“Sorry.” Griffin squeezes his temples, his cheeks turning pink, then flashes her a sheepish smile. “I think with all the time I’ve spent laid up, I’m a little rusty. Can I try again?”
Aria’s shoulders settle, a spark running through her veins like adrenaline and hope wound up together. “Sure thing.”
Griffin closes the gap, pulls Aria into a hug, and when he steps back, he keeps ahold of her upper arms. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t know if I’d see you tonight, but it seems I’m in luck.”
Aria’s face breaks into a smile so deep it begins to hurt. For a moment she considers holding back, pretending like those words don’t wrap her heart in fuzzy warmth. But she already took those walls down, brick by brick.
“I was looking forward to seeing you. And this”—Aria whirls around with hands held out—“is amazing.”
Griffin looks around at the event, nodding. “It’s saved me really. Getting going on something else.”
Reflexively, Aria glances at his knee.
“Yeah.” Griffin leans closer, and the piney scent of his aftershave sends a shiver across Aria’s skin. “Between us, I have a good feeling it’s shot.”
Aria’s eyes go wide. “What?You’reserious?”
Griffin shrugs. “Never say never, but also, I don’t want to go back and be less than my prime.”
Aria pauses for a moment. She might’ve become fluent in basic football by watching on television—and hearing jargon from her time alongside Griffin—but she’s no sports medicine doctor. It’s tricky to know what Griffin may be over- or understating.
“How’re you feeling about all of that? Like you said, football’s been your life—”
“You were right.” Griffin looks at her with true affection. “About there being more to me than the sport.”
“It’s obvious to the rest of us. Has been all along.”
He lets out a tight breath, and his shoulders drop. “It’s hard to see from the inside. But now I’m excited about the rest of life. Aboutthis. About the whole prospect of my life having a next chapter—then maybe even more chapters after that.”
Aria smiles. It’s impossible not to be happy for him. Objectively, he knew football wasn’t a forever thing, but the change in him is undeniably clear: He’s realized that a busted knee won’t be the end of him.
“I’m so proud of you, Griff. This is a tough hand to be dealt for any player. You’re navigating it in true golden-boy style.”
Griffin laughs. “Eh. I wouldn’t speak too soon. I’m only at the beginning of this, and you didn’t see everything behind the scenes.”
The comment lingers, trapped between the two of them. Aria would’ve seen the rest had she been allowed. If he had opened the door, Aria would’ve walked in. She wanted to stay as long as he needed her.
“I’m sorry, by the way,” Griffin says. “For shutting you out. Not only was it the least smooth move of my life, it was a terrible idea. I hope I didn’t mess anything up.”
“I understand.” Aria chews her lip as she fumbles for the right words to say next. She wants to ask what he’s referring to when he says “mess anything up.” Does he mean the actual relationship between them—what they agreed to keepa friendship? Or was he talking about their fake friendship partnership deal? “Do you—”
“Griffin, hey, sorry to interrupt.” A dazzling young woman with dark brown hair and olive skin grazes his upper arm with her freshly polished nails. “It’s time to start the presentation. We don’t want to miss out on anyone if they’re making it a quick stop.”
Griffin glances over apologetically. “Sorry, Aria, can we catch up later on? I meant it when I said it was great to see you.”
The assistant gasps. “Aria Wilder? Griffin, you’re holding out on us! I’m a mega fan!” She squeaks in a manner that makes her endearing.
Aria smiles. “I see an invite from my Griffin, and I do my very best to make it.”
The assistant begins to physically ferry Griffin away but calls over her shoulder, “You don’t have to tell me twice! I foresee many a Griffin Hayes Foundation event on your calendar.”
They disappear into the crowd, then up a set of stairs to the roped-off second level that acts as a balcony. Up there a microphone is set up, and the assistant stops Griffin before he takes it, probably coaching him on his talking points.
A small fire flickers in the very depth of Aria’s belly. She’s tried to talk to Griffin multiple times at this point, to tell him how she feels, and every time his injury or, now, his foundation work gets in the way. Since when was she a person who lets life get in the way? Since when was she willing to take no for an answer?
The assistant calls the crowd to attention, and Aria sees the opportunity.
It’s now or never.
