruined my scowl.
We grabbed strawberries, hamburger buns, and lemonade. I took a fake phone call as we went through checkout lane number three. She loaded the items onto the conveyor belt. I handed her some cash and said a few okays and uh-huhs to absolutely no one. When she took a step forward after the person in front of us finished paying, I winked at the cashier.
The cashier winked at someone over in customer service. While Swayze zoned into her phone, I pulled out a ring—the ring—and got down on one knee.
The person at customer service spoke over the loud speaker, reading off a sheet of paper I gave them the day before. “Attention shoppers, there is a man down on one knee in checkout three.”
Swayze’s head snapped up at the checkout number on the register light, and then her attention landed on me, holding out the ring.
The customer service person continued, “Epic proposal alert. I repeat, epic proposal alert. Griffin Calloway is about to ask Swayze Opal Samuels to marry him.”
Swayze turned fire engine red, maybe from the loud speaker, maybe from the fact that I gave away her whole name. Yes, Opal after her grandma—as if Swayze wasn’t awesome enough. Her words, not mine. Initials SOS.
“Will she say yes? Let’s wait and see …” The speaker paused.
“Will you marry me, Swayz? I want it all, and I want it with you.”
She stood there with one hand over her mouth and the other hand over her chest.
And then the thing I couldn’t plan just … happened. One of the shoppers in line behind us started chanting. “Say yes. Say yes …” and everyone else joined in.
So. Fucking. Perfect.
I don’t think she could have spoken had she wanted to, but she nodded. I slipped the ring on her finger. The crowd cheered.
The customer service person came back on the speaker. “We have a yes! This is the most epic proposal in the history of proposals. Nothing botched up about this, ladies and gentlemen. Congratulations, Griffin and Swayze.”
I stood. She threw her arms around me.
“Did I nail it this time? Will this be the proposal you tell our kids and grandkids?” I murmured in her ear.
She still couldn’t speak, so she just nodded a half dozen times.
*
Swayze
“I have something for you. It’s actually a gift from your groom,” Mom says.
I turn, smoothing my hands over the rich silky white fabric of my wedding gown. “Griffin got me a gift?” I deflate a little. I didn’t get him anything.
She adjusts my delicate diamond drop necklace. “But your makeup is perfect. We’re fifteen minutes away from you walking down the aisle. I need you to hold it together.”
“Why would I not hold it together?”
“Just …” She shoves a wad of tissues in my hand. “Do your best. I’m going to get ready to be seated.”
I laugh. “You can’t be seated until you walk me down the aisle.”
She smiles and opens the door to the room. “Someone else has been requested to give you away.”
I lean to the side to see into the hall. In walks a little two-year-old angel in a red dress with tiny white flowers around the neck.
I clench the tissues in my hand. Sorry, Mom, I’m going to need them. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen her except in photos.
“Morgan.”
She stops, clearly no longer recognizing me, and turns. Then just to bring out ALL of the tears, Nate walks around the corner. I haven’t seen or talked to him since I left the cemetery. He sends photos of Morgan. That’s it.
“I heard you needed an arm to hold to get down the aisle. I also heard you didn’t have a flower girl. That’s not right.”
I press my fisted hand to my mouth, tissues ready for me to blink. The safest bet is to simply not breathe.
>
Nate’s wearing a black suit and a red tie that matches Morgan’s dress. Blue eyes make a full inspection of me. And that grin … it’s perfect.
“This life looks beautiful on you.”
I laugh, but it comes out as a little sob.
Morgan lifts her hands up. Nate picks her up. She gives him that adoring look, the one I always wanted for him.
“Hi.” I find one word that I can say without crumbling.
“Hi.” He grins.
The familiar no longer haunts me. He will forever live inside my soul, next to Daisy. He will forever know how far Griffin went to give me this life.
Nate and Morgan are my family. They left their fingerprints all over my heart. I feel incredibly honored to have been touched by them.
“Tell me you’re even half as happy as you look.”
