Before I can utter a word, Griffin slaps a hand down on the kitchen island to get my attention. “You ready to go?” he asks me. I don’t know if ending the night right now is an out for me, or if it’s what I’m supposed to do or what Magnolia wants. Griffin locks his eyes with mine and I have never wanted to be a telepath more in my life. He isn’t giving me shit, just waiting for an answer.
“You need help?” I offer the only thing I can think, raising my voice to Magnolia so she can hear it over the running water.
Her motions stop and she looks over her shoulder toward me with a dish in hand. When she shakes her head, her wavy blond locks flow down her shoulders. Her blue eyes don’t give anything away at all.
“Let me show you out.” Leaving the dishwasher open, half-full with the rest of the plates in the sink, Magnolia leads us to the door. Not before offering me a cupcake, though, which Griffin takes two of. He’s the one with the sweet tooth, so no doubt he’ll eat both of them.
My heart pounds and adrenaline races through me as we walk to the door. I can’t help but feel like this has changed everything, and I hope she feels it too. The intensity, but not the pressure for it to go perfectly.
“I had a great time,” I tell her as she opens the door.
“See you later, little lady,” Griffin comments and Renee jokes back. Something about which one; I can barely hear their conversation as Magnolia plants a quick kiss on my lips.
Far too quick. It was all far too fast. I wish I could go back and live it all over again.
The tension thickens quickly as she backs away and widens the door. The nervous prick at the back of my neck wants me to go to her and not leave, but it’s ended far too abruptly. Griffin’s tone is upbeat and light as he bids her farewell. “Thanks for dinner, Mags.”
“Have a good night, guys … I’ll talk to you soon?” she asks me like it isn’t a given.
“I’ll text you when we get home.”
The second the door is closed, I can’t hold it in any longer. “There’s no doubt in my mind that little girl is mine,” I confess to him just beneath my breath. The crickets chirp around us and the sky’s turned black. Speaking the words out loud is what does it. My gaze is hot compared to the warm night, the back of my eyes itching and when Griffin asks me what I’ve said, I hurry my ass down the steps to my truck. I don’t answer him until he asks again as I turn the engine over while he buckles his seatbelt.
“Nothing important,” I answer him and stare up at her door. “I don’t remember what I said,” I lie to him, to keep from crying. He asks me if I’m all right and I shake it off then ask him to turn on the radio.
Robert
“I don’t know what you were thinking.” My father’s voice drones on from behind his desk. I can barely focus on him and his tirade. The deep ache that’s etched into my chest refuses to leave. There’s no soothing it, only distractions. It’s just as it was years ago, back when I lost her the first time.
My father’s back is to me as he stares out of the large paned window in his office. Turning to look over his shoulder, he shakes his head in disappointment and then his brow furrows, his attention taken by something in the backyard. The dogs, most likely.
“Marriage,” he scoffs. The knife digs in deeper. There’s no doubt now it wasn’t just time that Magnolia needed. Swallowing thickly, I rid myself of the image of Brody and the way he looks at her … and the way she stares back at him.
Breathing in deep, I catch a hint of the tobacco that creeps from the humidor in the corner of his old office. “Seriously, Robert—” he continues and I lean back in the wingback chair. My thumb runs over a crack in the curved armrest as I interrupt him and say, “I was thinking I’d like her to marry me.”
That gets my father’s attention and earns me a stern, narrow gaze that eases just as quickly as it came. As I feel a sickening chill from the memory of the last time I sat in this office, suggesting she marry me, the color drains from my father’s face.
He may be a hard old man, but he knows what she means to me. Or at least I thought he did until he called this meeting.
“It wasn’t a good look—”
“I don’t care how it looked.” It was worth it. Anything I can do to hold on to her is worth it. However it looks, and however painful it is for her to turn me down.