Chapter Sixty-Nine
Sierra
Griffin and I have a quick lunch at the deli. My craving for peanut butter and jelly sandwich and pistachio ice cream has gone away for the moment, and the soup and crackers the deli provides are enough to satisfy me.
He eyes my food. “Is that enough?”
“Yes.” I sigh with happiness at the piping-hot clam chowder. It’s slightly salty and savory, just the thing my tongue and stomach have decided I need at the moment.
“You’re eating for four.”
“The other three are the size of a plum. Also, I’m eating more than normal.”
He frowns, his math brain probably deciding I need more calories.
“Don’t look up statistics and do an analysis to try to figure out if my reaction is normal. Pregnant women are all different.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He’s still going to look it up. I know it.
But that’s what makes him even more lovable. What he does comes from a place of love—and a need to make sure I’m okay.
“I wish I could leave with you now, but I have a meeting I really can’t cancel.” I make a face. “Bankers get angry when they think I’m wasting their time.”
He nods. “Time is money.”
I laugh. He’s so serious, but that’s what I love about him.
“I don’t want to disrupt your work.” His tone says my work is important to him, too. And that warms my heart. “Come to my place after you’re done.” He pulls out his phone and texts me his address.
“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
After lunch, I work like the devil to wrap up everything as efficiently as possible. Heather teases, “Got a hot date?”
I grin, not bothering to hide my excitement. “Yes.”
She shakes her head. “That man sure knows how to get you pumped up.”
At five thirty, I’m done. I shut down my laptop and dump everything into my purse. “See you tomorrow, Heather!” I wave as I run out of the office.
“See you tomorrow, Sierra!” She chuckles. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
I check the text to see where Griffin lives. He’s place is in an upper-middle-class residential area nestled between my neighborhood, Silicone Dream and Wollstonecraft College.
I drive into quiet streets full of nice single units with sizable yards. I turn onto his street and see his blue Prius in the driveway. I park behind it and get out.
My God. I can’t believe we’re back together again! It’s like everything bad is gone. I know we’re going to be stronger now. Because now we know how valuable what we have is—and we’re committed to fighting for it.
I take a moment to study his house. It’s a three-story structure with red brick walls and a gently sloping roof. Lots of bay windows on the first floor, but the second and third levels have shutters, which I’m sure are decorative because they’re attached to the walls. The lawn is immaculately cut.
I walk up and into the house, calling out, “Honey, I’m home!” as I open the door. The line is so corny that I have to laugh. But the laughter stops when I see what’s before me.
Thousands of flowers of all types and colors line the floor and cover the furniture in gorgeous vases. Their fragrance sweetens the air, and I inhale, mesmerized and impressed by the scene.
But where’s Griffin?None of this matters without him.
Then I see him stepping out from a giant arrangement of sunflowers. He’s holding a bouquet of daisies.