“I know about your love affair with Bouley, but I’ll ask you the same question I asked Griffin. What would the readers be surprised to know about you?” I took my sweet time with the answer. Griffin waited with anticipation.

“I have a tattoo.” I smiled. Take that Griffin. His eyes about leapt out of his head.

“Since when?” Griffin asked. Even Annabel looked intrigued. No doubt she assumed Griffin knew the unabridged version of my anatomy.

“What is it? Where is it?” Annabel asked.

“That’s on a need-to-know basis. If I’m not going to divulge my vintage stores, I’m sure as hell not going to tell you where my tattoo is!” I looked up at Griffin, who was mentally surveying every inch of my body undressed. His eyes stopped and clouded. He had not seen me naked since Martha’s Vineyard, before I married Elliott. For all he knew, I could have “Elliott” emblazoned across my ass like the teenagers have “Juicy” across theirs.

“Kids, I could visit with y’all all day, except we know I’ll probably see you later perched at the bar,” Annabel said, gathering up her things. “I’ve got to get this all down while it’s still fresh,” she said as she left.

Griffin grabbed me and held my gaze. “Where?”

“Mystery is a good thing in a relationship, don’t you agree? I’m meeting Lea to look at potential office space. Do you think she might reveal her secret that she and my brother are dating?” I said, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

“I’m not letting this go, Bae. And if Lea does say anything, try and act surprised,” Griffin released me. “You and I both know how fast ‘Eye Candy’ works. It ain’t just in the kitchen.”

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-One

About two weeks later, Griffin returned home after his marketing expedition. Typically, he went straight to work. His unexpected presence filled me with dread. “What’s the matter? Is it Henry?” I had become accustomed to bad things happening.

“Nothing’s wrong, Bae. Annabel’s article and review of the restaurant is out on newsstands. I wanted to share it with you before anyone else.” He did not approach me. Nor did he scoop me up in his arms in congratulations. He stayed put, not coming near me. Had I poisoned Henry and Griffin’s winning streak? Had my bad choices and bad luck tarnished them? My lungs constricted even though I fought desperately to breathe.

“Before we look at it, show me your tattoo,” Griffin said.

“Really? You’re holding the magazine hostage so you can take a peek at my lady parts?” I asked.

“Well, it has been a really long winter. I just need to know if I’m going to be looking at Elliott’s name for the rest of my life,” he said. I figured.