Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“Come on, come on, come on,” I chant, hoping I can cheer it into compliance.
Instead, there’s a ding of doom as though the call button outside has been pushed again, and the doors slide open to reveal the security guard. He’s standing with his hands on his hips despite not having a weapon, his feet planted firmly, and a sour frown on his face. “Come with me.”
Sighing, I stomp back toward the desk, feeling like the moment is particularly anticlimactic when the guard points at a chair and returns to his desk duty station. The least he could do is put me in handcuffs like I’m a threat.
I plop into the chair, my legs askew, my arms crossed over my chest, and my mouth downturned in a pout. “Now what, Paul Blart?”
The security guard arches a brow, obviously not pleased with the uncomplimentary comparison. I hear the tones of him pushing buttons on the phone as he dials. When the call connects, I hear Griffin’s gruff hello before the guard launches into a completely inaccurate retelling of the last five minutes. “I’ve got a woman down here who claims to know you and is trying to come up without permission. She made a run for the elevator, but I stopped her. You want me to call the police?”
“Five three, brunette, probably glaring at you right this second?” Griffin says, which is nothing more than a lucky guess.
“Griffin, tell this guy to stop heart-blocking me!” I shout in the general vicinity of the phone. Quiet enough that Griffin won’t hear, I explain to the guard, “It’s like cockblocking, but with the heart.”
“Send her up,” Griffin clips out before hanging up with a sharp click.
I stand up to my full height, trying my best to look righteous. “See? I told you he’d want to see me,” I tell the guard snottily. He sighs heavily as I do my best to strut back to the elevator. The effect is only slightly squashed by the squeak of my tennis shoes. At least, this time, when I push the button for the tenth floor, the doors close and I begin the expected whoosh into the air.
When the doors open, I take a deep breath before heading toward Griffin’s condo. When I turn the corner, he’s already waiting on me, his back leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, and his mouth firmly set in a hard line. The purple bruising beneath his eyes only highlights the anger in them. “What are you doing here, Pen?”
“I came for an apology,” I inform him primly.
Rolling his eyes, he huffs, “Fine. I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the guys following you, I’m sorry for not telling you what I suspected about their boss, I’m sorry for talking to Conniver without clearing it with you first, I’m sorry for busting into your lunch with him today, I’m sorry for . . . everything.” By the end, he sounds gutted and essentially sorry for his own existence.
And I’m the one that’s made him feel that way.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. But then I reconsider. “Okay, yes to some of that. But I’m not here for you to apologize to me. I’m here to apologize to you.” The surprise on Griffin’s face hurts my heart. “I’m sorry for taking my fear out on you. I’m sorry for making you feel like you’re not enough. You are, Griffin. You’re amazing, and I think I understand why you did what you did.”
“Could you explain it to me, then, because I feel like I’m always fucking up at every turn?” He forces out a small chuckle, but it’s a front, a way to try to hide the negativity he’s heard so many times before that he’s internalized it, now hearing it from the narrator in his head. His brain says that negative self-talk is wrong, but his gut says differently.
“Mr. Conniver actually did a great job of that, but Dominic’s going to claim it was his speech that got me to pull my head out of my ass.”
“We’re gonna let him keep thinking that, right?” Griffin asks, this time sounding genuinely amused.
I nod, grinning that he gets it. “Can I come in?”
He steps back from the doorway, letting me in. As he closes the door, silence reigns between us, awkwardness enveloping each of us individually. I’m trying to figure out how to right our course when we’ve gone so far astray. I think Griffin is just waiting to see what I’ll do.
Hoping that what started this in the first place can restart it, I step into him. He moves away like I might attack him, not stopping until his back is pressed to the front door.
He’s right. I am going to attack, but not the way he thinks. Because he’s also wrong. I’m not angry anymore. I’m sorry, I’m hopeful, and I really want to kiss him. I lift up to my toes, letting my hands find his chest. His heart pounds beneath my palm, beating just as fast as mine.