He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “You deserve to feel like that.”
“Thank you.” She watched him closely, and he sensed she was measuring her words. “But with Ed, even while he was living with us, he wasn’t connected to us. He left us long before he drove away.”
Griffin narrowed his eyes. “What’s your point?”
“My point is that I think it’s possible that you weren’t emotionally present for Hillary and Brooke the way you are for me and Katie.” She held up her hand to silence his protest. “You weren’t there physically, either, and the combination maybe created a feeling that you had left, even if you technically still lived there.”
“I didn’t leave! I was working my ass off for them!” He pulled his hand free of hers. “You’re like them, judging me—”
“No, no, no.” She tried to take his hand again, but he didn’t let her. “I’m just trying to help you get your daughter back. Don’t you get it? You can’t just demand her back or say you love her. You have to actually feel her in your heart, the way you do with me and Katie! You did abandon them, but you don’t have to be like that anymore.” She set her hand on his shoulder. “You
are
the man you want to be, but you won’t get your daughter back until you let her into your heart. It’s not about the money, Griffin. It’s about the connection.”
Griffin glared at her. “You’re interfering where you aren’t welcome.”
Clare scowled back at him, and she took her hand off his shoulder. “So? What’s your point?”
“My point? My point is that I want you to back off. I’m done being judged.”
Clare glared at him. “Did it ever occur to you that I might be pushing at you not because I’m judging you, but because I’m tired of you judging yourself? Because I see this amazing man whose heart is breaking because he doesn’t understand how wonderful he is? For God’s sake, Griffin, not everyone who yells at you is your enemy. Some of them shout at you out of love!”
“That’s crap! You don’t yell at people you love.”
“Oh! You drive me mad!” She shoved her chair back and threw her napkin on the table. “Forget it. I can’t deal with you on top of Katie. Doesn’t anyone understand love around here? I’m trying! Doesn’t anyone get that?” Tears filled her eyes, and she whirled away and raced for the door.
Oh,
shit.
The hurt on her face told him the truth: that she did believe in him and she did think he was worthy of his daughter. Shit. He’d totally overreacted and hurt her. “Clare!” Griffin leapt up and gave chase, catching up just as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. He caught her hand. “Clare—”
She spun toward him and yanked her hand free. “Leave me alone!” Her fists were clenched, and her eyes were flashing fire, but the anguish in her voice and the tears streaming down her cheeks eviscerated him.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Clare.”
“You’re a jerk! I was just trying to help.”
“I know, I know. I’m an ass.” He held up his hands in surrender. “A complete jerk.”
She sniffled. “That’s my point. You’re not an ass. You just act like one sometimes.”
He smiled. “I know. I understand that now.” He held out his arms. “Come here.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m still mad at you.”
“And you should be.” He took her wrist and tugged her so she fell into him. He immediately wrapped her up in his arms and hugged her. Really, really hugged her. Not the reluctant, impatient hug he used to give Hillary, but the kind of embrace where their bodies meshed, and his soul wrapped around hers to protect her and keep her safe. “I’m so sorry, Clare. I really am.”
She sighed, and then she softened her body, melting into his. When she finally wrapped her arms around his waist, he knew he hadn’t blown it. Clare had forgiven him, and it felt amazing.
For a long moment, they just stood there, holding each other, and it was a perfect moment. Griffin had no urge to end it, no desire to get to work, no calling to move on, and no drive to be productive. He was content to simply hold her.
“Do you think they took away our salads?” Clare finally asked.
“I doubt it. I haven’t paid and my phone is still on the table.” He pulled back so he could look at her. Tears streaked her cheeks, and she looked exhausted. “What happened with Katie today?”
She shook her head. “Never mind. I’m too tired.”
He kissed her lightly. “That’s what I’m here for. Sometimes it doesn’t go away until you talk about it.” He took her hand. “Come on. We’ll give it a three minute limit, and then there’s no more heavy discussion tonight, okay? We’ll just discuss how beautiful you are, how great your cupcakes are—” He frowned at the flash of pain on Clare’s face “What did I say? Something about the cupcakes?”
“Nothing.” She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked, in an intimate gesture that made him want to sweep her up in his arms and cradle her.
