Making Up (Shacking Up 4)

“Thank you.” Griffin guides me back toward the store. The only car in the lot is white and sporty.

“What happened to the Tesla?”

“I traded it in this afternoon.”

I stop walking. “Why?”

“I didn’t want to make the situation any worse with a bad memory.”

“All I have to do is look at my sister and the bad memory is right there in three dimensions, Griffin.”

He closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them, all I see is sadness and defeat. “I know I can’t take it back, but if I’d known you existed, I never would’ve let anything happen with your sister. I don’t do one-night stands as a general rule, and I actually have no memory at all of sleeping with your sister because I was so messed up. I get that this probably makes it worse and not better, but I meant it when I said I want to fix this, Cosy, even though I don’t think I can.”

I rub my forehead. How screwed up is it that neither of them can remember sleeping together, and until yesterday morning I probably would have classified having sex with Griffin as one of the most memorable nights of my life. And it still is, just not for the reasons I’d like. “I can’t unknow this, Griffin. And that’s the problem. If it were anyone other than my sister, it would be a lot easier to get over.”

“Does that mean there’s a chance you can get over it?” He looks so damn hopeful.

“I really don’t know.” But as I stand here, looking up into his distressed, remorseful, gorgeous face, I think maybe I’d like to at least give it a shot.

He nods as if he understands. “I like you, Cosy. A lot. Probably more than I should. I haven’t had this much fun with anyone in a long time. And I think maybe it’s the same for you, or was, so if there’s even the slightest chance that you’d be willing to try to get past this with me, we could see if we can make this work? Maybe? If you want to?”

“I wish you hadn’t slept with my sister.”

“I wish the same thing, Cosy. All I remember from that night was doing shots and her wanting to check out my car. That’s it. The rest is a fog. I don’t want you to regret being with me.”

I sigh. Freaking Nev and her stupid car-sex bucket list. “I don’t regret having sex with you. I seriously doubt any other first experience would be that amazing, and you were super sweet. It’s . . . really damn awkward, Griffin.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” He drops his head, but he’s still looking at me, all remorseful and annoyingly sexy.

“I believe you, and me too.” I consider my conversation with Nev yesterday morning, all the things Griffin has done over the past twenty-four hours and his contrition. Is this whole situation unfortunate and weird? Definitely. But I think I’ll regret it more if I don’t at least attempt to let it go. “I can try to get over you having bad judgment and sleeping with my sister before you knew I existed.”

He stares at me for a few seconds, as if he’s trying to figure out what that means. I know I am. “Does this mean you’ll let me take you out for dinner again?”

I hitch a shoulder. “As long as I’m not going to run into any other family members you’ve accidentally slept with while in Vegas.”

“You won’t. I promise.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I’ve only been shitfaced that one time since I’ve been here, and you’re the only other person I’ve been with.”

He’s so sincere, so I concede. “Okay. Then yes, you can take me out for dinner.”

“Are you still free tomorrow night? Or what about right now? You haven’t had dinner yet, have you?”

“How would you know that?”

“I’ve been waiting out here since you said we could talk.”

“That was hours ago.”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to risk leaving and missing you.” He jams his hands in his pockets. “We could go to that diner you like with the shakes and the onion rings. Or if you want, we could go somewhere else. What are you hungry for? We could go somewhere nice if you’re up for it.”

“You know, a big greasy burger sounds perfect.” I haven’t eaten much today, my stomach in knots over this craziness. Also, my outfit isn’t nice-restaurant appropriate.

“Okay, greasy burger it is.”

Griffin helps me into the car. I don’t have a change of clothes, so I’m stuck in my STW uniform of short shorts and a white tank through which my bra is visible. He apologizes another five hundred times—it’s more like two or three, but he’s pretty insistent about how sorry he is.

“Look, I appreciate your dedication to letting me know how remorseful you are, but I think it’ll be easier to move on if we just let it go after tonight.”