Page 1 of Meant For Love

One

Nash

I push open the glass door and step out to the parking lot. The sun is slowly coming up. The waves crashing on the rocks not far away fill the quiet morning, along with the birds soaring in the cloudless sky. “It’s going to be a beautiful day,” I mumble as I walk toward my car, gym bag and protein shake in one hand. With my ringing phone in the other hand, I see it’s my brother Caine’s name flashing on the screen. The picture is of him glaring at the camera, wearing a tux, sitting on a stool—a beer in his hand taken at his wedding—when I answer. “Nash Griffin,” I mock him since that is the only way he answers his phone, which irritates the fuck out of me.

“He’s a comedian,” he says right away, picking up on the joke. “I thought I’d find you sleeping.”

“You thought wrong. I’m just leaving the gym,” I tell him, opening the trunk of the car before tossing my bag in and walking over to the driver’s door and opening it. Putting the phone on speaker, I start the car, and the Bluetooth picks up, but as soon as that happens, the FaceTime ring hits my phone.

He waits until he can see me before he talks. “You were just leaving the gym,” he says, his voice in disbelief, “it’s what… six o’clock there?” I see he’s sitting behind his desk at the office, suit jacket hanging already on the back of his chair, tie a little loose with one button open.

“Yup,” I confirm, putting on my sunglasses and exiting the parking lot. “Just a little after.”

“And you’re already done with your workout?” he asks, flabbergasted.

“We can’t all be going for the dad bod,” I joke with him, earning me one of his famous glares. “I was going to tell you when I saw you last that you’ve been letting yourself go.” I roll my lips because I know he’s going to come back and tell me to go fuck myself.

“Fuck you,” he hisses, his face coming so close to the phone it’s all I see, making me smile, knowing how well I know him. “I’d rather be home in bed with my wife than in a sweaty gym.”

“But the question is”—I look around as more cars enter the almost vacant parking lot, which won’t be like this for long—“would your wife want you to be in bed with her, or at the gym keeping that figure like it was when she fell in hate with you?” I laugh. When Grace and Caine first met, they loathed each other. More like my brother was a donkey who would say the wrong thing over and over again. I figured it out quickly. He did that because one, he was stupid, and two, he really, really liked her. She got under his skin like no one else. “So what’s the answer?”

“I’d rather him be in bed with me,” Grace’s voice chimes in, then she comes into the camera view, rounding the desk to stand next to him. He looks up at her with a smile, his hand going to wrap around her hips while she wraps her arm around his shoulders. “All day, every day.” She looks down at him with pure love written on her face.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite sister-in-law,” I say softly, her eyes flying back to the screen and she tilts her head to the side. “How’re you doing, sweetheart?”

“She’s doing fine,” Caine hisses, pulling her closer to his side, “and don’t talk like that to her, all smooth and shit. No one wants to hear that early in the morning. And especially don’t call her fucking sweetheart.”

“I don’t know. I can name a couple of women who would like me to call them sweetheart.” I chuckle while Caine groans, and Grace just shakes her head. “What are you guys doing calling me at six o’clock anyway?”

“You are almost always at your desk by six thirty,” Grace reminds me, “so thirty minutes isn’t much of a stretch.”

“A lot can happen in thirty minutes,” I point out, and it’s Grace’s turn to be the comedian.

“Not too much can happen in thirty minutes that most women remember.” Caine laughs out loud now, but not for long, when Grace turns her attention to him. “You remember that in the morning when you want to quickly get in there.”

“Burn,” I snap. “What I’m getting from this conversation is she’s not satisfied in the bedroom.” I make my way over to my office. “Caine, how does it make you feel that not only have you let yourself go but now you aren’t even satisfying your wife?”

The growl makes me laugh each time. “Can you be professional for once in your life?”

“Hey,” I say, “I answered the phone using my whole name.”

“I know, so much different from ‘Yo,’” Caine retorts while I pull up to the office. I park in my designated spot, seeing my name right above the company name, Cottrell Group. A company my parents started when I was born. They were both working for investment firms and decided to take their portfolio and see what they could do independently. They worked out of an office at home for many years until they outgrew it. Then they decided to open a branch in New York because of Wall Street. Their portfolio only grew. Caine and I got the bug to follow in their footsteps, so I graduated from the University of Philadelphia with a bachelor’s degree in finance and economics. During this time, my parents expanded to California, Chicago, Texas, and Washington, DC, where Caine runs the show. I took over the California office, dipping my toe into the Texas office every now and again. Even though we have our own branches, we still like to occasionally drop in to each other’s offices.

“Is this why you’re calling?” I ask, getting out of the car and walking toward the building. A building we bought not too long ago and moved everything over to.

“No, I’m calling because we seriously need to discuss hiring someone to take over the PR of the firms. Someone who will handle all aspects of media,” he huffs out on a deep breath. “Mom and Dad just let their assistants do it for the time being, but even now, they are done with it and don’t see the need for it.”

“Mom and Dad don’t know anything about social media, so they don’t see the need for it. I can see where they were twenty years ago, fuck, even ten years ago, but it’s a different time. The new generation is coming up, and everything, and I mean everything, is done online.”

“I agree,” Caine says. “Which is why I’m handing it to you. The cool kid.” He grins. “Besides, I don’t want to handle it.”

“You don’t want to handle it?” I tilt my head to the side. “Or you can’t handle it because of your age, Grandpa.”

“At this moment, if you calling me Grandpa means you’re going to take care of it, so be it.” He chuckles.

“So this is how it goes?” I pull out the key to the door and unlock it before stepping in and disarming the alarm. “You don’t want to do something, so you give it to me.” I shake my head. “That’s so generous of you.”

“You’re the hip one.” He leans back in his chair as Grace bites her lip to avoid laughing. “I’m the dinosaur who still answers my phone with my name instead of Yo. I also don’t know all those letter thingies.”