BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (66)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Chapter Twenty-One
  25. Chapter Twenty-Two
  26. Chapter Twenty-Three
  27. Chapter Twenty-Four
  28. Chapter Twenty-Five
  29. Chapter Twenty-Six
  30. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  31. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  32. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  33. Chapter Thirty
  34. Chapter Thirty-One
  35. Chapter Thirty-Two
  36. Chapter Thirty-Three
  37. Chapter Thirty-Four
  38. Chapter Thirty-Five
  39. Chapter Thirty-Six
  40. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  41. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  42. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  43. Chapter Forty
  44. Chapter Forty-One
  45. Chapter Forty-Two
  46. Chapter Forty-Three
  47. Chapter Forty-Four
  48. Chapter Forty-Five
  49. Chapter Forty-Six
  50. Chapter Forty-Seven
  51. Chapter Forty-Eight
  52. Chapter Forty-Nine
  53. Chapter Fifty
  54. Chapter Fifty-One
  55. Chapter Fifty-Two
  56. Chapter Fifty-Three
  57. Chapter Fifty-Four
  58. Chapter Fifty-Five
  59. Chapter Fifty-Six
  60. Chapter Fifty-Seven
  61. Chapter Fifty-Eight
  62. Chapter Fifty-Nine
  63. Chapter Sixty
  64. Chapter Sixty-One
  65. Chapter Sixty-Two
  66. Acknowledgments

I sat back down and took a bite of eggs. My emotions felt like the eggs: scrambled. “I can’t. I’m flying home this afternoon late. Can you drop me off at the airport?” I hated to ask. His generosity seemed more than enough. And there it was. The reason Griffin didn’t go to Italy. Me.

Griffin took me to the airport. I didn’t trust my emotions to speak. We were quiet except for the occasional exchange about Henry and Hank. The silence was deafening. My thoughts bled out onto the floorboard. Unspoken conversations darted back and forth between us, bypassing our lips but hitting my heart. Physically, I felt like I was having some sort of attack. When we pulled up to the curb, Griffin put the car in park. My heart was having a hard time maneuvering itself out of the car. It was as if it knew when I left it would break into a thousand irretrievable pieces. I wondered what Griffin, my Rubik’s Cube of emotion, was thinking. Finally, I managed to extricate myself. When I was almost out of the car, Griffin leaned over and grabbed my hand.

“Wait,” he said. I turned around, wanting to hear something, anything.

“Yes?” Was all I could muster. A moment passed. And then another.

“Hey, Bae,” he paused. “Call me and let me know you got back safe and sound.” That was it. Nothing more. I nodded and escaped inside. I turned around not sure where I wanted to go. Griffin’s car was still parked. Options flew around in my head. I closed my eyes sending up a silent prayer. After another moment I looked out. Griffin was gone.

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Once I landed in New York, I headed back to my apartment. I told myself it was late. That I needed to do laundry. That I needed to start work on the exciting new project I had just landed for Gabriel Modare, the Brazilian businessman who wanted to get into the restaurant business. He was handsome, rich, and ambitious, and he wanted my talent. When doing a project, I could count on one hand the number of times a client boasted that money was no object. But if I had been honest with myself, neither work nor laundry was the real reason I needed to be alone. I needed to let my feelings calm down, to be in repose before seeing Elliott. I took the coward’s way out and texted Griffin, not trusting myself with any other contact. He texted me back just as formally and stilted. Only distance proved a salve.