Here With You (18 page)

"You were
engaged
?" she repeated, sounding shrill to her own ears. "For how long?"

"It doesn't matter—"

"Of course it matters." Pulling away, she sat up on her knees. "You loved her enough
to
propose
to her. How does that not matter? That's huge. You don't just propose to someone.
You obviously thought you could spend the rest of your life with her."

"I broke up with her, Nicole," he said, sitting up. "I obviously didn't believe it'd
work."

"You broke up with her and then came here to see me." She crossed her arms, glaring.
"
So what does that make
me
?
T
he other woman
?
The rebound? None of these answers are good.
"

He reached for her. "Nic—"

"No." She scrambled away from him. "Marriage is forever. You yourself said you wanted
what your parents have. You must have thought you'd get it with Inga."

"I was wrong." He held his hand out, his gaze steady on her. "Just hear me out, okay?"

She glared at him, waiting.

Exhaling, he brushed his hair back. "I thought Inga was everything I could want, but
there were things that were seriously missing. Intimacy, for one. And she didn't understand
why I'd want to tour instead of follow her around and serenade her. In the end, she
was a blip on the radar. This is just a publicity ploy by my manager and Inga."

She nodded stiffly. "Is my name going to end up in the magazines, too?"

He shook his head. "No."

"
Does that make what happened between us more real, or less true? Because it seems
like maybe
this
is
a blip on the radar.
"

"No." He stood up. "
You're not like that, Nic.
"

"
What am I then? You said you
were going to leave, so how am I any different?" Except that she didn't rate a proposal.

That hurt—way more than she'd thought it would.

Grif stepped toward her. "
I want you to come with me.
"

"You didn't want to tag along and follow Inga all over the world, but you're asking
me to do the same thing? How does that make sense? And what would I do? B
e the dependent girlfriend? Or worse
,
the chick who's having sex with the star without any promise of anything
?"

"You're free, Nicole. There's nothing holding you here."

"What about my job?"

"What about your designs?"

"Not this again."

"Yes, this again." He frowned. "Maybe it's time you did something you actually cared
about."

"I care about Romantic Notions."

"But it's not yours." He grabbed his jeans off the floor and pulled them up. "You
have a real talent for designing. I may not know anything about fashion, but I can
tell when something's good, and yours are amazing. It's up your alley, too. You love
romance. But you aren't going to go for it. You're going to let the real thing pass
you by, because you're scared to do it."

"I am not," she said tightly, even as part of her knew he was right.

He tugged his T-shirt over his head. "You're scared to go for that, and you're scared
to go for us. Because whatever you think this is about, it's only about the fact that
you aren't willing to give us a chance."

She
yanked her robe off the hook on her door. "I
knew nothing
good would
could come from th
is
fling.
"

He paused, staring at her. The hurt in his eyes stung her heart. "See, Nicole, that's
where we're different. This was never a fling to me. This was as real as it gets.
To me, this was love."

She froze,
barely
able to
breathe.

He lifted the necklace from his neck and set it on her bedside table. Without a word
he strode from her room.

S
he watche
d
him
leave, and then she stared at the arrowhead she'd given him so long ago and knew
she'
d
lost her best friend forever.

Chapter Twenty-one

The first thing Nicole thought when she opened her eyes in the morning was that something
was wrong.

It could have been because of her queasy stomach or throbbing head. She slowly eased
her feet onto the floor, holding her forehead to keep her brains from sloshing around.

Then it all came back to her. The fantastic sex. The rumors of Grif's engagement.
The argument. Grif leaving, and the subsequent night of debauchery Susan had insisted
on, involving way too much wine.

Nicole looked at the bedside table. The arrowhead she'd given him lay there. Any vague
hope she'd had that last night was all a dream vanished in a poof.

But maybe he'd come back. She slipped it over her head and stumbled out of her room
to the living room.

It was pristine. No one sleeping on the couch, no pile of random hats and sunglasses,
no guitar tucked in the corner.

He was gone.

She deflated.

Susan walked out of the kitchen, her hand outstretched with a steaming cup. "You look
like how I feel. Why did I think all that wine was a good idea?"

"He's really gone," Nicole said out loud, taking the cup her roommate pushed into
her hands. She absently sipped the coffee, not caring when her tongue burned.

"You wanted him gone, remember?" Susan curled into a corner of the couch, her feet
tucked under her. "Last night, you were all 'To hell with him and his supermodel slut!'"

She winced. "Are you sure I said that?"

"Yep." Susan smiled faintly, cuddling her own mug to her chest. "You were on a roll.
If he were here, I think you'd have punched him in the face."

"He proposed to her." She sank onto the couch and dropped her head back as all the
emotions came back to her.

"I don't know if I should be saying this now, but maybe you're overreacting about
the whole engagement thing."

"No, I'm not." She managed enough energy to glare at her roommate. "You don't propose
to someone randomly, not unless you think you want to be with them forever."

"Not everyone has the same view of marriage as you do."

"Grif does. We talked about it." She dropped her head in her hands. "He asked me to
go with him."

"
What?
" Susan gaped. "You never mentioned that."

"Because of course I wasn't going to go. But that's not the point."

"What's the point?"

"He didn't want to marry
me
. He just asked me to tag along with him, since I wasn't doing anything important
here anyway."

"He said that?" Susan asked, sounding skeptical.

"Pretty much."

"Are you sure?"

She frowned at her roommate. "Whose side are you on?"

"Yours, which is why I'm going to say this." Susan pointed at her. "You like him,
the kind of like that leads to the happy ever after you've always dreamed of. And
whatever he said or has done, he likes you the same way. If you let him go, you'll
regret it."

