“I’ll be back in a few days and we’ll sort it out. I have a little money in savings. But not enough.”

“I need money now.”

“Not this very second. Let me work on it. Maybe I can fly home tomorrow. Just calm down. We’ll figure this out.”

“And my back has been cramping like a mother. Fuck Bailey, I need more than your piddly little savings.”

His tone and his comments jolted me. “Elliott, you should just take some of your medicine and call it a day. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“I just need to talk to you right now, baby.” For the next forty-five minutes, until my battery died, I listened to him rant about his dad, his wretched wife, his bad back, and his bad luck. All the while, I drained my wine glass dry.

It was close to midnight when I got off the phone, and when I opened my door, I noticed Griffin had already gone to bed. I decided to open up another bottle of wine and get on my computer to see if I could fly back the next day.

I woke up hungover. Griffin met me with a cup of coffee. “Thought you might need this. It sounded like the rest of your night didn’t go so well. Maybe you need some toast and eggs.”

I proceeded to tell him about the stove and all of Elliott’s troubles.

“Elliott has a wife?” That was the one fact that Griffin seized on.

“Had a wife. They’re divorced now. That’s part of the problem.”

He disappeared into his bedroom before reemerging, saying, “Come sit with me while I fix you some breakfast.”

When he placed the plate of food in front of me, he also put a check by my plate. It was made out to me. It was for the amount of the stove.

“I can’t take this, Griffin.” Then the realization hit me, and I almost stood upright. “No. This is your Italy money. I can’t take your Italy money.”

“That boy is a great cook. He needs a great stove. It’s made out to you. Call it a belated Christmas present. Or your design fee—unless you’ve blown way past that. And no, it is not my Italy money.” He tried to laugh.

“You’re a damn liar, Griffin Hardwick.” We both knew the truth. He opened up the palm of my hand and let the check rest gently before he carefully closed my hand. We just stared at each other for a few minutes. It was the most intimate moment we had had during these three weeks. Tears filled my eyes.

“No tears. We’re all good here. Really. What do you want to do today? Want to join me at VERT?”