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Chapter Nineteen
Darcy was miserable.
She’d been home ten days, it was the night before Christmas Eve, and all she wanted was to see Griffin.
Her friend Lydia had scored an invite to the hottest holiday party of the season. A party Darcy had been excited about and couldn’t wait to go to, but she’d canceled, pleading a stomach bug.
She couldn’t handle going out. She couldn’t stand the thought of getting dressed up, partying, or any of that nonsense. Everything seemed too crowded. And there were no stars in the sky. No open spaces.
And no Griff.
Since she’d been home, she’d tried to throw herself into work, but she kept drifting off, thinking of that last time with Griffin and how right he felt. How being with him felt like home.
So here she sat, alone, drinking red wine and watching snow fall over the city as she cried.
She looked at her phone, and all she wanted was to call him. To hear his voice. But she couldn’t do that. If she did, she’d crumble.
She tried to work up some righteous anger that he was being unreasonable. That it wasn’t fair to expect her to give up her life for him. But it wouldn’t stick. She didn’t blame him. How could she?
He belonged in Revival. He was the mayor. He had friends and family there. He had a life and a career, and the truth was she couldn’t imagine him living in New York.
He’d hate it.
And she couldn’t ask it. Wouldn’t.
She wanted to call him. She wanted to know how he was. Wanted to hear news about him. Was desperate for it. She couldn’t call her mom; all that would do is give her false hope.
Instead, on impulse she called Gracie Roberts. Maybe just hearing his name, that he was alive and surviving, would help ease the ache in her chest.
The phone rang three times before Gracie picked up.
At the sound of her voice, Darcy’s eyes filled with tears. She croaked out, “Gracie? It’s Darcy.”
“Oh no,” Gracie said, her tone concerned. “Are you okay?”
A sob escaped. “No.”
“Hang on one minute.” There was muffled talking over the line, then movement, before Gracie came back on. “Sorry about that. I’m glad you called.”
Darcy blinked as tears streamed down her face. “I don’t know why I did. I just . . . I . . . need . . .” She trailed off, unable to speak.
“You need to know about Griffin?” Gracie finished for her, somehow understanding exactly what Darcy wanted.
“Yes.”
There was a pause before Gracie spoke. “What do you want me to say? Do you want the truth? Or is there something you want to hear?”
“The truth.” She squeezed her eyes shut and realized the fervent hope in her heart was he was as miserable as she was. How terrible was she? She didn’t want him miserable. She wanted him happy. With her.
Gracie sighed. “You know men, they never talk about anything. But I can assure you he’s not great.”
Darcy started to cry in earnest. Embarrassed by her behavior, wishing she hadn’t called, she said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you. I-I-I miss him.”
“Of course you do. Can I ask you something?”
Darcy nodded and hiccupped. “Yes.”
“Why are you doing this?”