"But he doesn't—"

"Then make him." Throwing her arms in the air, Susan stood up. "Go after him. Tell
him he's being an idiot. Sometimes the hero needs to be saved, Nicole."

She blinked at her roommate. "Beauty saved the beast."

"Exactly. So do it."

Nicole watched Susan stride out of the room, still mumbling to herself. She stayed
on the couch, thinking about what her roommate had said.

Did Grif need to be saved?

She shook her head. She couldn't think about this now—she needed to get ready for
work.

Going through the motions, she showered and dressed, feeling less like she was run
over by a truck. A couple ibuprofen and her red boots and she was ready to face the
world.

Mostly.

She considered stopping at Grounds for Thought for a doubly-fortifying dose of caffeine
and a chocolate croissant, but she didn't want to run into anyone and have to explain
why her eyes were so bloodshot, so she went directly to work.

Thankfully, it was a typically slow morning. Grateful for Olivia's foresight in installing
a chime to announce customers, Nicole went to lie down on the floor in the largest
dressing room, knowing she'd hear if someone came in.

She was on the floor with her arm over her eyes when her phone rang. It was her mom,
based on the ringtone. She jumped to answer it. "Mom?"

There was a pause. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Tears came to her eyes. "Did you talk to Mrs. Chase?"

"No, I was just calling to say hi, but I can hear it in your voice."

"Grif left." She pinched the bridge of her nose to keep the tears in.

"What happened? Did he finish his song?"

"We had an argument."

"Was it about the reports of his engagement in the papers?"

"You saw those?"

Her mother chuckled. "The entire world saw them. Lottie was upset about it. She must
be the only mother in the world who wasn't looking forward to a supermodel daughter-in-law.
She came over on a rampage."

Nicole cracked a smile at that. She could see it. "Remember the time Grif's seventh
grade English teacher gave him a C on a creative essay for not following directions,
and she went to school and ripped the teacher a new one?"

Her mom laughed. "She's protective of her boy. But even she's upset with him over
this. I told her I didn't think the rumors were true. Grif wouldn't lead you on that
way."

"The rumors aren't true right now, but they were a year ago." She pouted, feeling
her heart wither. "Mom, do you think marriage is forever?"

"It depends on the people, sweetheart."

"For me?"

"Are you getting married and I didn't know it?"

"Not apparently."

"Nicole—" Her mom paused. "Nicole, I always thought you and Griffin would find your
way to each other eventually. We were all surprised that you didn't date in high school.
You two connect in a way that's rare. I don't really know what you two argued about,
but just think about if it was worth a life without him."

"I've spent the past nine years without him."

"Yes, but he came back to you."

The door signaled someone coming in. Nicole sat up and heaved herself off the floor.
"I've got a customer, Mom."

"Think about it, sweetheart. I love you."

"Love you, too," she said as she ended the call and stepped into the store. She'd
expected to see a customer, but Bull stood at a table, holding up a crimson merrywidow.

"I need to find a woman to buy this for." Grinning, he held it up to himself, but
then his grin faded into a frown and he lowered his hands. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "I didn't think I looked that bad."

"You do." He tossed the merrywidow on the table. "It doesn't help that it looks like
a funeral home in here, with all the flowers."

"It's out of control, isn't it?" But part of her loved all the flowers Grif had sent
her, especially now that Julie had stopped bringing them around.

Bull charged toward her. Anyone else might have been intimidated by his bulk coming
at her like that, but Nicole knew he was a big softie. He stood before her, his hands
on his hips, looking fierce. "I love Griffin Chase's music, but give me the word and
I'll break all his fingers."

"You're sweet." She patted his chest reassuringly and got on her tiptoes to kiss his
cheek. "It's okay though. It was a losing proposition anyway."

"Why?"

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Why was it a losing proposition?" He scowled. "Didn't you like him?"

"Stop looking at me like that." She frowned at him. "If that's the look you give your
opponents, it's a wonder they don't pee their pants before you fight."

His eyes narrowed. "You're avoiding my question."

She threw her arms in the air. "Yes, I like him. Satisfied?"

"I'm not the one who looks like she went on a bender because someone stole her teddy
bear," he retorted.

"My teddy bear walked away of his own accord," she threw back at him.

"What'd you do?"

She blinked. "Why did I have to do something?"

"Because the man looked at you like you were his world. If he left, it's because you
pushed him away."

"He didn't try to push back."

Bull rolled his eyes. "Men are knuckleheads. Don't you women learn that early in life?"

Susan's words echoed in her head:
Sometimes the hero needs to be saved.

Did Grif need to be saved?

It was why he came to her, wasn't it?

She
stood up like she was jolted
.
It was why he came to her.

"I've gotta go. I'm supposed to meet E and Valentine. Your friend had some ideas about
how I can market and sell my smoothies." He patted her on the head. "Don't be an idiot."

"Words to live by," she said dryly.

"Dude." He winked at her. As he turned to leave, he stopped and stared at the merrywidow
he'd admired. He pointed at it. "Wrap one of these up for me. I want the largest size
you've got. The panties, too."

"I thought you didn't have a girlfriend."

"I don't," he said as he took his wallet out. "But now I have a goal. To find a woman
to wear that for me."

Shaking her head, she found him the largest size and rang him up nonetheless. He'd
do it, too—she had no doubt. She didn't know him well, but she could tell he was the
sort of person who went after what he wanted.

She always thought she was the same type of person.

The problem was she didn't know what she wanted.

She shook her head. That wasn't true—she wanted Grif. But she wanted him in a way
that'd work. Following him around like a lovesick groupie wasn't going to cut it even
in the short term.

Her gaze fell to the sketchpad she kept behind the counter. Grif hadn't understood
why she didn't become a designer.