“And yet, you still manage to be the best part of mine. Funny how that works.” He sets the champagne on the table, and his hands glide gently down my arms, an attempt at soothing, maybe. I stare at his blue tie that almost matches my dress today. Not intentional, but there it is, like the invisible thread of our connection. “Just give us a chance beyond the predetermined end date you’ve set in your head.”

It’s a risk, allowing this to be more, but the alternative is ending things right now, and that’s definitely not what I want. I’ll take the uncertainty of a future with him, rather than the certainty of his absence and the hole it will leave in my life. “Okay.”

His smile makes my heart melt, and other parts of me are melting below the waist. I’m in so much trouble with this man.

“So you agree that you’re my girlfriend?”

All the armor I’ve stapled to my heart to keep it protected pops off as it swells, so I throw in some snark to keep it from getting too real with all the feels. “Yes. I’m your girlfriend and you’re my sugar daddy.”

Griffin rolls his eyes. “It’s a decade, Cosy. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I know. I just like how much it irritates you when I say things like that.”

He kisses me, and our conversation dissolves into caresses and moans.

* * *

Sometime between the supply closet incident, his meeting, and returning to the suite, Griffin apparently had time to do some online shopping for me. There are several new dresses in his closet.

The next morning, I suggest we go down to the hotel restaurant to eat. He doesn’t seem particularly excited by the prospect, but he agrees. Since I’d only packed a dinner dress and my regular go-to shorts-and-tank ensemble, I wear one of the dresses in Griffin’s closet. I hate to admit it, but the fabric feels amazing, and I’m a lot less conspicuous beside him. Griffin’s lack of enthusiasm becomes understandable once we’re seated. Every three seconds someone stops by to say hello and ask him for the eight millionth time if they can get him anything. His phone keeps going off, and when he glances at the screen for the tenth time, he practically growls before he powers it down and shoves it in his bag on the floor.

“Does anyone ever say no to you?” I pop a bite of my waffle into my mouth and try not to moan at how good it is. Eggos have nothing on this.

“You do.” Griffin went with the maple pecan French toast. I made a joke earlier about poached eggs or oatmeal being more his speed, which he did not appreciate.

“Not often.”

He smiles at that. “What are the chances you can get an entire weekend off work?”

Usually I work at STW either Saturday or Sunday. “If I ask far enough in advance, it’s possible, why?”

He sets his fork down and worries his bottom lip for a second, almost as if he’s nervous. “I was thinking we should take that road trip you mentioned before I have to go back to New York.”

“That would be fun. I can ask my boss today.”

“Great.” He fiddles with his silverware for a few seconds. He’s definitely nervous, but I don’t understand why. Possibly because I’m not a planner and a trip with me will mean flying by the seat of our pants. “I have another thought.”

“We’re not booking hotel rooms in advance. We pick a direction and we drive until we find something to stop for.”

He chuckles. “Noted. I’ll prepare myself accordingly for the experience. I wanted to ask about your internship. When will you be placed?”

“Probably this week, why?”

He’s super fidgety. My stomach twists, and I set my own fork down, my appetite disappearing with his anxiety.

“What if I could get you an internship in New York?”

My heart skips, because the offer must mean he’s serious about wanting this to work out, but I don’t like the idea of being given something I haven’t earned because I know the right people. “Wouldn’t it be weird for me to work at one your hotels?”

“We have twenty in the downtown area, and it’s not like I just pop by all the time.”

“I don’t know, Griffin. How authentic will that internship be if I get a placement because I’m your girlfriend? I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t want my integrity questioned or people to think that I only managed to get the placement because of you.”

“I could secure one that isn’t at a Mills Hotel, so it’s not a conflict of interest and to avoid nepotism.”

I reach across the table and squeeze his hand. “That’s sweet, Griffin, but you need to look at this from an outsider perspective. Middle-class Vegas girl in college with a hotel mogul for a boyfriend means people are already going to question why we’re together. They’re going to speculate that I’m using the fact that I don’t have any cellulite yet and perky boobs to climb my way up the social ladder. Let’s not give anyone more fodder for speculation than they already have.”