“There’s no chance I’m going to believe you that there’s nothing wrong.” He held open the door for her. “I won’t give up until you tell me.”
“Maybe you really are a pain in the ass.” She wrinkled her nose at him.
He laughed. “Probably, but I have it on good authority that I’m still a great guy even when I’m being an ass.” He guided her across the dining room, to where the waiter was standing over their table wringing his hands. Griffin jerked his chin at him, and the waiter nodded with visible relief and vanished back into the kitchen.
Griffin pulled out Clare’s chair and helped her sit. Then he took his seat, moved it closer to hers, and then took her hand again. “Now, tell me. Cupcakes first.”
“It’s nothing.” Clare picked up her fork and fiddled with her salad. “It’s just that Astrid told me at lunch today that there is an offer on that place she thinks I should buy for a cupcake store.”
Griffin studied her. “You want to buy it?”
“No.” She finally looked at him. “No, I wasn’t going to buy it. But I felt a little sad. Like I don’t want it, but I don’t want anyone else to have it either.”
“Clare, maybe you should think about it—”
“No.” She shook her fork gently at him. “I don’t want to talk about any of this stuff anymore tonight. My life is always about dealing with one problem after another. Tonight, I want to simply be with you.” She gave him a small smile. “You take away the chaos and bring peace into my heart. I need that tonight. Can we do that?”
He cupped the back of her head and drew her close to him. “Yes, we can.” He kissed her again. Her lips were soft and welcoming, and he felt the turmoil within him cede to a feeling of peace and rightfulness. “I want it, too.”
“Okay, then.” She smiled.
He set her wine glass into her hand and picked up his own. “To the most beautiful woman in the world, who makes my life better simply by being in it.” He tapped his glass against hers. “To Clare.”
To the woman he was going to have to leave tomorrow.
* * *
“I can’t believe you blindfolded me,” Clare laughed as she heard Griffin open the door of the truck. After dinner, he’d announced he had a surprise for her, blindfolded her with a tee shirt he’d apparently brought along for that purpose, and put her in his truck. “You’re crazy.”
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if you knew where we were, would it?” He took her hand. “Step down, carefully. I’ve got you if you fall.”
“I’m not going to fall,” she teased, though she was happy to let him guide her. “I didn’t have that much wine at dinner.”
“You didn’t? Damn. I was hoping to get you drunk so I could take advantage of you later on.”
Feeling a little giddy, Clare giggled as Griffin wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her solidly against him. “I’m not that kind of girl. There will be no hanky panky tonight.” She certainly hoped that was a complete lie. To spend another night in Griffin’s arms would be a beautiful gift she would treasure forever.
“Yeah, well, we’ll stop at Norm’s and get some of Birch’s Best and then we’ll see how long you can resist me. Come on.” He swept her up into his arms. “Allow me.”
Clare locked her arms around his neck. “Where are we?” She didn’t hear any water, so he must not have brought them to the lake. What romantic spot had Griffin found to cap off their evening?
“You’ll see.” He climbed a few stairs. “I have to set you down for a second. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Really? I thought I might go for a run.” She set her hand on his back to ground herself, her heart dancing. After their fight in the restaurant, the night had turned magical. It was as if their fight had unleashed a spark between them, and the connection had been wonderful. Griffin had wooed her like a prince, with magical words and champagne, and she’d felt like she was in a fairy tale. And then when he’d blindfolded her in the parking lot and told her he had a surprise, well, she’d really kind of melted.
It had been a very, very long time since anyone had given her a surprise.
Griffin muttered something to himself, and then she heard the sound of a key sliding into a lock. A building? Where in the world were they? It was almost midnight already. “Did you rent a motel room for us?”
“Why would I want to sleep anywhere but at your house?”
She smiled at the honesty in his voice. “It’s not the Ritz.”
“And thank God for that.” A door creaked, and then she felt Griffin’s hands on her waist as he picked her up again. “Okay, sweetheart. Here we go.”
Light glared, and she knew he’d turned on some lights. He set her down carefully, and kept his hands on her hips. “I want you to promise me something,” he said.
“What?” Her heart began to race. She couldn’t imagine what he was about to unveil.
“I want you to see with your heart, and not with your mind.”
