Making Up (Shacking Up 4)

He manages to catch the clutch before it can connect with him, which is annoying. I don’t know if I’m going to be sick or cry. Maybe both. I need to find my clothes and get out of here.

He glances from the closet to me and back again, eyes flaring. “Wait, Cosy, you need to let me explain.”

“Explain what, exactly? That you’re cheating on whoever owns these dresses? I let you inside me!” I’m totally freaking out. I think I have a right. I’m going to punch my sister in the face for this. Okay, maybe just the boob, but she’s getting punched for suggesting I give it up for this asshole.

He takes a few cautious steps toward me. “You’re not understanding. Those are for you. I’m not cheating on anyone. I would never do that. Not ever. Remember I told you I had something for you?”

“What?” I’m so confused.

“The dresses. They’re for you, and the shoes, and the purse. I wanted to surprise you with something nice for dinner tonight since I know I was vague about our plans. I thought maybe you’d want to pick a dress and some shoes, and we’d go out and . . . fuck . . . well, not literally, but then the bath happened, and dinner didn’t . . . and yeah.” He runs his hand through his hair, making it stand on end.

I thumb over my shoulder to the closet. “Those are for me?”

He nods. “Everything’s for you. The tags are still on them. Everything’s returnable. I wanted you to have options. You can check for yourself.”

I turn away—still naked—and search for the tag on the first dress. He’s not lying; it’s still attached. And the dress retails at $1500. I check the next one, it’s $2000. I grab the hanger, carefully, because I’m not ruining a two-thousand-dollar dress tonight. Who knows how much that purse cost and I just broke the strap. “What the hell, Griffin? These dresses cost more than a month’s rent.”

He approaches me with his hands raised. “Please don’t be upset. I thought it would be a fun surprise. I didn’t even look at price tags.”

“You went shopping for these?” I don’t know how to feel about that.

“I did. I wanted to do something nice. I can take everything back. I’m not a cheater, Cosy. I’ve never cheated on anyone, ever. I’m not playing you, I promise. You gave me something precious that I definitely don’t deserve, and I don’t want to do anything to make you regret it.”

I try to make sense of what he said, but I’m still naked and so is he, and I’m pretty damn confused. And now he’s closing in on my personal space, and I still don’t understand what’s going on.

“Those shoes are more than a thousand dollars a pair.” Which is absurd. Who the hell spends a thousand dollars on a pair of freaking shoes? Not this bargain shopper, that’s for sure.

“I got a deal.”

“Please tell me you’re not in the mob. Oh my God. Am I part of some crime ring now?” I turn away and grab blindly for a shirt to cover myself. I manage to snag one of his button-downs, which is preferable to the thousand-dollar dresses in his closet. I shrug into it, feeling slightly more dignified.

“I’m not part of the mob. I just have great connections because of who I work for. These are gifts. I won’t get charged for anything, so if you like something and want it, you can have it.”

“This feels a lot like Pretty Woman, except I’m being paid for my virginity.”

Griffin closes his eyes and exhales a long breath. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like?”

“I was trying to . . . impress you, I guess? Which maybe was stupid in hindsight. I have access to things other people don’t. I wanted to make you feel special. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll take care of it.”

I cross my arms. The shirt is huge, and the sleeves keep slipping down and covering my hands. “I’m not wearing a pair of shoes that costs a grand.”

“Okay. I’ll send them back.” He takes another step closer. “I’m sorry.”

I scrub my face with my hand. It smells like latex and sex. Between giving it up to Griffin, the stellar orgasms, and these extravagant gifts, I’m discombobulated. “It’s okay. I don’t think you actually have anything to be sorry for since I’m the one who overreacted.”

He erases the distance between us with one final step.

Now that I’m not freaking out, I feel like a total jerk. “I’m sorry I hit you with a shoe.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“And I think I broke that purse strap. I can pay for that.”

“Unnecessary. Besides, it can be fixed.” He brushes my hair over my shoulder.

“I jumped to a pretty awful conclusion. I feel bad about that.” I run my hands up his bare chest.