“Well, that was a worthwhile trip,” Justine said to Spencer with a sigh.
She realized she hadn’t checked the skylight in the loft. Maybe it had sprung a leak that somehow found its way two floors below? She trudged up the metal stairs slowly behind Spencer, gun-shy from her fall but also because she didn’t want to be anywhere near Griffin’s bed. She stopped when her eyes crested the floor of the loft and looked up at the skylight. Nothing.
Justine glanced at the bed and noticed something pink peeking out of the top drawer of his nightstand, where he kept his condoms. She leaned closer and realized it was her headband. She was sure the last time she’d used it was in the bathroom to hold her hair back as she washed her face, yet somehow it had migrated to his drawer.
Not an accident.
She hurried back down and texted Griffin a few photos and a thumbs-up emoji.
His text back was immediate. Relief! Thank you so much. Glad it was a hallucination but sorry you had to come all the way back.
NP, safe travels. She kept it short, because there was nothing else to say.
Her hands throbbed and she realized that she needed to clean up before she left. Griffin was bound to have antiseptic and Band-Aids in his vanity. She wasn’t one of those nosy people who poked around in other people’s business despite spending time alone in his apartment, but now she had a valid reason to do a little recon in the bathroom.
“Spence, please stop. That’s disgusting.”
He’d followed her into the bathroom and was trying to drink out of the toilet even though his bowl of water was still on the kitchen floor. She ushered him out and banged the door shut so she could tend to her wounds in peace.
Justine didn’t even glance in the vanity mirror as she opened it. As expected, Griffin’s supplies were lined up soldier-straight. An electric toothbrush, whitening toothpaste, a nail brush, nail clippers, vitamins, spicy deodorant that she was tempted to inhale, an unopened box of cologne, and, tucked in the corner, Band-Aids and Neosporin.
She washed her hands gingerly and powered through the stinging when the soap hit the deeper parts of the cuts. Justine reached over to the towel next to the sink without thinking and ran her hand down it, only to be mortified by the red streaks on the pristine white.
“Idiot.” She sighed. “Way to make a good last impression.”
Justine had just seen detergent under the kitchen sink and figured she could spot clean the stains before they set in. She grasped the bathroom doorknob without touching her palm to it, gave it an up-and-twist like she always did, then jumped back in shock when the thing snapped off in her hand.
chapter thirty-eight
He’s not answering?” Justine asked as she closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead with her fingertips.
“No, that guy is the invisible man. How can you manage a building when you’re never around?” Griffin sounded furious. “I feel so bad, Justine. I’m sorry. Are you okay to wait a little longer?”
She wasn’t. Hangry, twenty-five minutes into captivity, and sitting on Griffin’s bathroom floor with the knob worthless at her feet made her want to shred the door with her bare hands. Everything she’d been bottling up all day was swirling in her chest and threatening to burst out in a primal scream that would probably freak out the lady downstairs much more than an imagined leak.
“I’m okay.”
The line was silent for a minute. “No one else in the building has a key to my front door but him. Damn it! I can call a locksmith.”
“No, Griffin, that’s not necessary yet. I’ll keep trying; it’ll work eventually. I’m looking up break-in hacks and reverse engineering them. I’ll figure it out. You’re getting on a plane in a few minutes. Don’t worry about me. Worst case, if I can’t get out I’ll call a locksmith.”
Spencer scratched the other side of the door and let out a mournful howl.
“Fuck, I forgot about Spencer! I can hear him,” Griffin said. “Was today a tough shoot for him?”
Her mind flashed to an image of Spencer bloody and lying on his side with Anderson wailing above him. The tears poured down Anderson’s cheeks as he cradled Spencer in his arms, and he alternated between kissing the dog’s face and screaming in anguish. It looked so real that the entire crew was fighting tears by the time Ted called “cut.”
Justine’s stomach clenched as the oil slick of sadness inside her finally bubbled over. “Today was awful.” She sobbed. “Spencer died on the show! You should see his fur. And I fell on your stupid front steps, Griffin. I tore up my hands and ripped my favorite jeans, and I bled on your towel, and now I’m trapped in your stupid bathroom and I’m starving and I just want to get out of here and forget everything that happened today.” She put her head down and ugly cried into the phone.
“Okay, that’s it,” Griffin said, his voice determined, like he’d figured everything out. “You’re going to be fine; just wait there.”
“I don’t have a choice,” Justine wailed as the line went dead.
* * *
• • •
“What the hell is a hex-key set?” Justine asked Ruth in her tough-girl voice to keep from breaking down again after an hour trapped in the bathroom.
“I have no idea, but Patrick said you should look around under the sink for one.” Justine heard a muffled voice. “He said they’re L-shaped metal things. Or look for a flat-head screwdriver.”
Justine looked under Griffin’s sink for the sixth time. “I’ve got a toilet brush, extra rolls of tissue, and a bottle of moisturizer. That’s it.”
“Okay, Patrick just offered to drive in and break you out. Or we can call the fire department.”
“Stop, I’m not a cat caught in a tree. I’ll figure it out.” Justine shoved her fingers in the hole where the knob used to be and jiggled. “I feel like something is coming loose.”