Clare frowned. “See what?”
“What I’m about to show you. I don’t want you to think about it. Just feel it, okay?”
Now she was confused. “Um, okay—”
“Good.” He sounded excited. “Here you go.” He dropped the blindfold, and Clare squinted at the sudden brightness.
It took her eyes a moment to adjust, and then she was able to see. She was in a small, empty café with round wooden tables and matching chairs. A beautiful pine counter with a glass display case on the right. A huge blackboard on the wall by the ceiling, listing every kind of coffee beverage known to human kind. Disappointment killed her excitement. “You brought me to the Bean Pot? But I told you that I’m not going to buy it—”
“No.” Griffin pressed his finger to her lips. “I told you. No thinking. Just feeling. Agreed?”
She sighed but nodded. Anything to get this over with and get home.
“Okay.” Griffin freed her lips and then put his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward the seating area. “I want you, just for a minute, to envision it in a different way.” He gestured to the dark wood tables and plain chairs. “Those are pale pink with white legs. The chairs match.” He turned her toward the counter. “The chalk board is covered with beautiful writing in blue and pink and yellow and white. Names like Brooke’s Sweetie. And Honeymoon Surprise. And Fairy Wings.”
She started to smile. “Fairy Wings?”
“And here—” He jogged over to the display case. “This is covered with bright, clear glass, and the shelves are brass so shiny it sparkles like gold.” He spread his hands over the area, as if he were casting a magic spell across it. “Inside are dozens of cupcakes. Pink ones. Chocolate decadence. Mint delicacies. Even some made with Birch’s Beer. Those are called Man Cakes.”
She broke out in a laugh. “Man Cakes? Really?”
“Of course, really. The construction guys love ‘em. They’re loaded with beer, extra sugar and fat, and they’re made from chips and pizza dough.”
She set her hands on her hips, grinning at Griffin’s silliness. “Griffin—”
“And look up! Do you see it?”
Cobwebs, old wood beams and a few fluorescent lights. “The spiders?”
“No, no, no.” He came up behind her and set his hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently. “That pink and white ceiling fan, shaped like a cupcake. And the paintings on the ceiling. Have you ever seen such bright colors or so many different cupcakes? Emma did a great job on the mural, didn’t she? Who knew she could paint with such whimsy?”
And suddenly, Clare could see it. The place came to life with Griffin’s vision, and excitement rushed through her. She could see the sparkly gold paint decorating the lemon cupcake with sprinkles. Little children’s faces delighting in their desserts. The pink and white striped panels of the ceiling fan. “It’s so alive,” she whispered.
“And here? Do you see them?” He was standing behind one of the chairs, his hands resting on the back. “This family from Virginia? The mom and dad and three kids? See how happy they are?” He did a sweeping gesture of the table. “They’re staying in Portland for a week, but they heard about Clare’s Cupcakes, and they had to come see. They drove for almost two hours, and look how happy they are. They bought an extra box to take home and even ordered some to be mailed to the mom’s sister in Idaho as a surprise.”
Clare set her hands on her hips, laughing with delight as Griffin stopped at each table, regaling her with his stories about the imaginary patrons dining there. His magic was infectious and she could hear the music coming from the jukebox in the corner, she could smell her own creations baking, and the happy energy of the place swirled around them.
Griffin came back and caught her upper arms, his expression intense. “Can you see it, Clare? Can you feel the magic?”
“I can.” She really could. “All this from cupcakes?”
“All this from
your
cupcakes.” He put his arm around her shoulder and turned her to face the room. “This is your dream, Clare, and you can make it come true. Right here. Right now. It’s time.”
At his words, her excitement faded, replaced by a sensation of emptiness. She ducked out from his arm and walked toward the door. “It’s not time.”
“How can you say that?” He blocked her path to the door. “I saw your face when you were picturing it. I know you saw the magic. I know you felt it.” He tapped his fingers on the left side of her chest. “Your heart beats for it. I know it does. Can you really deny it?”
“I don’t—” Her denial died under the urgency of Griffin’s expression. His dark eyes were full of fire and passion, and she knew she couldn’t lie anymore. Not to him. Not to herself. “It is my dream,” she finally said quietly. “I would love to do this.”