“In this lifetime…” I grin “…I’m certain no man has ever made me as happy as Griffin.”
Nate nods. I don’t see anything but true love for me—for my life.
“Thank you.” I step closer and stretch up to kiss Morgan’s cheek and then Nate’s cheek.
“For what?” he asks.
“For not letting me be yours.”
Nate’s lips pull into a tiny grin. “I knew you deserved a real boyfriend.”
A real boyfriend.
I can’t predict the future. And I don’t want to, but I’m certain those three words will tie us together for eternity.
“So we’re leaving tomorrow,” he says.
“Disney?”
He laughs. “No. The world.”
Now I laugh. “That’s a bit broad. Is that what your airline tickets say?”
“When Jenna was pregnant with Morgan, we agreed that we would pause our careers and take her around the world. Let her learn from experience. Be a citizen of the world. Cultural immersion.”
“Whoa … so you’re …”
He nods. “Taking Morgan to experience life.”
My smile feels like it could crack my face. “I’m speechless. And really proud of you for doing this without Jenna.”
“It feels right.” He kisses Morgan’s head which prompts her to hug his neck like she’s conditioned to give back every bit of love he gives her—times a hundred.
“Ready?” The wedding coordinator peeks in the room, holding a little basket full of red and white petals for Morgan in one hand and my all red flower bouquet in her other hand.
I turn and make one last inspection in the mirror, glancing up to see Nate’s reflection and his huge grin. After fixing my eye makeup and lipstick, I turn. He offers his arm.
“Griffin asked you to do this? Really?”
“Yes.”
Grocery Store Guy … I love you to the infinite depths of my heart.
The intimate gathering waits in the sanctuary at sunset.
Candles.
A harpist and a flutist.
Griffin’s sisters walked down the aisle in their black dresses, holding all white bouquets.
Next is Morgan. She walks surprisingly slow, distracted by everyone staring at her, but Nate’s parents are in the front row, coaxing her to complete her trip.
She does and that brings tears to my eyes.
But I blink them away.
The processional begins and everyone stands—bringing tears to my eyes.
But I blink them away.
There he is. My groom. He looks sinful in that tux, but it’s the way he’s looking at me that is something beyond beautiful … beyond words.
Nate walks me down the aisle and kisses me on the hand like a true gentleman before giving me away. Tears sting my eyes.
But I blink them away.
I glance at Nate’s parents and my mom. More tears threaten my makeup.
I blink them away and hand Hayley my bouquet.
Griffin and I face each other, holding hands. Before the minister starts speaking, Griff leans forward and whispers in my ear, “I can’t wait to hear about your day, Swayz.”
Tears spill over. He pulls a handkerchief from his jacket and blots my cheeks.
There’s an audible “aw” from a few friends and family. I’m sure they’re wondering what he whispered in my ear.
I mouth, “I love you, Grocery Store Guy.”
There are vows.
Rings exchanged.
More tears.
And the introduction of Mr. and Mrs. Griffin Calloway.
There’s a reception filled with good food, even better friends, and the very best family.
The DJ announces it’s time for the first dance. Griffin wanted to choose the song, and he wanted it to be a surprise. I just know it’s going to be something from Dirty Dancing, and we’re going to have our first official fight as husband and wife before we leave the reception.
“Don’t give me that look, Mrs. Grocery Store Guy Calloway,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to the dance floor.
He pulls me into his arms and presses his lips to my ear. “Let’s make a lifetime of memories.”
And then the music starts: “Boxes” by the Goo Goo Dolls.
Every single word touches me to depths I’m not sure Griffin ever imagined when he picked out this song.
*
“Finish me off,” Griffins says, shrugging off his jacket and removing his tie, standing before me in the middle of a ridiculously expensive hotel suite.
I give him a curious look.
He grins. “You’ve already taken my breath away a million times today. Now here I am, just as I said I would be—standing here in awe of the fact that the kindest, most beautiful woman ever said ‘yes’ to me.”
