Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“That ain’t Stonewall!” Naptime shouts.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Thank you. The more people who say it the better. When we leave here today, I don’t want there to be a single doubt that Griff’s innocent.
Matt gasps. “It’s not?”
“No!” Griff finally snaps. “It’s not.”
“Oh my.” Matt’s overstretched lips curve up. “What a grave error.”
“Issh bullsheee,” Naptime slurs.
“Finally, we agree on something,” Griff mutters.
“So, Molly,” Mat says in a low voice, as if we’re two buddies sharing secrets. “Word is, after that episode aired, you were so angry, you destroyed a car. Tell us about that.”
My eyes widen in horror. Do they somehow have a clip of that too? I slowly turn but the screen’s still frozen on the image of Naptime and Kiki in bed. I slide my startled eyes toward Griff.
What should I say?
He nods once, silently giving me his strength and encouragement.
Do I lie? Tell the truth?
Griff wanted to present a united front. Wanted everyone to know the lie didn’t break us.
Except it did. It broke me.
And I destroyed my car because of it.
That’s between Griff and me.
Don’t give them the satisfaction of knowing that they got to me.
The perfect answer falls into place.
I push my lips into a warm smile and beam it toward the audience. “I just love spending time in the garage with my man.” I reach down and take his hand, holding it up like I’m showing him off. “His hands are as talented at restoring cars as they are at rearranging faces in the ring.” I aim a sweet, innocent smile at Naptime, then the host.
Hah! They can interpret that any way they want.
Griff body jolts slightly, his stomach quivering as he suppresses a laugh. He leans in, kissing my cheek. “Love you, Muffin,” he whispers, his breath warm against my ear.
A collective murmur of admiration rolls through the crowd.
The host sputters and frowns, then glances at the note cards in his hands.
I pull my shoulders back and lift my chin, striving to project more confidence than I possess.
Turmoil and doubts churn inside me. I’m the lowest fraud. If only I really had believed in Griff. After being surrounded by these people for a few hours, it really sinks in how awful Griff’s isolation in the mansion must’ve been. I hate that I wasn’t there for him in the last few months of the show. Embarrassment and hurt ruled my actions.
The blade of anger I’ve been carrying twists inward, pointing at myself. How could I let some sneaky camera angles and slick editing fool me?
I don’t belong up here, sitting next to Griff. Acting like I was a faithful, loving girlfriend.
All the awful feelings from that night rush over me. The ache in my arms. My desperation to run away…The buzzing in my head crackles to a stop. Slowly the conversation around me filters back in. I force away my doubts and try to pay attention.
How much longer do we have to be here?
Matt’s speaking to Kiki. “But you have to admit, you were really into Stonewall.” He points to the screen. I turn and it’s the clip of their first interaction playing.
While Kiki’s playful and flirty, Griff seems disinterested but trying to be polite.
The video freezes when she touches his chest.
“I mean, just look at that chemistry.” Matt’s voice oozes with insincerity, his fake smile plastered to his face.
I flick my gaze to the screen again. I don’t know how anyone could interpret Griff’s stone-cold fuck off stare as anything other than hostile.
Griff sits forward, catching Matt’s attention. “Why don’t you show the rest of that clip? The unedited version if it still exists.”
A wave of interested “oohs” and “ahhs” ripple through the audience.
The video continues. Kiki’s voice harsh over the speakers. “Why are you letting some little girl back in your hick town lock you down so young, Griff? You have so much potential. Why shackle yourself to one girl when you can have your pick of any woman?”
The emphasis she puts on woman makes me want to shrink into the cushions. I have never felt more like a dumb kid in my life.
“You wouldn’t understand.” Griff’s firm tone resonates through the theater. “She’s not my prison. She’s my peace.”
The audience erupts in cheers and whistles.
Warmth flows through me. With all the other ugliness, I’d forgotten that moment earlier in the show.
Griff squeezes my hand. I lift my gaze and meet his loving eyes. He rests his forehead against mine. “That’s the truth, you know. I meant it.”
My throat’s too tight to say a word. Moisture burns the backs of my eyeballs. Griff presses his hand to my cheek, providing me with a shield until I wrangle my tears back. Finally, I nod. “I know.”
Mortification chills me to my toes when I look away from Griff and realize everyone is staring at us and several cameras are pointed our way. They probably caught every word.