“Patrick said to check the . . . Hold on, he wants to talk to you.”
The phone went fuzzy for a few seconds. “Hi, Justine. Sorry you’re trapped, but I think I have a solution for you. Check the hinges. There might be pins in the top and bottom hinges you can pop out, and then—”
“Nope, it’s a concealed hinge. I already read about that.”
“Damn. I thought I’d be the one to spring you. Do you want me to drive in? I can bring my tools and get you out in two seconds.”
“We’d still need a locksmith to get into his front door.” Justine sighed. “I have one more thing I can try,” she lied. “I’ll call you back in a bit, hopefully from the other side.”
“Okay, well, I bet I could pick his lock then get in and be your hero, so just say the word and I’m there.”
“Thanks, Patrick. Tell Ruth I’ll talk to her later.”
Justine hung up and stared at the door. She was out of ideas and hacks to get the damn thing open. At least she had water and the toilet if she needed it. She got on her knees and peeked out the crack under the door. Spencer was lying down on the other side.
“Hey, bud. You doing okay?” He whined. “I know, I know. This sucks.”
She hadn’t heard from Griffin since they hung up. She imagined him running to catch his flight while trying to figure out how to get help to her. Maybe he’d managed to get in touch with the super and he was on his way to get her out? It wasn’t like him to leave her hanging without a solution. Griffin was a fixer.
But it wasn’t like she was a typical damsel in distress, despite the tears. She needed to rescue herself. Justine opened the vanity, grabbed the black plastic toilet brush, then crawled over to the door and jammed the hard plastic in the knob hole. She jiggled it around like she was whipping the world’s smallest egg, which seemed to get Spencer revved up on the other side of the door. He let out his wake-the-dead happy bark.
“I know, buddy, I’m trying!” Justine said as she jammed the plastic handle in the hole and Spencer contin
ued barking.
She whirled the handle faster, and either it was working to make the still-intact knob on the other side of the door move or she was delirious from hunger, because she felt the door giving way.
She leaned into it with all of her weight, and the next thing she knew she was outside the bathroom on the floor at Griffin’s feet.
“Griffin!” she yelped up at him with the toilet brush still in her hand. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I was going to save you, but it looks like you didn’t need me after all.” He held out his hand to help her up while Spencer jumped in circles around him.
It was the first time she’d ever seen him with stubble, and she couldn’t stop staring. Griffin was always clean-shaven; even the morning after in Maryland barely left him with a shadow on his cheeks. How many days had it been since he’d shaved? And how was it possible that he looked even better with it? Between the new navy wool coat, the gray striped scarf, and the disheveled-chic look, she felt like she was staring at a stranger.
“Are you okay?”
She took his hand gingerly, using just her fingertips so he didn’t accidentally hit the scrapes. “I am now. Thank you for coming back, but what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on a plane to Chicago.”
Once she was standing he gently flipped her hand over and examined her palm, cradling it in his hand. “Ooh. That hurts. You had a rough day, huh?” He paused until she met his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Justine. That was a lot to deal with.”
She sniffled and nodded, leaving her hand tucked in his. “Not my best day, that’s for sure.”
Spencer leapt up and bounced off Griffin’s midsection, and he dropped Justine’s hand as he fell backward a few steps.
“Ouch, Spence!” he said as he rubbed his chest.
“You didn’t tell me why you’re here,” Justine said with a frown. “Did your flight get canceled?”
He shook his head. “I rescheduled it. I’m leaving at eleven now.”
Justine’s heart surged. “Wait, you did that for me?”
“Of course I did. I couldn’t let you rot in my bathroom until I got back.” A smile played at the corners of his mouth.
“Hey, I found the right tool for the job eventually.”
He bent over and picked up the toilet brush lying next to the door. “You did. Very inventive.” Griffin disappeared into the bathroom to put it away.
“Now that I’m sprung I guess we should head out,” Justine said as she watched Spencer jump up on the couch and start scratching and digging at the fabric like he was settling in.
“Are you hungry? Do you want to grab dinner before you go?” The hope in Griffin’s eyes was impossible to miss.
“Probably not a good idea,” she answered as she crossed her arms, knowing that she didn’t need to explain why.
Griffin’s face fell. “Okay. I get it.”
“I don’t want to keep you, so we’re going to go. Hey, Spence, you ready?” She tried not to think too much as she walked back into the bathroom to grab her purse, then brushed by Griffin and past the exact spot where he’d kissed her for the first time. “As of today, your part-time tenants are officially gone. But we really appreciate everything you did for us. I can’t thank you enough.”
Saying it released a bloom of sadness in her chest. She’d done everything possible to avoid another in-person good-bye with Griffin, yet here they were, living through it.
He blinked and looked confused. “What do you mean? I told you it’s fine for you guys to stay here. I’ll fix the knob if that’s what this is about.” He laughed hollowly.
Justine stopped. “I told you on the phone. Today was Spencer’s last day on The Eighteenth. Didn’t you see the fake blood on him?”
“Wait, that’s what you said? You were hard to understand because you were so upset. When you said he ‘died’ I thought you meant he had a bad day. They actually fucking killed him off? For good?”
