Cosy
The truest test of a relationship is sticking by someone when they’re falling apart. And that’s exactly what happens after we run into Imogen. It’s understandable considering she slept with his cousin, and Armstrong was the one who told her to go back to Griffin, since apparently he had no desire to take care of the mess they made together.
Griffin’s cousin is a serious asshole.
The concierge brings up all of our purchases from this morning’s shopping trip, which seems like a million years ago. Griffin pulls out a giant bottle of bourbon and pours himself a pint glass full. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but it’s a serious glass of bourbon, whole hand, not three fingers, and no ice.
He also decides we need to start hanging art right away, which means he gets out his tool box.
I take the glass and put it aside. “How about we talk, instead of you getting shitfaced and using power tools?”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Really? So you’re not the least bit affected by the fact that you found out your cousin, a known cheater, and from what I can tell, a complete psychopath, slept with your ex-fiancée to spite you? Then when he ended up getting her pregnant, he told her to go back to you because he wants nothing to do with her?” Saying it out loud makes it so much worse.
Griffin bows his head and clenches his fists at his side. “You should just leave.”
My stomach sinks. “Do you want me to leave?”
“You will eventually when you realize I’ve got too much baggage.” His voice is low with gravel.
I sigh and take his hands in mine. “Everyone has baggage, Griffin. You’ve just been given an overfull suitcase to carry around with you, but you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll carry it with you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Okay, first of all, don’t start telling me what I should or shouldn’t do, it’s patronizing and annoying. You know why relationships don’t work?”
“Because people realize they don’t want to deal with someone else’s shit anymore?”
“I guess that’s a possibility, but from what I’ve seen, relationships end when people stop communicating. You’re not saving either of us any pain by pretending you’re fine. Talk to me. Fall apart on me. Show me your weakness, so I can give you my strength.”
He’s slow to lift his gaze, anguish and fear holding him prisoner in his own head. “I don’t want to be too much for you.”
I settle my palm against his cheek. “Well, I want to be just enough for you, so let me give it a shot.”
“Everything was so good. We were good this morning.” His voice is barely a whisper.
“And we’ll be good again, but right now you’re not okay, Griffin, so be not okay with me.” I take his hand in mine and settle it on my hip, then step into him. I wrap my arms around his waist, praying that my love is bigger than the hurt he’s been caused.
His body remains rigid for long seconds before he finally latches onto me, squeezing tightly.
And then he falls apart as anyone would if they were betrayed so viciously by someone they once loved.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into my hair.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m right here, going nowhere.” Imogen might have broken him, but I’ll be here to pick up all the pieces, and it’ll be my love that glues him back together.
Which is exactly what I do.
We spend the rest of the weekend holed up in Griffin’s penthouse, and I see him at his most vulnerable. I learn his soft side, his insecurities, and I fall even harder for this man who wants nothing more than to love and be loved unconditionally.
And I reassure him with words and actions that I’m his person, and he’s mine, for as long this love binds us together, which I believe is forever.