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“I’m good, Peyton.” He offers his hand to my sister again. “Nice to see you again, Parker. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Nice to see you too. You remember Holden and Cameron?” she asks.

“I do. Nice to see you again.” He offers both of them his hand to shake as well. “You must be Drew. I’m Griffin. Nice to meet you.”

“You as well.”

“So, are we ready to go?” I ask the group.

“Hold up, ladies, you need to change. This place says it has a dress code,” Cameron says, reading from his phone. He looks up at Griffin. “Have you ever been to Anthony’s? Do they really need to change?” he asks.

Griffin smiles. “That’s actually my dad’s restaurant. Let me call them and see if the back room is available. If so, we can go as we are.” Griffin pulls his phone out of his pocket and makes the call. “Hey, Macey, it’s Griffin. Hey, can you tell me if the back room is open today?” He pauses. “Perfect. Can you put me down for six for the next three hours, please?” Another pause. “Great, thanks. Hey, is my dad there today?” He laughs. “Yeah, let him know I’ll be there with Peyton and some of her family. Thanks, Macey.” He slides his phone back into his pocket before addressing Cameron. “The back room is ours. No dress code is required. We can go in through the back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“You’re not going to get into trouble with your dad for this, are you?” I ask him.

“No. Not at all. He’s not working in the kitchen today, but he is there. I know you were going to meet him tonight, but don’t be surprised if he stops in to say hello.”

“No pressure,” I grumble, and he laughs as he slides his arm around my shoulder and presses his lips to my temple. “They’re going to love you,” he assures me.

“Right. So, shall we go?” Parker asks. My sister knows this is uncomfortable for me. Having all of them here with Griffin. A guy I just met but feel as though I’ve known a lifetime.

“Let’s do this.”

Together we make our way to the elevator. Griffin, as suspected, places his hand on the small of my back and leads me out of our room and down the hall to wait for the elevator. Cameron, Drew, and Holden ask him about baseball, and he talks to them as if they were just strangers off the street. He doesn’t seem to be starstruck by their positions with the Blaze. I move to stand a little closer to him, and he slides his arm around my waist. I knew he was different. And I know what the sport means to him, so this has to be a big deal, but he’s taking it in stride. He’s not fanning all over them. They’re just my family, who happen to be the general manager and two starting players for a Major League baseball team.

“How are we driving over?” Holden asks.

“I have my rental.”

“The three of us have one too,” Parker points out as we step onto the elevator.

“I have my Jeep too,” Griffin adds.

“We don’t all need to drive,” Parker comments.

“Okay, well, Griffin and I are going to drive separately. Whoever else can follow us since we’re taking the back entrance. Sound good?” I ask as we step off the elevator. We make our way outside as the conversation of who is driving continues.

“Where are you parked?” Drew asks Griffin.

“There.” Griffin points at his Jeep parked in front of the hotel.

“I’m right beside you. Let’s just take mine,” Drew says and starts walking toward his car while Griffin and I head to his Jeep. “We’re right behind you,” Drew calls out to us.

Griffin walks me to the passenger side of his Jeep and opens the door for me. “It’s really good to see you, Peyton,” he says before closing the door and making his way to his side.

“I’m sorry in advance for anything the four of them say or do while we are having lunch.”

“It’s fine, Peyton. I promise I can handle it.”

“Do you have a lot of experience with this kind of thing? Meeting the family?”

“No. I already told you that I don’t.”

“Then how could you possibly know that you can handle it?”

“Because you’re going to be there with me. I’m pretty damn sure I could endure a whole hell of a lot just to get to sit next to you.”

“You can’t say things like that,” I blurt as I place my hand over my quivery belly.

“What? Why not? It’s the truth.”

“Because it causes my belly to be queasy.”

“Good queasy or bad queasy?” he asks.

“Good. Like a swarm of butterflies.” I feel stupid for saying any of that out loud, but the smile he gives me tells me he’s glad I did.

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