She tensed at the thought of Spencer playing dead and nodded.
“That means you guys won’t be coming back here? You don’t need the apartment anymore?”
“Nope. Today was the last day.”
Griffin raked his fingers through his hair. “Wow. Okay. Holy shit, Justine. I am so sorry. Was it . . . something he did? Or didn’t do?”
“No, it’s a plot decision. I guess it makes sense, but I know for a fact that people hate it when the dog dies. The audience is going to be pissed.”
“I’m pissed!” he exclaimed. “It’s a stupid move. Spencer is amazing on the show.”
“Yeah.” Justine glanced over at where he was curled up on the couch. “He was.” Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes misted.
“Hey, hey, come here.” He walked to her with his arms spread wide and scooped her into a crushing hug.
She leaned into him and inhaled deeply, trying to memorize his scent so she could call up the nuances of him in the future. The cold outdoor smell still clung to him, mixed in with the Griffinness she’d grown to love. His coat felt like cashmere against her cheek, and his arms wrapped around her so tightly that she felt like she was about to break. He rested his chin on top of her head as if he didn’t trust himself to get closer to her mouth, like she was his best friend’s little sister and definitely not someone who needed to be kissed by him.
Justine shivered.
He leaned back. “You’re cold?”
She shook her head and bit her lip, staring at his chest.
“Hey.”
Justine looked up at Griffin as he loosened his grip. He stared into her eyes for a moment, the smallest smile on his lips, then gently placed his hand beneath her chin and tilted her face up toward his.
Even though she knew that kissing him was the absolute worst thing to do, she let her eyes drift shut as his mouth found hers. Her heart simultaneously leapt and shattered as they melted into each other.
He cupped her face and stroked her cheek with his thumb as they kissed. The tenderness hollowed her out and she bounced between desire and despair as their mouths moved together. The longer he kissed her, the less likely it was that they were going to stop. Justine tried to summon up the willpower to push him away but couldn’t fight against the tingles of pleasure that rushed up and down her spine as Griffin claimed her lips.
It didn’t feel like good-bye.
Griffin made a noise that sounded like a growl and deepened the kiss. Justine leaned into him and her hands found their way beneath his jacket and around his waist, pulling him closer. His shirt was untucked, and she slid her fingers onto the smooth skin just above his waist. He pushed against her with a ragged sigh of pleasure.
And then, as if an unspoken command had passed between them, they pulled apart at the exact same moment.
“This is stupid,” Justine whispered, her throat too choked with emotion to manage anything more.
Griffin leaned his forehead against hers, breathing heavy. “‘Stupid’ isn’t the word I was thinking of.”
“This can’t happen. It’s not fair to either of us.”
He nodded.
“I’m not doing it again. My heart can’t take it.” She used every bit of her strength to pull herself out of his arms. “I have to go.”
She walked over to get her purse, then whistled for Spencer. He leapt off the couch and ran to her like they were headed out for an adventure.
“Can I at least say bye to him? I mean, this is it . . . for good.”
“Sorry,” Justine said, quickly dropping his leash. “I keep forgetting this is the last time.”
Griffin flinched, then recovered quickly.
“Hey, Spence. C’mere!” It was a modified version of his happy voice, one they could all tell was pretending at the emotion and not really feeling it. Griffin dropped to his knees as Spencer got closer, and the dog ran int
o him like he was a defensive lineman, knocking him off-balance and onto the ground.
Justine smiled sadly as Spencer pinned him and covered his face with sloppy kisses
“Are you my best boy? Yes, you are.” Griffin got up on his knees and lowered his voice to encourage Spencer to calm down. “Look at you, so handsome, even with that red stuff on your fur. My best guy.”
Spencer sat in front of him panting with his head tilted back. He scooched closer and closer until his body was flush against Griffin’s.
“I’m going to miss you, buddy,” he said softly. Griffin wrapped his arms around Spencer and hugged him, and even though Justine knew Spencer wasn’t a fan of hugs, the dog seemed to lean into it, almost as if he knew this hug mattered. After a few seconds Spencer tilted his head back and licked Griffin’s chin. “I love you too. But I know you’re in the best possible place. Stay happy, my good boy.”
He finally let go and Spencer stood next to him waiting for information about what to do next. It was as if the air was charged with something unpleasant the dog could sense, and it confused him. Griffin sniffled a few times and looked like he was tearing up.
“Spence, time to go,” Justine said softly. Spencer dashed to her and she picked up the leash; then they headed to the door together. “Thanks for everything, Griffin.”
Justine didn’t look over her shoulder as she grasped the doorknob, because there was nothing left to say, but Spencer paused and gave Griffin one last, long glance before the door clicked shut behind them.
chapter thirty-nine
You don’t like my scallops?” Luis frowned at Justine’s plate as he cleared the communal table at Monty’s. It was a full moon, which meant that the restaurant was open for one of their twelve special “Full Moon Saloon” BYOB dinners.
“No, they’re amazing. And the mushroom risotto is incredible. But I’m not that hungry tonight, I’m sorry.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask why.
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