Here With You (A Laurel Heights Novel)

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.

She took it out and flipped through it, trying to see the designs objectively. Only it was hard to see anything beyond the fear that gripped her throat.

She swallowed it down and put the sketchpad away. There was no way she could be a lingerie designer. She had no training, she just knew what she liked—it was crazy even to think about it.

Just as crazy as believing she could keep a world-renowned rock star happy when she wasn’t even sure what made her happy.