Reluctantly Yours(107)

“A designer. Bridal gowns.”

“Did you design that?” He points to my dress.

“No. This is my mom’s wedding dress. It’s vintage Dior.”

“Dee who?”

“Dior. The designer.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know much about fashion.”

“That’s okay.”

“So, New York, huh?”

“Have you been?”

“No. I’ve barely been out of Nevada.” He runs a hand through his hair and I’m captivated by the visual of his biceps flexing against his sleeve. “Never been on a plane.”

“Really?” My surprise is evident, my tone borderline condescending. Griffin laughs out of his nose. I can tell he’s embarrassed.

I have to remember that not everyone grew up with a runway model mom and a dad who was a professional photographer. Their careers took us all over the world. I’d been to nine different countries before I was nine years old.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Instinctively my hand reaches for Griffin’s arm in a comforting gesture. It’s meant to be a reassuring gesture, but when my fingers meet his warm skin, feel the firm cords of muscle flex beneath them, my entire body starts to tingle with need.

I’m a nurturer by nature. That’s probably why Alec stayed even when he realized we weren’t right for each other. He liked being taken care of, his needs met and put first. He liked to brag to his friends that I was a chill, low maintenance girlfriend. That it didn’t take much to make me happy. I was always proud that I wasn’t the needy girlfriend that he said his dating friends complained about, but that badge of honor made it hard for me to tell Alec what I needed from him. And when low maintenance turned into no maintenance, I felt like I was painted into a corner. After giving and giving, Alec had been shocked by my ‘sudden’ demand for more attention and care in our relationship.

I’d simply ask for Alec to show more affection when we were out to dinner or at an event. He said he wasn’t into PDA. I’d argue that PDA and sweet gestures that acknowledge my presence are two different things. It’s clear now, from the message he left earlier, that he really just wasn’t into me.

When Griffin’s eyes lift from my hand to my face, I immediately pull my hand away.

“Sorry. I’m a handsy person.” I realize how weird that sounds. “I gesture with my hands and touch people a lot.” Not much better of an explanation. Griffin’s eyebrows shoot up, but the rest of his face is unreadable. If his skin is tingling from our interaction, he’s much better at hiding it than I am.

“It’s fine.” He turns his gaze back out to the city. “Everything that matters to me has always been right here.”

He says it so reverently, I have to wonder if he’s talking about a woman, someone he cares deeply for. The loving look on his face has my ribs tightening with jealousy, which is absurd because I just met this man and have absolutely no claim to him. A few hours ago, I was hoping that Alec would propose to me tonight. Now, that thought feels as absurd as me having jealous feelings over a man I’ve known for five minutes.

“That’s a shitty thing to do.” He says.

“What?”

“Break up with someone over the phone.”

“It was a voicemail, so technically he didn’t even talk to me.”

Griffin shakes his head. “That’s fucked up.”

I shrug, not wanting his words to penetrate the champagne fog I’ve been operating under for the past few hours. “But I’m here now. Having fun.”

My phone rings. It’s Jess.

“Where are you? The shows going to start in a few minutes.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.” I drop my phone back in my clutch.

Griffin glances at his watch.

“Shit. I’ve got to go.”

We make our way over to the door and I wait while Griffin unlocks it.

I hesitate. Would asking what he’s doing later be too forward? It is my night. I should be celebrating the success of my new line’s launch. And then there’s the fact that it’s my birthday and I’m newly single. Griffin seems like a nice guy. The kind of guy I could have a little fun with. Before I can get the words out, he turns to say goodbye.

“Have a good night, Emma,” his deep voice is smooth, like a caress.

“You, too.” I finally call out when he’s at the bottom of the stairs, but he doesn’t look back.

On my way back into the theater, I try to muster up the enthusiasm I previously had for the show. No matter how hard I try, as I walk through the lobby, my head is on a swivel looking for Griffin. Maybe he’s one of the doormen and was taking a break on the roof? Maybe he’s into half naked men and he’s here to watch the show? Could he be gay? Oh, no. Maybe I’ve been out of the dating scene for so long my ability to tell a straight man from a gay man has failed me.

After weaving through the tables, I make it back to our table where Jess is waiting with our drinks.

“Geez, I thought you’d ditched me.” She hands me a flute of champagne, but I’m still buzzing from my interaction with Griffin.

The theater lights dim and a loud techno beat starts, drawing our attention to the stage in front of us.