“I don’t think so either,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. I don’t want to stress about this right now, not when Griffin’s openly talking without being hostile. But, if he wants to know, I want to be open with him. This is his life now too, and he deserves answers.
He sighs. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“Callum says that Giovanni knows I’m the father of the baby, he’s probably right. I think he’s been waiting for us to approach him with a way to fix things. He won’t expect me to show up already married.”
“Right. I guess that makes sense. If his unwed daughter wound up pregnant, he’d want to know who was responsible.”
“Sean is going to forge the timestamps of the pictures from today. He can change the metadata so that anyone who goes digging will think the photos from our wedding were taken two years ago.”
“He’s also changing the date on our marriage certificate. Callum’s going to threaten to expose Camille as being a whore for ruining our marriage and sleeping with me when I was drunk. And our hope is that Giovanni will be willing to compromise.”
Griffin stiffens. “Is that what happened? She took advantage of you?”
I contemplate my answer. As much as I want to believe I wouldn’t cheat, I did. Lying and saying that’s what happened would be the easy way out. He deserves the truth. And even if I don’t remember what happened, it happened. I hate myself for not remembering the details, but I’m not going to let him believe she took advantage. I could have said no, and I didn’t. Alcohol or not, the decision was made. “I don’t know what happened, baby. But I know I wouldn’t have cheated on you on purpose. Yet here we are.”
His hand falls over mine in his hair. “I know that now. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”
“No, you have every right to your feelings. It’s my fuck up and I’m trying to fix it. I know I have a problem with alcohol and I still drank enough to lower my inhibitions.”
He shakes his head, shooting upright. “I should have listened to you sooner.” He frantically presses his hands against my chest. “I should have been there for you when you needed me.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m the one who fucked it up. You were reacting to my betrayal.” Pushing off the counter, I round the corner to stand beside him.
My hands grasp either side of his face, desperate for him to understand that he’s not responsible for everything that’s happened since the night I ruined it all. Being unfaithful is the number one reason why marriages don’t work, and I was cheating on him before we were even contemplating a wedding. I ruined any chance of success we had before we even knew this is where we’d be. Now, this is just an arrangement that will never change into anything else.
That Griffin is standing here, willing to help me out of this jam is more than I could ever ask for. “Thank you for doing this today,” I say. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.”
“It’s the least I could do,” he whispers.
I drop my face to his, our mouths practically touching. The need to kiss him pulses through my veins, and the way his heart is pounding, I know he feels the same. I nudge his cheek with my nose, his whiskey breath so close, it invades my senses.
“Kiss me,” I plead with him. “I need you to love me again. I’m nothing without you. Fuck, my heart hurts every day I wake up and you’re not next to me in bed.”
Griffin’s hands tangle in my hair, and he pulls me closer to him. Our lips connect in a fury, tongues fighting for dominance in each other’s mouths. We don’t stop, hands roaming each other and I don’t want it to stop. I know the second we pull away, there’s a high chance he’ll sober up and realize this is a mistake.
His teeth sink into my lip, drawing blood. I groan, embracing the pain. My cock aches, begging to be free and against his bare skin. I frantically start undoing the buttons of his shirt, licking the blood off my lip.
Griffin doesn’t stop me. Not even when I yank his shirt off and move my mouth to his chest, flicking a nipple with my tongue.
“I need you,” I say, trying to undo his belt. “Take me out of my misery already, baby.”
His body tenses and he shoves me away. “Stop!”
There’s a good amount of distance between us, and we’re both struggling to catch our breath. I’m not sure what I’ve done wrong. We were both so into the moment, but a part of me worries it’s because he’s realizing what this means. That maybe he’s just not ready to forgive me, yet. That maybe he’s only agreed to marry me so that I’m not killed by the Italians.
“What’s wrong?”
“We can’t do this.” The light in the kitchen is still turned off, so it’s hard to catch his facial expression, or the shape of his eyes. But I do know that tone, the soft sadness. Is he sorry about something? There’s nothing he needs to be sorry for.
“Please?” I ask, stepping forward. “This was your idea. No strings attached. I’m here, and I want to wake up with you in my bed.”
He drags a hand through his hair. “It’s not right.”
“What’s not right?”
“We can’t—not when—no. It’s not okay.”
“Not when, what, Michael?”
