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I rub my hands together and focus on getting us out of here.
“There should be a driver picking us up.” I motion toward the door Jess mentioned.
“Okay.”
Before I know what’s happening, Griffin reaches for the handle of my suitcase and starts pulling it alongside him. Apparently, two muscular forearms working hard are better than one.
“Thank you.”
“You bet.” He offers a small smile.
The giddiness I’m feeling at the simple gesture of him pulling my suitcase is ridiculous. Having a man to help me with my luggage is not a reason to swoon. I tamp down the butterflies swirling in my belly.
We move through the sliding doors and toward the curb where a driver holding a sign with my name is waiting.
The driver loads our suitcases into the black sedan, then holds the door for us to enter.
I’m not usually an awkward person, but in the back seat of this car with Griffin, I can’t seem to find my footing.
Griffin seems at ease. He’s like that. I think.
It’s like flying to the largest city in the country to convince a magazine editor, not to mention my family and friends, that we’ve had a whirlwind romance and our marriage was not just a drunken mistake in Vegas is not fazing him at all. Or maybe I’m projecting the chaotic feelings I’m having onto Griffin. A sense of panic enveloped me the moment we touched down in New York. Everything since Saturday night has been happening in hyper-speed and only in this moment of calm on the drive to my parents’ apartment am I finally realizing the magnitude of what course I have set in motion.
Griffin’s in New York. He’s here to be my husband. There’s no going back.
He’s silently staring out the window, taking in the city. His hands are resting on his legs, his fingers curved over the outside of his thighs in a relaxed pose. My fingernail finds my mouth.
I should have a million things to say to him. We have so much to talk about before we meet with Kandi Kline…before we meet with anyone, but when I look over at him, my throat goes dry. I settle for pointing out landmarks and tourist attractions along the route.
“My cousin, Barrett, and his fiancée, Chloe, live on 72ndStreet.” I point down the street as we pass. “They’re getting married in two weeks from Saturday. We’ll need to get you a suit.”
He nods.
“Thank you, again, for doing this. I know it’s a lot to ask.”
“I want to make things right. You didn’t get into this alone.”
“But I’m the one who made the video that outed us. You had nothing to do with that.”
“If I’d tucked you into bed like I promised myself I would, then you wouldn’t have been at that chapel making the video.”
“And if I hadn’t proposed to you on the rollercoaster, we wouldn’t have been at the chapel.”
His lips twitch, considering my theory.
“I guess I’m a bad influence, huh?” I laugh.
“The worst.” His smile tells me something different.
For the moment, my nerves subside.
“This is it.” I motion out the window to the apartment building we’ve pulled up to. “Home sweet home. Well, my parents’ place. I moved back a few months ago after Alec and I broke up. I’m still looking for a new place.”
The driver sets our bags on the curb while we exit.
“Welcome back, Miss Warner.” Scott, the doorman, opens the glass door for us. “Sir.” He nods at Griffin.
“Scott, this is Griffin. My…husband.” My brain trips over the word husband. This is the first time I’m introducing Griffin to someone in my life. Even though the media post is out there confirming our marriage, this is me confirming it. The first of many introductions. It feels like a pivotal moment.
