At home, I permitted that sadness to creep in. I replayed the years with Elliott. Tears came. My heart wasn’t fully repaired. I thought of my daddy and how he had allowed me to have sips of every wine he tasted and how I was nearly tipsy when I left Bouley. But joyful. I had floated through the streets of New York. Our best memories are often tinged with both happiness and sadness. In the end, we choose to focus on one. I was ready to choose happiness.

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Six

I met Griffin the next morning while holding my head. “In addition to being Mac Whitney’s sister, Annabel can drink anyone under the table,” he announced, handing me a mug and two Tylenols.

“Thanks for the heads up. That girl can drink. Where were you, my alcohol police?” The mug had water in it, and I swallowed the Tylenol. “Coffee, please.”

“I’m an owner first. Hell, Annabel picked up the entire tab on your little drinking foray.” Griffin handed me a plate of eggs and toast. Sans tarragon. “Here, this should help.” He sat down across from me and began writing checks.

“I told you before you’re not writing anybody a single check,” I said, scarfing down some of Henry’s brioche and feeling better already.

“Well if you’re going to walk around like that … I’m not impervious to you, Bae.”

I looked down at my T-shirt, “You still really want me like that? Even after all these years?”

“I’ll say it again, Bae. Always did. Always have. Always will.” Griffin smiled handing me another third of my design fee.

It was more money than I’d seen in a long time, especially during those later months when I worked for Elliott in the restaurant for free. “Do you want me to pay you rent?”

“And negative on the rent. You are earning your money fair and square.”

“Wait. You and Henry have saved me by giving me a job,” I started. He walked over to me so closely I could hear him breathe. So closely I could see the kiss of freckles on his nose. So closely I could smell that he had freshly showered and shaved.

“You kind of demanded we offer you the job.” Griffin was serious. He continued, “Henry and I did not save you. With your résumé and your talent, you would’ve gotten on your feet. Mac hired you. If anyone saved you, it was you. It was your talent, your vision, and your hard work that saved you. You need to believe that.” I did. But it was nice to hear him say it. He stepped back. As if the seismic truth of it all needed to land on me and me alone.