Stepping closer, he kisses me slowly while his hands take their time unbuttoning and unzipping my dress.
“I like this ‘unwrapping the best gift I’ve ever received.’”
He likes delivering all of my words back to me. He did it at the grocery store when he proposed, and he’s doing it tonight.
His breath hitches when my dress pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but a white satin and lace thong, high heels, and my single diamond necklace.
“Dead,” he whispers. “You just took my very last breath.”
My fingers fumble with the buttons to his shirt. I love that after all this time together, I still can take his breath away, and he can unravel my nerves with anticipation of what’s to come.
There’s only one thing missing—the one thing to make my day complete.
Say it.
After his shirt is on the floor next to my dress and my hands start to unfasten his pants, he finally says it.
“So tell me about your day, Swayz.”
EPILOGUE
A Century Later at a bar in Milwaukee …
“Here comes trouble.” My friend Adam nudges my arm.
“I’m pretty sure I’m not looking for trouble.” I tip back my beer while eyeing the blonde stomping the snow off her boots by the door.
It’s the third night in a row that she’s shown up at this bar looking like the forbidden fruit while shooting down every guy in the room who so much as dares to smile at her.
“The usual?” The bartender asks as she sidles up on the stool next to me, her knee brushing mine.
I almost choke on my beer. At the same time, she pauses, sucking in a sharp breath.
“Man, are you okay?” Adam asks, slapping his hand against my back.
I nod, keeping my gaze locked to eyes rich in brown, a few shades darker than my favorite lager.
“Have we met?” she asks, narrowing her eyes a bit.
“Shit. She’s speaking to you,” Adam attempts to discreetly mumble on the other side of me.
I haven’t exactly been a saint during my first two years of college. It’s possible I’ve had sex with more women than my inebriated memory can recall. But I’m kicking myself for not remembering her. The brief nudge of her knee against my leg sent this warm wave of familiarity rushing through my entire body.
It’s hard to explain becaus
e I’ve never felt that before.
“You’re …” I try not to mess this up. “Really familiar. But you’ll have to excuse me, this is my fourth beer tonight. We’re celebrating the end of finals.”
Her hand rubs her knee a few times. Yeah, she felt it too, and she won’t stop staring at me. Not that I mind.
“Charlotte.” She holds out her hand.
“Score!” Adam whispers behind me.
Total dick.
I shake her hand. We both suck in that same breath again, the one that leaves my lungs spasming.
What is going on?
“Mathias,” I choke on my own fucking name.
She keeps shaking my hand slowly, her gaze watching our hands in wonder.
Adam continues to nudge my back, making rude comments. His already ugly nose is about to catch my fist.
The bartender sets Charlotte’s glass of wine in front of her. She slides her hand out of mine—slowly, until it’s just our fingertips touching for a few extra seconds before the connection is broken.
When she turns to take a sip of her wine, I swear she whispers, “Wow.”
Wow is right. What the hell was that?
After Adam gets tired of staring at my back, he gives me a quick “later man.”
I shift my body, giving my full attention to Charlotte and her messy blond hair and deep lager eyes.
“So tell me about yourself, Charlotte?”
Part of me expects the same fuck off that she’s given every guy for the past three nights. Instead, she shifts her body toward mine, scissoring our legs together to make the tight space work.
A million what-in-the-world sparks shoot through my body, and I can see from the excitement on her face that she feels it too. She wants to touch me. It’s like we need to touch each other.
What the hell?
“I dumped my boyfriend last week. Fourth guy I’ve dumped in two months. They’re always ‘too this’ or ‘not enough that.’ You know what I mean?”
“Like the girls that think they’re so pretty that they can’t stop checking themselves out in every single window or mirror? Or the girls that are so insecure that they won’t even look you in the eye. Or my favorite … the ones that have ten layers of makeup on their face and every time they smile, parts of it crack. Too self-absorbed. Too insecure. Too fake.”