Epoch (Transcend Duet #2)(57)
“You kissed—”
“Daisy.”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
He kissed her because he remembers everything. But that doesn’t explain why I kissed him. A million excuses plead their case in my head. Valid, reasonable, believable excuses.
“I should not have kissed you,” he says.
“Can you see if your parents can watch her today? I need to …” I swallow the pain, the thick, suffocating guilt. “I need to do something.”
He nods. “I’ll see if they can be here within the hour.”
“K.” I take her from him. “Let’s get you changed and fed.” Brushing past him, I take her back to the nursery.
A few seconds later, the back door shuts, and I break down, hugging Morgan to my body because … I lost my grocery store guy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“To what do we owe this honor?” Jett winks at me as I stomp the snow off my boots inside the front door of the dealership.
“I was hoping to catch Griffin on a break.”
“Griff never breaks, but I can probably see if he’ll make an exception for you.”
I force a smile. It hurts like hell. “Thank you.”
He nods his head toward the service department. “Follow me.”
Griffin’s at a computer. He looks up.
“Your woman wants you to take a break. The bathroom door has a lock.” Jett smirks.
Griffin doesn’t acknowledge him. Neither do I. It’s like he can see through me, like he knows what I’m going to say. I’m the girl who forgot his birthday. I’m the girl who kissed another guy. And Griffin is just the boy who fell for the wrong girl.
My chest hurts so badly it’s crushing me. I have to tell him what happened. And even though I know without a single doubt that it meant nothing to me, it’s going to mean everything to Griffin. And that’s fair, because the world’s kindest grocery store guy deserves a girl who would never let another man kiss her.
I look around, but there’s no one else in sight. Griffin shifts his weight on the stool, propping one boot up on the metal rung, hands crossed over his chest.
“You’ve never looked more miserable,” he says.
I laugh a little, fighting back the tears.
“If you’re not coming with me, then you don’t have to say anything.”
I bite my quivering lips together and blink. As soon as he sees my tears, he looks away. I close my eyes.
“Tell me about your day, Swayz.” Griffin shot me this killer grin on our third date.
We were eating dinner at his house for the first time. He baked salmon and steamed asparagus. I brought a bottle of wine and cookies that I tried to pass off as homemade, but I was pretty sure he knew they were store-bought.
It was the first time he called me Swayz. No one had ever given me a nickname before. In that moment, for the first time in my life, I didn’t hate my name.
“It was good.” I shrugged, still struggling to keep eye contact with him for more than five seconds without blushing like a schoolgirl.
“Good is a terrible description. I need details.” He took another bite of salmon and pinned me with the sexiest look.
“Details, huh? Well, nothing too exciting. I got fitted for my cap and gown—”
“No.” He shook his head. “Start from the beginning. Breakfast. What did you have for breakfast?”
“Really? You want all the details? I’m not that exciting.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
My face hurt from smiling so much. “Toast and butter. Coffee with sugar. I like a lot of sugar in my coffee. So much so I’m not sure if my jolt is from the caffeine or the sugar. Barre class. Shower—”
“Tell me more about this shower.”
I giggled with a full-on blush. “It was wet.” My hands covered my face. “Gah! I can’t do this.”
“Swayze Samuels naked and wet. I can work with that. Do you wash your hair or soap your body first?”
Shaking my head, I continued to laugh. “I can’t do this. It’s like phone sex without the phone.”
“Fine. We’ll save phone sex without the phone for after-dinner conversation. So how much sugar are we talking about? Like would you say you have coffee with sugar, or sugar with coffee?”
“Probably the latter.”
“Barre class. Are you a dancer? Please say yes.”
I giggled more. I never knew giggling was my thing until I met Grocery Store Guy.
“No. My coordination is quite challenged, but I like the burn and it’s supposed to lift my butt. I think the jury is still out on that.”
His chin jerks up. “Stand up. Let me see. I’ll happily be the judge of that.”
“You’re a total flirt.”
“Just with you.”
“Ha! I doubt that.”
Griffin gave me this look, the kind of look that came with an exaggerated pause like he needed to process something. Something new. Something unexpected.
I liked that look because unlike the casual flirting, it felt like something he hadn’t given to anyone else.
We sat at his two-person kitchen table for almost two hours, flirting, laughing, and sharing special looks.