What If (If Only.... #2)(40)

Three light knocks sound on the door.

“Maggie?”

Not Griffin. That much I know. And how long have I been gone that I’m getting the worried knock?

I drop my phone in my bag and take one more long, slow breath.

Fuck it. Right, Miles. Easier said than done. But I open the door anyway, since I can’t really stay in the bathroom for the rest of time.

I open my mouth to greet her. “Hi…” Then I freeze. Here I go again.

She lays her palm on her chest. “Natalie.”

“Right. Of course. Hi, Natalie.”

“I wanted to apologize for my parents…and maybe for my little brother not quite letting you know what you’re in for. All of us at once can be a lot to take in.”

She moves aside, allowing me to step out into the hall next to her.

“No, it’s not that. I mean, you guys are all great, but it’s just…”

She gives me a knowing smile, and my shoulders relax, releasing the tension.

“Okay. Yes. It’s a lot to take in. I’m sure you can tell my appearance wasn’t a planned one.”

Natalie laughs. “We’re always up for surprises where Griffin is concerned. Whatever happened out there, it’s nothing in the grand scheme of what my little brother has done today.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“He brought you here, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you walked in the door, save for the few times you weren’t in the same room. Something’s different with him—good different. And I’m pretty sure we have you to thank for that.”

I can’t help but smile. I want to tell her that it’s the same for me, that something’s changed this past week. But saying it makes it real, and I’m pretty sure I just proved that I don’t handle real that well.

“Thank you,” I say, and leave it at that. Then I let Natalie lead me back to the dining room. Maybe the overstimulation got to me, but this I could get used to—having a sister, someone like Natalie looking out for me. I wonder if Griffin knows how lucky he is, regardless of how tough on him his father may be.

Back at the table, everyone makes a concerted effort not to stare at me this time, but it’s no use trying to play it off like nothing happened.

I take my seat next to Griffin.

“I’m one of a family of three—well, formerly three. Now we’re two. This is all new to me. I guess I need some practice in the large family setting.”

“Well, shit!” This comes from Megan. I remember Megan, the little one. “Griffin should have done a better job of warning you about us, honey. I don’t blame you for needing a few minutes to yourself.”

I smile, and Griffin chuckles. Natalie rolls her eyes.

“I’m not taking all the blame for corrupting my daughter’s vocabulary,” she says.

Soon everyone is laughing, everyone except Mr. Reed, that is.

“Maggie,” he says over the quickly fading mirth. “Tell me about this art therapy. How does that work?”

“Jesus,” Griffin says under his breath.

“You can use it for lots of different things,” I say. “There are so many ways for the creative process to explore the psyche.” If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s the therapeutic qualities of art. Griffin Reed Senior won’t trip me up here.

“So you’ll need to get your master’s, I assume, or some other higher degree to be able to practice.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Griffin’s hand finds mine under the table, and he pulls it to rest on his knee—his knee that bounces in obvious agitation.

“Do you know where you’re headed for your post-graduate degree?” Mr. Reed asks, but his eyes shift to Griffin, and I realize the conversation is no longer about me. I’m not sure if it ever was.

“No plans yet,” I say. “I’m only a junior.” I don’t mention that I’m also part-time. It doesn’t matter, not anymore.

“Well,” Mr. Reed says, “at least you sound committed to your path.” His gaze shifts to Griffin.

I squeeze his hand, and this time I’m the one reassuring him.

“The food is delicious.” I search the table, and it’s Nat again who throws me the bone.

“I can only vouch for the soufflé. Anything either of my sisters makes is questionable.”

“Hey…” The other two respond in chorus, and I look at Griffin, the only one at the table not wearing a smile, false as some of the others may be. I’m in the middle of something bigger than I anticipated. Maybe running for the safety of the bathroom wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Griffin’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing, his eyes far away, not focused on his senior counterpart across the table, not focused on anything. Then I understand what we are.

Strangers.

Foolish. That’s what it is to think I am falling for a guy I’ve known for a week.

Yet something inside me tugs, keeping my eyes trained on him until his concentration breaks, bringing him back from wherever he was. He turns to me, eyes dark, fierce—and sad.

Then they soften, resting on mine, the cacophony of female voices filling the space around us.

“Boo,” he says, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, but I shake my head.