Almost Married

You're hot like a dream

Girl, what you do to me

My insides melt like cream

What you do to me

Some of the other tenants came out to listen. Pete, a guy in his twenties, bobbed his head in time to the music. Someone in a hoodie stood next to Pete. Maybe his girlfriend? It was hard to tell, but the size of the person said woman. Roberta and Pauline, sisters who shared the first floor apartment, looked enthralled. Griff kept singing, right to her, his heart in his eyes.

You make me whole

You make me complete

My soul, my heart calls to you

Will you answer, or will I wait alone

Once I held you, once you were mine

Girl, what you do to me.

Tears stung her eyes. Damn him and his thrilling music. This was the song he’d written for her in between gigs on his first tour.

He finished the song and called up to her with a glance toward his audience. “That song was inspired by my wife, Steph.”

Everyone stared up at her. The man loved an audience.

She worked to harden her heart toward him. “Get lost, Griff.”

This time he addressed her directly, looking right in her eyes. “I've never loved anyone but you.”

“Awww…” Roberta and Pauline said in unison.

Something shifted in Steph's heart. She felt the truth of his words. She had loved him once. Was there still some small part of the Griff she used to know deep inside him? The man she loved before the rock ’n’ roll machine ate him up and spit him out a star?

And then just like that she lost his attention. Roberta and Pauline rushed him for autographs that Griff happily signed, chatting with them amiably. He posed for some pictures with cell phone cameras.

Her heart closed against him. She’d wasted an entire year waiting for Griff to come back to her, even as the evidence mounted that she’d been abandoned. And the women he’d been with, splashed all over the tabloids, without a peep from him. No remorse, not even the decency to keep his affairs out of the press. It had devastated and embarrassed her. Finally, two years after he’d left her, she’d managed to get a new job in Clover Park, moving away from the town where everyone knew her and Griff’s sordid story, to a town where no one knew her at all. She’d never mentioned him, had even gone so far as to cut her hair short to look different from before, in case any old pictures of them were circulating from the brief time when she’d been in the spotlight with him. (Once she felt comfortable, with no gossip circulating about her in town that she’d ever heard, she let her hair grow out again.) She’d started a new life for herself and refused to look back.

And now, five years later, the divorce papers finally made Griff realize he loved her. It was too late. Too damn late.

~ ~ ~

The next day Dave still didn’t have anything great planned for winning Steph. In desperation, last night he’d Googled “romantic things men can do” and called his sister, both of which had been less than helpful. The Internet had come up with stuff like roses, jewelry, and chocolate. But he was competing with a rock star, so he knew he had to go big. His call to Christina had been a complete disaster. As soon as she heard the name Griffin Huntley, she was like a derivative of velocity—pure annoying acceleration, going fast in one direction. Their conversation went like this:

Chris: “I want to meet him.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“No.”

After several rounds of that, Chris proclaimed, “I’m not just saying this because I’m hot for the guy! I sincerely want to help you. I can distract him while you make your move on Steph.”

“Look, it’s not gonna happen. I wouldn’t wish this guy on any woman and especially not my sister.”

“I can handle myself.”

“No.”

They went a few more rounds before he finally threatened to hang up on her. That prompted Chris to yell, “Do something specific to Steph, not something you got off the Internet!” which was also less than helpful. What specific thing would blow Steph away? She appeared to have it all—a nice apartment, a nice job, a nice cat. What could he possibly give her?