7. Griffin

7

GRIFFIN

TWO MONTHS LATER

R ain pelts my shoulders as I dash from my truck to the covered stairs leading to Jordana’s apartment. I keep one hand behind my back, protecting the small gift box from the rain. The thought of seeing her has my pulse kicking up, just like it always does. Two months of being with my girl, and she still has this effect on me.

When I knock, her voice carries through the door. “Come on in, Griffin! I’m just finishing up.”

I let myself into her apartment, the familiar scent of lavender wrapping around me. The space feels different these days—warmer, more like home. As I pass her fridge, my eyes catch on the collection of photos she’s put on display there. The surface is covered with pictures of us from the past two months: Jordana leaning into me as we sit on the dock, us kissing in the middle of a field of wildflowers, us lying in the bed of my truck watching the stars from the mountain. The sight of these captured moments of happiness settles deep in my chest.

“Hey, handsome.” Jordana emerges from her bedroom, putting on delicate silver earrings. The chambray romper she wears hugs every perfect curve, making my mouth go dry. She crosses to me quickly, rising onto her toes to press a soft kiss to my lips. “How’s my outfit for movie night?”

I run my free hand down her side, savoring the way she leans into my touch. “Almost perfect. But it’s missing something.”

Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

I reveal the gift box from behind my back.

“Griffin.” She takes it with careful hands, eyes bright with curiosity. “What’s this for?”

“Just because.”

She lifts the lid and goes still. The pale blue crystal pendant on the necklace catches the light, sending tiny rainbows dancing across her skin.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.

“I saw it months ago, when I got your suncatcher fixed. Couldn’t get it out of my head.” I clear my throat. “Kind of like you.”

Her eyes lift to mine, full of warmth. “Help me put it on?”

I take the necklace and step behind her. The scent of her shampoo fills my lungs as I brush her hair aside, exposing the pretty curve of her neck. My fingers brush her skin as I fasten the clasp, and she smiles, letting out a soft happy sigh under her breath. When she turns to face me, the necklace settles perfectly against her collarbone, like it was made for her.

“Thank you so much, Griffin. I love it.” She rises up to kiss me again, slower this time, her body pressing against mine. Heat builds between us as her tongue traces my lower lip. My hands find her gorgeously wide hips, pulling her closer.

She breaks away with a breathless laugh. “We better go, or we’ll be late.”

I glance at the window, where rain streams down the glass. “It’s coming down even harder now. Maybe we should stay in.” My thumb traces circles on her hip. “Find other ways to pass the time.”

“Nice try.” She steps back, but her eyes sparkle with promise. “You’re not getting out of our plans that easily. Let me grab an umbrella.”

We hurry from her apartment toward Fairhope’s historic movie theater, huddled close under her umbrella. Her hand stays nestled into mine as we navigate puddle-strewn sidewalks. String lights glow through the rain, casting halos in the misty air.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen these movies,” she says, excitement threading through her voice. “They’re classics.”

“Romance isn’t usually my genre.” I pull her away from a deep puddle, tucking her closer to my side. “But I trust your taste.”

“Just promise me you’ll be honest if you don’t like them.”

“Deal.” I catch her as she slips a little on the slick sidewalk. “Careful, beautiful.”

Her gorgeous smile hits me square in the chest. Sometimes I still can’t believe this is real—that this amazing woman chose me, believes in me, loves me. Meeting her changed everything. Not just how the town sees me, though that’s different too, now. The suspicious glances have faded, replaced by friendly nods or simple indifference. But more importantly, I’ve changed. The weight of their judgment doesn’t press on me like it used to. The only opinion that matters to me now is Jordana’s.

We reach the theater, where a line of people huddle under the marquee’s shelter. As we take our place in line, the man in front of us turns—and my good mood evaporates. Trey’s expression sours when he spots us.

“Still dating the mountain man, Jordana?” he says, his voice thick with disdain. “How...charitable of you.”

My jaw tightens. “Got something to say to me, Whitcomb?”

He squares his shoulders, though I notice him take a half step back. “Just that sooner or later, people are going to see the real you. You can’t fool everyone forever.”

Trey glances around, clearly expecting support from others. Instead, the nearest couple exchanges an eye roll.

Trey’s face reddens. “This line is taking forever,” he mutters, turning away. Annoyed, he steps aside to peer up the line—and lands his foot squarely in a deep puddle. Brown water splashes up his expensive pants.

“Oh look, the line’s moving now,” Jordana says brightly, tugging me forward.

Soon we’re settled in plush seats, armed with popcorn and chocolate-covered raisins to share. The scent of butter and salt fills the air as the lights dim. Jordana leans over to me, her lips brushing my ear.

“I love you,” she whispers.

My heart swells. “I love you too.” The words come easily, as natural as breathing.

Then the movie screen flickers to life, and the love story begins.