“Oh,” I say. “I don’t know why I thought you stayed in Larkspur the whole time. I guess I just assumed.”
“Don’t know why you’d think otherwise,” he says, tone taking on a bitter edge. “I told you that’s what I wanted,and never told you I tried any different. Doesn’t really matter now, does it?”
I’ve got no response to that. Does it matter? If I had known he was willing to try venturing out of Larkspur, would things have worked out differently?
My thoughts echo his own words–doesn’t really matter now, does it?
“Well, here it is,” he says, arm sweeping across the view. “Fountain and terrace to the right, rose garden to the left. Lighting out here is all solar-powered, first space in Larkspur to do that.”
The corners of my mouth turn upwards at the gruff pride in his voice. He’s playing nonchalant, but I know this is probably a huge deal to him.
“It looks phenomenal, Griffin,” I say emphatically. “Seriously, I can’t believe you managed this. I never would have guessed this place had so much potential.”
“A far cry from its barn party days, huh?” he says, an amused smirk fighting its way onto his face. “C’mon, let me show you the garden. Margo said you have something special planned for the reunion?”
“I think so,” I shrug. “Who knows if it’ll turn out, but I think I’ve got a pretty solid plan.”
“I’m sure any idea of yours is going to be perfect,darlin’.”
He stiffens, and my stomach drops at the slip of the old pet name. He clears his throat, then continues forward as if nothing happened. “It’s a loop, but not a perfect circle. It’s easy to get lost in it, in a good way. When there’s a party going, the noise doesn’t break through the hedges, so it’s easy to pretend it’s just you out here.”
“Sounds peaceful,” I murmur, stopping to sniff one of the yellow flowers. “What kind of roses are they?”
“Yellow rose of Texas, wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says with a half-smile. “There are other flowers around the fountain, but I wanted a true rose garden over here. The landscaper wanted a variety, but I dug my heels in.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I laugh, bumping his shoulder with mine. I hear his breath catch at the contact, and immediately step away, worried it was too much for him.
He looks down at me, then grins and bumps my shoulder back. “I learned how to be stubborn from the very best.”
“I’m not stubborn,” I grumble, crossing my arms in front of my chest. He lets out a loud laugh, throwing his head back at the bald faced lie.
“Sure, and David’s not a moron,” he says, still laughing. “And Jack doesn’t iron his khakis nightly.”
This sends us both into a fit of laughter, and I can’t remember the last time I felt this light. The initial awkwardness has faded completely, replaced by the comfortable companionship of two people who’ve known each other for nearly fourteen years.
Well, if you count the five we went without speaking, which I don’t know that you can.
We finally stop long enough to catch our breaths, his grin knocking the wind out of me all over again. With all the people I’ve encountered across the years, I’ve never found someone with a smile that lights me up the way his does.
We finish the loops through the garden and head in the direction of the fountain. It’s nothing ostentatious, but adds a tranquil beauty that makes the expansive grounds feel intimate. He paints a picture of cocktail tables and candles, pointing out where the outdoor bar gets set up and where additional seating can be added if necessary.
From there, the rest of the walkthrough is all business. We talk logistics and lighting, sounds systems and catering tables, and every possible disaster and contingency in place.
It’s perfect–I couldn’t have dreamed up a better place to execute my vision. Despite all my bitching and moaning,I’m excited to add “best reunion this town has ever seen” to my resumé right under “best wedding.”
The tour comes to close as we reach the front door, lingering even though there’s nothing else to go over. I don’t think either of us are ready to break this spell. For the past hour, it’s been like none of the misery and heartbreak happened. We’re just Ellie and Griffin, the way it was when we were teenagers, head over heels for each other with no inkling of the turmoil the future would have for us.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to work,” I say, even though that’s the last thing I want to do. “It was good to see you, Griffin.”
“You too, Eleanor,” he says in a quiet voice. “I’ve missed you. I do miss you. More than you know.”
I think about you every day. I miss you so much it hurts to breathe. I promise I know.
But I don’t say that, because I’m a coward. It’s been a long time since I was brave enough to give big, emotional, grand-gesture monologues. Instead, I leave without another word, waving one more time before I get into my car.
That went a lot better than it could have, Ellie. Who knows what could happen.
A twinge of hope ripples through me, until I remember that Griffin is with Madison now. Silent tears stream downmy face as I force myself to accept that nothing is ever going to happen again for Ellie Turner and Griffin Hart.
