When the elevator reaches the lobby, I take a deep breath and step forward. Steady, steady…
Griffin is standing in front of the purple clock, scanning the crowd that’s heading out for lunch. When our eyes meet, he goes still.
I stop as well, letting myself absorb his presence. He’s wearing a dark suit. Under his straight, serious eyebrows, his eyes are bright and determined, his mouth set in a grim line.
He’s so gorgeous that I can barely breathe. The air in the lobby feels different with him here. I want to hug him and kiss him, but I also want to slap him and call him names, then burst out in tears because I have nobody to make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or bring me pistachio ice cream at three in the morning.
I’m going insane. No, he’s making me insane. I never felt such crazy, conflicting emotions until I met him.
“Sierra! I’m sorry. I screwed up,” he says loudly so I can hear him across the distance. “Nothing was your fault. I just reacted badly because I cared too much about what other people think. But that was idiotic of me. What I should’ve cared about is what you think.”
I say nothing, trying to process the scene. I have to be imagining this. I’ve been hoping Griffin and I could make up because it hurt so much to give up what we had. Because I knew we could be even better.
Griffin taps his phone. A familiar melody starts. Is he playing Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” to make his case?
No, he isn’t. Griffin starts singing over a karaoke version of the song.
All my food cravings go away, and my morose mood vanishes. All I can think is that Griffin is in the lobby, singing me one of the sweetest love songs ever—despite the fact that he hates singing. It was my grandma’s favorite. She and Grandpa danced to it at their wedding. She told me every time she heard the song, she felt loved.
His voice caresses my senses like a dream. If I thought my heart was soaring at the concert in Tokyo, it’s about to burst now with love and longing.
Griffin keeps singing. I start moving toward him, my arms spread wide.
All that matters is that half of my soul is serenading me in front of everyone, telling me he loves me.
As he hits the last note, I close my arms around him. He hugs me back hard.
“That was beautiful,” I whisper, my vision blurring with tears of happiness.
“I love you so much.” He pulls back slightly, his expression gorgeously somber. “Forgive me?”
“I love you too. And yes, of course I forgive you. All that matters is that we’re going to be happy together.” I smile.
He claims my mouth as the lobby bursts into loud cheers and applause.