Page 119 of Love Felt Like This

He chuckles. “She’s Dom’s teenage daughter. She babysits Ava sometimes. I’ll be back.”

“Mmkay” is all I can gurgle out. He stands, gives one lingering look, then walks out of the room.

I lean my cheek on the toilet rim, blinking through memories of tonight, sniffing back a runny nose. Most things are a blur after I hunched over the bar / club / dance whatever’s toilet. We left Poe with the boys. Royce agreed to get him home, and Dom was already fishing out headache-relief meds for both me and Poe. Beau disappeared without even a goodbye.

I hear low murmurs from the hallway, and then a front door shuts. Griffin reappears in the bedroom doorway. He clicks on a distant lamp and walks back to the darkened bathroom. He leans against the doorway with one hand above his head on the doorjamb and the other in his pocket. His suit jacket is missing, but his chest hair still peeks out from under the linen shirt. The lamplight behind him gives him an ethereal glow. A god.

My heart is pounding, and hopefully it’s not over an urge to empty my stomach again. My head swims, and word vomit, rather than actual vomit, spouts out instead.

“You’re very good-looking, do you know that?”

I’m so messy. My words slur.

“Thank you,” he answers.

I sigh. “You’re way too popular for me, Griffin Harvey.”

He snorts. “No, you’re way too cool for me, Beverly Lark.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m not the one with two—no, three—first names.”

“I thought that made me untrustworthy.”

“You’re the most trustworthy. I’m drunk, and you’re being so…so…dadly.”

“Dadly?”

“You’re watching over me. You don’t have to. You’re going”—I have to find the words—“above and beyond.”

“If taking care of you is above and beyond, then that’s a very low bar.”

“Beau liked when I got drunk but not this drunk.”

Griffin tightens his jaw, grinding the molars back and forth before saying, “Beau is not a good person.”

“You’re a good person,” I counter.

“That’s not…” He closes his eyes, then opens them, as if processing. “I wasn’t asking for that compliment.”

“I know.” Because he is a good person. Griffin is the best type of person. “But you are,” I insist. “A good person. A good man.”

He sighs. “I’m not arguing with someone who’s drunk.”

“Because I’d win.”

Griffin huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Yeah, probably.”

He knocks the doorframe as if announcing his leave but then continues to linger. I wonder if he wants to talk about the bar. The weird moment between us. Maybe he just wants to forget it. I would understand why. Griffin doesn’t need another woman harboring a schoolgirl crush in a world where he’s everyone’s schoolgirl crush.

I must be thinking too hard, because I sway a little in place, despite sitting on the floor. He chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

“You.”

“I’m not even making jokes.”

“I know.”