“Really?” All the breath leaves my lungs. “That’s great. Really, it’s—”
“Send it to my manager,” she says again. She rattles off an email address and I fumble to jot it in my phone while not losing my grip on the sheet.
When I replace the phone to my ear, she’s shouting what sounds like a dinner order to someone far away. “Look, I have to go,” she says when she’s back on the line. “Filming resumes in five. I’ll tell Barney to watch for your message. And Mari?”
The fact that she’s using my first name instead of “Dr.” catches me off-guard. “Yes?”
“If there are any casting opportunities on your show,” she says slowly, “you can pass those along to my manager, too.”
She clicks off before I can reply, which is just as well. I’m pretty sure my jaw just dropped to the deck. With a shiver, I hike the sheet around my breasts and turn back toward the house. What is Griffin thinking? He must still be inside, and how am I going to explain this? Why I urgently had to take a phone call outside while mostly naked and still glowing from our second sex session.
“Mari?”
I whirl and my heart kicks up seeing Lauren and Lana strolling across the lawn. There’s a shortcut that runs from the bunker to Lana’s cabin, and apparently they’re on it.
“Hey there.” I grip the sheet tighter and force a smile. “Everything all wrapped up with the event?”
A slow, measured smile spreads over Lauren’s face as she ambles toward me with Lana on her heels. “I knew it!” She turns and looks at our baby sister. “Didn’t I tell you she slipped out to bang the hottie brewer?”
I start to close my eyes but stop when I see the furrow in Lana’s brow. “If she’s hooking up with Griffin,” Lana says slowly, “things must not be going well if she’s out here alone in a bed sheet.”
The public relations wheels are turning in her head, and I hurry to dispel her worst-case fears. “I’m fine,” I assure them. “Everything’s okay. I just—needed to take a phone call.”
Lauren looks down at the phone in my hand. “Did you at least get a few good orgasms before you yanked the sheet off loverboy and left him cold and naked in your bed?”
Cringing at the mental picture, I fumble for the best way to end this conversation. “Can we please not make a big deal of this? I’m not ready to talk about things publicly right now.”
Lana’s smile is tinged with relief. “We’re not public; we’re your sisters. And we know how to keep our traps shut.” She glances at Lauren and elbows her.
“What?” Lauren rolls her eyes. “Of course I’m not going to say anything. Who you bang is your business.” She folds her arms over her chest. “Even on the set of a television show dedicated to documenting people’s messy personal lives.”
It’s not a threat. Quite the opposite, though anyone who didn’t know Lauren wouldn’t hear that. She’s letting me know they’ll do their part to keep this piece of Griffin’s storyline out of the limelight. A wave of gratitude washes through me and I give her a tight nod.
“Thank you for not saying anything.” I look from one sister to the other, confirming my understanding. “And for walking away quietly and pretending you never saw this.”
Lana studies me with undisguised curiosity. “Why do I think there’s one helluva story here?”
“You have no idea.” I clench my sheet tighter, then sweep it behind me like the train of a ball gown. “I need to get back inside.”
The catcall behind me comes from Lauren, though I’m pretty sure it’s Lana humming oooh-la-la as I stumble barefoot across the deck.
As I near the door, I struggle to get my thoughts in order. How much did he hear before I made it outside? Did I say anything to clue him in about who was on the phone? I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure.
The reality is this: He could ask me point-blank why I spoke with his ex-wife, and I could neither confirm nor deny that I did. That’s how the law works. It’s there to protect patients, and I’m ethically bound to do it.
But right now, I kinda hate it.
I push through the door to find Griffin seated shirtless at my kitchen table. He smiles as I walk in and sets his fork down on an empty plate. “I kept your omelet warm for you,” he says. “Sorry, I got hungry.”
“It’s me who’s sorry.” I glance at the stove and see the perfect ham and cheese omelet capped with the glass lid of my skillet. “Thank you.”
For the food. For the sex. For understanding my need to go flying out the door moments after the most intimate experience of my life.
When I glance back at Griffin, he’s got a curious expression. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, sorry. Just something I needed to deal with quickly.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “I can leave anytime you need privacy. You don’t need to flee your own house half-naked.”
I glance down and hike the sheet higher. “I had to make a snap decision and the call was pretty urgent.” I’m feeling naked and exposed, and only part of that has to do with what I’m wearing. “Do you mind if I put on some clothes?”
“Be my guest,” he says. “Actually, could you grab my T-shirt while you’re in there?”
“Of course.” And now I’m remembering our plan to tumble back in bed with our food, fueling ourselves for round three. “I’m so sorry about…this.”
“Don’t be.” He grins and gets up from the table. “I know the kind of work you do comes with privacy restrictions.”
I look into his eyes. Does he really? Would he understand if I told him right now how tightly my hands are tied?
But of course, I can’t say that. I can’t say any of it, and I can’t reach out and touch his face the way I’m dying to. I know where that might lead, and right now, I can’t afford to get any closer to Griffin Walsh.
So I turn and walk down the hall, feeling his eyes on my naked back.
Avoiding a guy after having sex with him and dropping the L-word is a terrible idea.
I’ve explained that to more than one client over the years, and the fact that I find myself doing it now is not a point of pride. In my defense, I end up leaving town for two days to attend a Human Resources seminar in Portland. I text Griffin a few times, doing my best to keep it light.
Miss you!
I miss you, too!
See you when you get back?
Of course. Looking forward to it.
What I’m not looking forward to is feeling like a jerk for hiding such a massive piece of information from the man I love with whom I’ve exchanged bodily fluids. I can be open about my feelings, but not the fact that I played a pivotal role in his divorce?
That doesn’t sound right, but it’s my reality as I send yet another email to Elle’s manager.
“Per my last message, I’m circling back in case I’ve slipped through the cracks…”
That’s code for “what the fuck is taking so long, just sign the goddamn consent form already.” But I can’t say that, so I wait on pins and needles and hope Griffin doesn’t notice the space between us is more than physical.