Page 83 of Subbing For Santa

I’d thought after the chat I had with his dad he knew I wasn’t going anywhere, but he obviously needed it confirmed. For someone that does what he does and carries such an air of confidence, he’s just shown me how insecure he can be.

And honestly, it makes him more human to me.

We return to my house, but we aren’t there for long before Griffin’s phone starts blowing up with messages and phone calls. I know straight away it has something to do with why he’s been so distracted. He steps outside to take the calls, watching me through the windows every now and then as he talks or yells at someone, and when he returns inside, he looks frazzled.

“I’m sorry to do this, Aggie, but I have to go.”

My brows shoot up as I turn from the salad I’ve just made us.

“What’s going on?”

He shakes his head, stepping up to me, and clasps my head between his strong hands. “It’s family business, I’m afraid. That’s all I can tell you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

My eyes study his for answers, but it only leaves me with more questions. Leaning down, Griffin presses his lips to mine in a searing kiss that reminds me of how much he cares, and when he pulls back, he presses his forehead to mine, breathing the same air as me.

“I’m sorry.”

They are the last words he says before he turns to leave me in my little rental, and I spend most of the night looking out at the moon’s reflection on the lake as my little Christmas flower arrangement twinkles next to me.

For the first time in days, the familiar feeling of loneliness creeps in, and I have no idea how to deal with it.

Chapter twenty-three

Trepidation

Agatha

Griffindidn’tcomebacklast night. Or this morning. Or this afternoon. Now, as the sun starts to dip past the trees, I wonder if he’s ever going to return at all.

Since he left last night, I’ve felt uneasy. I can’t figure out why exactly, and I keep putting it down to feeling lonely.

I tried to call Griffin multiple times throughout the day, but he didn’t pick up. I’ve sent him text messages, and his one worded response on occasion is the only inkling I have that he’s still alive.

It’s such a contrast to how things have been between us that it’s really throwing me. Since I’m not all that familiar with relationships, I have no idea if this is normal. Like is that it? Is the honeymoon over already?

I worry I’ve done something wrong, but then I worry something else is going on with his family business, and maybe he’s in danger.

I’ve tried to keep myself busy, spending the day catching up on mundane chores, and I forced myself into two yoga and meditation sessions, trying to keep myself from spiralling over something I’m not even sure is an issue.

Standing at the sink, I wash my dinner plate, having only eaten a few bites before giving up on eating. I have no appetite, too consumed with this unrelenting worry. My stomach is nothing but knots as I close my eyes and take in a steadying breath.

The sound of something moving on the front porch snaps my eyes open, and I spin quickly to face the entrance as a shadow moves past the frosted glass window.

Is that Griffin?

Movement out of the corner of my eye sends my heart into overdrive as I realise there’s more than one person outside.

The moment I see black-clad men dart past the living room window holding guns, I slap my hand over my mouth to stifle my scream.

Loud thuds sound on the front door, and I drop to the floor behind the kitchen bench.

“Miss Fiera! My name is Barton. Mr Marx sent us here to protect you.”

What? Barton? Protect me?

Loud thuds rattle the door again. “Miss Fiera, please come to the door so I can speak with you. We are here to help.”

My limbs are trembling, and I try to make them work, only just managing to shuffle myself along the floor to reach up and grab my phone off the kitchen bench. As my heart thunders in my ears, I tap the screen and unlock the phone, open the contacts and press call on Griffin’s number.

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