Page 165 of Fighting the Forbidden

“Wait. A contract?” I slip my hand out of his grasp. “This is a done deal?” There’s more he isn’t sharing. I feel it in my soul.

“It looks like it.” He glances away. “I don’t have exact dates yet.”

“Dates? For what?”

“When I’ll be away.”

“Away?” I sit back in my chair with a thud. “For how long?”

He looks me right in the eyes. “Up to eight weeks.”

“Eight weeks…Two months?” I fight to calm myself. This is important to Griff. Huge for him. “Well, okay. I guess I’ll be getting adjusted to college and?—”

“Shooting could start as early as the beginning of the summer.”

That soon? “But…you’ll be here for my graduation, right?”

He doesn’t look away. No, Griff touches his fingers to my chin and his steady gaze remains focused on me. “I’m not sure. Probably not,” he says gently.

“But it’s my graduation,” I insist, waving my hands around in frustration. “They’ll let you leave for something like that, right?”

“No. The set’s locked down. I’ll be able to call you once a week, but?—”

“Once a week?” Tears sting my eyes. I work hard to swallow the lump threatening to close off my throat.

Then the truth rattles into me like a rusty shopping cart to the shins.

This is already in motion. It didn’t happen overnight. It had to be planned way in advance. Griff signed papers and has details.

All without ever saying a word to me.

“How long have you known about this?” I ask with a chilling calmness.

“A while,” he admits.

“Since before we got together?”

He runs his hand over the back of his neck. “Ah, officially? Or unofficially?”

“I don’t believe you.” Do I really mean so little to him? “How could you consider something so big and not even mention it to me?”

“I wasn’t sure I was going to do it at first. I needed to arrange some things. Make sure Remy would be okay without my help at the?—”

“Wait, so Remy already knows?”

“Molly, we’re partners in The Castle. I can’t just up and leave without?—”

“And what am I? Your dimwitted girlfriend who’s still in high school? The one you don’t have to tell about monumental decisions?”

“No! Molly, we?—”

“‘Officially’ we’ve been friends a lot longer than we’ve been dating, or at least I thought we were friends. I would’ve been excited for you.” A painful wave of embarrassment almost knocks me out of my chair. “How could you not tell me at all?”

He scowls and genuinely seems puzzled.

“Wow.” I draw out the word with as much sarcasm as I can gather. “I see how it is. We’re not really friends. My opinions don’t matter. You expect me to accept all your decisions.”

“Calm down?—”

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