His lips pull into a tight grin.
After the phone gets passed around the room, Sherri hands it to me. It’s a photo of a smiley Morgan with a sticky note on her tummy that says “Happy birthday, Swayze.” I don’t stare at it too long, and I don’t react to it because I know Griffin’s eyes are on me. Instead, I slip the phone in my pocket and finish the last few spoonfuls of chocolate and vanilla cake soup.
“We should have invited them to your party.” Sherri says like a verbal facepalm.
Yeah, that would have been a great idea. Just me, my fiancé, my boyfriend from another life, and his daughter named after me from that other life.
“I think he had plans this weekend. His birthday was yesterday.”
“I hope he had plans, otherwise we could have celebrated both birthdays. We’ve been wanting to meet the sexy professor.” Sherri shoots my mom a suggestive grin, but Griffin looks ready to bust out of his clothes like the Hulk.
She has no idea her son is not a Professor Hunt fan, and he has no idea she’s making the sexy comment for my mom’s benefit, not mine.
“Sexy Professor?” Scott pinches Sherri’s leg.
She shoos him away. “For Krista. I’m happily married.”
He nuzzles her neck. “Better be.”
I love the alpha side to the Calloway men, except when mine makes me feel unwanted on my birthday.
“Sit, Swayze.” Hayley stands. “I’m skipping out early to go to a movie with Maycee.” She takes my empty bowl and hugs me. “Happy birthday, Sis.”
Sis … Don’t cry.
“Sit.” She jerks her head toward the empty spot on the sofa next to the Hulk.
Sherri and Scott chat with my mom about the Alaskan cruise they have planned for their anniversary next summer. Sophie and Chloe flip through the channels on the TV. I make the uncomfortable journey to the sofa and ease onto it, leaning toward the arm so my body doesn’t touch Griffin’s.
He taps his spoon against his empty bowl, releasing what I know are nerves or built up anger over our argument and probably the birthday text too. Sherri frowns, leaning forward and taking the bowl from him, setting it next to hers on the coffee table while rolling her eyes at him.
“Scoot over.” Sophie kicks her feet at Griffin as she tries to sprawl out on the other side of him.
He scoots toward me, forcing our bodies to touch. I stiffen, hugging my arms to myself. My mom’s brow wrinkles as she observes us, probably not paying any attention to Sherri and Scott’s verbal itinerary.
I have to either surrender with the yes-we’re-fighting-I’ll-tell-you-about-it-later look or I need to make a move that says we’re fine. But I can’t deal with another second of her scrutiny. Just as I decide to give her the look, Sherri glances at me as if she realizes my mom is distracted by something.
I’m not prepared to give Sherri that look, even if I think she’d understand, so I swallow every last bit of my stupid pride and ease my head against Griffin’s shoulder. If it looks half as awkward as it feels, I’m screwed.
He tenses. I guess he’s not in the mood to play along. Mom flinches, seeing the obvious rejection he’s giving me, but the gesture seems to be enough for Sherri to offer me a warm smile before returning her attention to Scott. Griffin’s hands remain folded in his lap. I feel like a fly on the backside of a horse. Any minute he could whip his tail and shoo me away.
My mom shoots a sympathetic look that I don’t need and returns her attention to Sherri as if to let me off the hook. I lift my head from his shoulder, releasing a slow breath while fiddling with my engagement ring, turning it in circles. Maybe I should slip it off, hand it to him, and leave.
What if he asked me if I still wanted to marry him because deep down he’s asking himself if he still wants to marry me? What if he wants me to go first, giving him an easy out?
“Have you two made honeymoon plans yet?” Sherri asks.
I gulp down a large pool of saliva.
Griffin fists his hand to his mouth, coughing while shaking his head several times. Nice response.
No.
No honeymoon plans.
There has to be a wedding first.
“Well, don’t wait too long. The earlier you book, the better deal you’ll get. Like your dad and I got a great deal on our trip to Alaska.”
Griffin nods. I’m not sure if he’s smiling at all. I refuse to turn my head that far to see his whole face.
Sherri gives us a twisted smile. “You two look bored. Go. I’m sure you have things you’d rather be doing.” She gives us a suggestive wink.
I look for that pathetic excuse of a smile again.
“Thanks for dinner, Mom.” Griffin stands, leaving me to sink back into the corner of the old sofa. “Goodnight, Krista.”
Bravo. He’s playing the part. But am I supposed to go with him? I stand. All of my stuff is at his house. I have nowhere else to go, but I’m sure my mom would take me in.
“Yes, thank you for dinner. It was really good.” I hug Sherri and Scott.
My mom stands, waiting for her hug. “Call me. I’m here for you, sweetie,” she whispers in my ear when we embrace.
I nod since words are trapped behind the ball of emotion lodged in my throat. They all wish me a final happy birthday as I slip on my coat and follow Griffin out the front door.
Yep. Happy birthday to me.
“I want to marry you, you stupid grocery store guy.” I stand a few feet from the front of his truck.
He stops at his door with his back to me.
“But I don’t have to. It won’t change my love for you. So maybe you find a girl who isn’t so fucked-up in the head. I’ll still love you. Maybe you marry her and have three wonderful children. I’ll still love you. If you no longer want to marry me … I’ll still love you. I’ll still love your family. I’ll still love the memories of who we were and the dream of what could have been. And I’ll wish you nothing but utter bliss and the most beautiful happiness because …”
Because you deserve something better than who I am at this point in my life—a lost soul sharing space with memories from another time.
“Get in,” he says, opening his door.
On a defeated sigh, my shoulders slump as I climb into his truck.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dr. Albright’s office is filled with three solid walls of books and one wall with a small window. It’s the same size office as Nate’s office, but it feels half the size because she’s clearly a collector. So many books.
“Please have a seat, Swayze.” She smiles.
My gaze drifts from the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and lands on her pale face that holds a pleasant, comforting smile. I ease into the chair.
“Tea?” She pours water into a teacup.
“No, thank you.” I return a smile as sweet as the two packets of sugar she adds to her tea. “My boss works here at the university.” I want to know if she knows Nate or if her book in his nightstand is just a coincidence.
“Is that so?” She keeps her gaze on the spoon and teacup.
“Nathaniel Hunt.”
Dr. Albright nods. “He was a student of mine.”
I wait for her to elaborate. She doesn’t.