“And the way I heard it, Katherine wasn’t happy when Griffin broke it off.” Yuna’s shoulders lifted in a show of unease. “Last year, when I heard they were going out . . . should I have told you?”
“Of course not,” Rae said too quickly. Regret feathered through her, along with the rush of “what if” questions she’d learned to suppress. Pushing them away, she added, “My relationship with Griffin ended in high school. Months before we graduated. I’m not even sure when he left for Ohio University—fast, is what I heard eventually. I guess he spent the summer working down in Athens before starting classes in the fall.”
“You’re sure it doesn’t matter?”
“Yuna, I last dated Griffin sixteen years ago. We’re different people now. This morning I humiliated myself in front of a man who’s basically a stranger. I’m sure he thinks I’m rude and obnoxious.” She picked up her coffee, her emotions in flux—about Griffin, but even more so, Lark. Was it possible she’d argued with Stella over Griffin? The thought made her unexpectedly sad. “I am a dope. This morning I accused him of encouraging my daughter. He hadn’t, obviously. When Lark first showed up in his office, it must’ve thrown him.”
Yuna’s lips pursed. The question she was too courteous to ask floated between them.
Was Lark correct? Was Griffin her father?
She’d never pose the question. For good reason—she was Rae’s dearest friend. Their bond was airtight. And she understood: if Rae had wanted to share the name missing on her daughter’s birth certificate, she would’ve done so before now.
Instead, Yuna appraised the lacquered box with palpable respect. “I didn’t open it. Griffin wasn’t keen about discussing the contents. I can tell you aren’t either.”
“No, I’m not.” Rae took a meager sip of her coffee. “I do need to apologize to Griffin.”
How did one compose an apology that was years overdue? It seemed an impossible task.
“Leave it for now. Griffin won’t think less of you. For whatever the reason, you’ve both gone out of your way to avoid each other. What happened this morning doesn’t change anything.” Yuna offered a comforting smile. “You’re both good people. Lark’s fairy tale no longer matters. It’s best to move on.”
“You’re right.”
“I usually am.”
Rae swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Have I told you today that I love you?”
“You have not.” Affection brimmed on Yuna’s features. “And I love you too.”
“How’s your tummy? I left mouthwash in the guest bathroom, just in case.”
Yuna lifted her cup. “The peppermint tea is doing the trick.” She’d brought along her laptop. Flipping it open, she added, “Kameko’s play date lasts another hour. Since we’ve both knocked off work early, want to tackle another item for the June fundraiser? We still haven’t decided on a theme.”
On the second floor of Marks Auto, his father’s private area was a hawk’s nest overseeing the activity below.
The sales staff, the office staff, the service reps—all were relegated to cubbyholes on the main floor. What those offices lacked in size, they made up for in privacy. They weren’t visible from above.
With two carryout bags in his fist, Griffin strode from the elevator.
The balcony outside his father’s office ran a good length above the showroom below, where a select group of new-model cars and trucks gleamed beneath spotlights. At the circular customer service desk, a young couple was flipping through a Marks Auto brochure on financing options. Near the back of the showroom, behind a nine-foot partition, part of the cafeteria was also visible. Though employees were required to punch in and out for lunch, it hardly mattered. No one lingered for long, not with the boss able to spy from above.
Griffin checked his phone. It was twelve on the dot. Perfect.
Mik entered the lunchroom. After three days of this cat-and-mouse game, the mechanic was no longer caught unawares.
His angry gaze lifted to the balcony. Loathing narrowed Griffin’s eyes.
The staring match lasted for eight seconds before Mik surrendered. Two seconds longer than yesterday, Griffin mused.
Frowning, Mik strode to the cafeteria’s vending machines. He dug cash from his pocket.
From his office, Everett finished barking into the phone. “How long are you going to keep this up?” he shouted.
Griffin strolled inside.