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I look at her. “Do you love Marty?”
“Sure.” She shrugs. “I do.”
“You’re going to stick with this one through thick or thin, good or bad?” I cock a brow. “Better or for worse?”
“Look, I get that I haven’t had the best luck when it comes to marriage.” She eyes up her new engagement ring. “Just between you and me, I think I might have let Mr. Right slip through my fingers in college.”
“How do you know he was Mr. Right?”
“He still owns this.” Her hand leaps to the middle of her chest. “My heart.”
I set the paper and pen back down. “Have you considered looking for Mr. Right, Morgan? Maybe you still own his heart too.”
“I don’t.” Her voice softens. “I pushed him away. I didn’t realize what I had until it was too late.”
“Why did you push him away?”
She heaves a sigh. “I got scared. It felt like he was too good for me, and one day he’d wake up and realize it. I didn’t want to be so far in that my heart wouldn’t recover so I ended it first.”
I search her face. “You regret that now, don’t you?”
“More than you know, Griffin. More than you know.”
Chapter 49
Piper
“His name was Rory.”
I turn at the sound of Griffin’s voice behind me. I’ve just exited my apartment on my way to the store. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him.
I’ve wanted to reach out to him numerous times, but I always stopped myself. Sebastian gave me the strength to do that.
He came into the gallery a week after we were both ordered out of Griffin’s apartment. He brought me a gift. It was a painting by the same artist who had created the masterpieces that hang in Griffin’s home office.
The artist is Rory Kent, Griffin’s late brother.
I didn’t press for more details than that.
I wanted to hear the story from Griffin when he was ready.
“Do you want to come in?” I touch the door of my apartment. “We can talk inside.”
He nods as he approaches. “I’m sorry, Piper.”
“I know,” I say quietly as I open the door.
He follows me through in silence, closing and locking the door behind us. “I’ve spent all this time trying to come up with the right words.”
I move toward the sofa, tossing my keys and my purse on an armchair. “They don’t have to be the right words. They just need to be honest.”
He waits for me to take a seat before he settles in beside me.
I reach to grab his hands and pull them into my lap. I finally look right at hi
m. A light beard covers his jaw and his hair is in desperate need of a trim. He’s not wearing a suit and tie today even though it’s Tuesday morning.
Today, he’s dressed much like I am, in jeans and a T-shirt.
