Page 104 of The Curveball

Giana is back to her busy, cookie-baking self, no more allergic reactions to meds. We’ve had two big Marks-Fox-Warren-A few Vegas Kings family dinners, and I think my world is leveling out once again.

One unpleasant day came when a little more sleuthing from Dax and his brother-in-law uncovered one of the security guards had in fact been paid off by my dad to let Clay into the door. Seven hundred dollars. Not worth it since the security company let the guard go and that money wouldn’t go far.

Griffin almost went into his head with frustration, but I have my own special ways now of pulling him out.

Life is calm, but today feels off center. Griffin and I stand in front of the TV. Sitting is too complacent, and we’re both moving too much.

Billionaire Grant Pierson is shaking hands with Dallas Anderson and Parker Knight as he makes a four-million-dollar donation to the Future All-Star Foundation. ESPN and the major local news stations all gathered for this ribbon-cutting like gathering. It’s an incredible amount of money, but it’s more than money.

It’s my father finally doing something I asked him to do.

Sure, my threats might be spurring his actions, but if it got charges against Griffin to die before they even found footing, and if it helps the foundation grow to help more kids, I don’t care anymore what the motives are.

My father looks proud, but behind his façade of casino tycoon and businessman, there is an exhaustion behind his eyes.

“You should be there to accept it,” I whisper.

“No.” Griffin wraps his arms around my shoulders, hugging my back to his chest. “I’m right where I need to be.”

“And you’re secretly afraid you’d punch my dad on TV.”

“That too.”

I shake my head as my dad steps up to the microphone.

He clears his throat. “We’re honored to donate to this organization and help spread the good work it does for children across the country.” He pauses. “But I wouldn’t be honest if I said this was my idea. The credit goes to my daughter, Wren, and to my . . . to my sons, Darren and Carter. They told me to be better and . . . they were right. I hope this is a first step in being better. In spreading good.”

My dad steps back when the small crowd applauds.

I’m stunned.

“Wow,” Griffin says. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Me neither.”

He kisses the side of my head. “What do you think about it?”

I spin around in his hold and hug his waist, arching my neck to look up at him. “Like he said, I guess it’s a first step.”

Griffin smiles and kisses me.

I can breathe a little easier. My chest isn’t as tight. I’m not even close to being over the hurt from my father’s absence, but for the first time I feel like I can stand on my own two feet around Grant and not stumble with inadequacy.

I think a certain man has helped me be okay with this side of myself.

I break the kiss and whisper, “You’re better than a book boyfriend, Griff.”

“Birdie, stop flirting with me or I won’t be able to control my hands, or my mouth, and what they might do.”

I laugh and go up on my toes to kiss him good and thorough all over again. He smiles into the kiss, then tips me back in a low dip, so I let out a pitchy squeal.

This is what I want from my life.

I want Griffin Marks, and I think my heart knew it from the day I met him.

EPILOGUE

WREN