Page 70 of Love Felt Like This

“You’re hunched like a gargoyle,” Nana whispers.

“Am I?”

I look down and see how close I am to my plate. I straighten my posture. My back pops.

“You all right?” Nana asks.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m good.”

I let my gaze catch Griffin’s again. He narrows his eyes.

I’ve got to pull myself together. I’m losing it over here, and this man is watching me like a hawk. Of course he is. His career hinges on my ability to write scripts. He needs inspiration, and I’m doing a terrible job of providing him anything but zombie impressions. I’ve barely finished the second script, and the first is so atrocious I still haven’t let him read it. He can’t write songs until I do.

Beau once said that Birds on the Block was my world—that even he couldn’t compare. Sure, he followed it with laughter because puppets aren’t even alive, which, of course, I know that. I’m not a child. But Beau never really understood my work. As I watch Griffin over my plate, I know he won’t get it either. Not after he so easily dismissed the display case.

What happens if our partnership doesn’t work out? I’ve wasted not only my time but his too. Neither of us will have anything to show for it.

“Hey, did you wanna play guitar soon?” Rob asks.

Griffin’s eyes finally swivel away from mine. “Sure do.”

I wonder if he’s regretting that promise to my brother. It’s hard to tell with Griffin. At least with Beau, I could recognize when he thought my brother was being annoying.

Greg slaps his palms together. “All right, before we whip out guitars, I made some chocolate-mayonnaise cake. Anyone want some?”

The whole table groans.

“I think you’re trying to torture me,” Momma accuses.

Greg laughs. “I’m playing with recipes!”

“I liked your tomato hobby more.”

“Hydroponic plants,” he corrects.

“Why mayo?” Rob asks.

Greg shrugs. “Hey, it’s a good substitute for eggs, all right? Linda isn’t laying right now.”

Momma rolls her eyes. “It’s really nice that you’re taking care of Daisy’s chicken while she’s gone, but do you think maybe the girl just doesn’t like you?”

Greg clicks his tongue. “Linda or Daisy? Either way, the answer is no. They both adore me.”

“You wish,” Rob coughs.

“Listen here,” Greg threatens with a grin, but Rob laughs and dodges our uncle’s playful shove. I’d join in if I weren’t so tired.

I stand. “I’m gonna make coffee if anyone wants some with their mayo cake.”

Greg laughs. “It doesn’t taste like mayo!”

Dad raises his hand. “I’ll take some coffee, sugar. With some sugar, please.” Everybody groans.

I journey to the kitchen and open the cabinet to get coffee filters, but we’re out. Our spares are on the top cabinet (thanks a lot, tall Dad). I stand on my tiptoes to reach it, but another arm beside me extends higher.

Griffin is at my back, his large body hovering inches from mine. I stiffen in place. He smells like leather and the cold bite of winter, like a freeze stuck to his flannel sweater. A wintergreen mint. He pulls the coffee filters down and hands them to me. I gingerly take the pack.

“Oh. Thanks,” I mumble.