Page 37 of Counterfeit Connection

“I know I seem like I’d have snooty, British taste in films, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“Well, now I need to know. Tell me a movie you like.”

I peer at her over my wine glass before answering, “The Hangover.”

She nearly chokes on her drink and starts to laugh and cough at the same time. “Oh my God.”

“I told you. I’m full of surprises.”

“If you start quoting it, you’ll see my least attractive quality. I snort when something makes me laugh so hard I can hardly breathe.”

“I'm going to need to make that happen sooner than later.”

“Ooh. You know what you could do then?”

“No. Please tell me.” I watch her trace her fingertip along the rim of her glass in awe. Even her hands are attractive.

“I need to see you reenact the scene where Hugh Grant dances to the Pointer Sisters. That would absolutely cap it for me.”

“Hugh Grant?” I smile. “Wow, I haven’t even thought aboutLove Actuallyin so long.”

My face begins to ache with laughter. I can’t recall laughing this much in years. There’s a stark difference between the laughs you share with your mates and the laughter you have with a woman. “Sounds like your British aversion is just a cover,” I continue. “You secretly love us. Me thinks thou dost protest too much.”

She drains the remainder of her glass. “And me thinks it could just be a Griffin Shaw thing. You are pretty charming when you want to be. Not to mention, you aren’t terrible to look at.”

“I like wine-drunk Kaitlyn. She’s very complimentary of me.”

“Wait until you meet tequila-drunk Kaitlyn.”

“I have a feeling I’ll enjoy every version of you over our time together.”

Kaitlyn

When we first arrived at the restaurant, I was acutely aware of the eyes on us, but now that we’ve settled in, I don’t even mind.

I caught what appeared to be a girls’ night out, simply staring at us as we exited our car and walked in. At first, my insecurities got the better of me and I started to think maybe I was being judged for something. What I’ve come to realize is, people can’t help but notice Griffin for a number of different reasons.

His obvious model looks and extremely pleasing jawline can be noticed from a hundred yards away. Then as you get closer, his perfectly tailored clothing spawns one of two questions: what designer is he wearing or, shit, what is under those clothes? Male or female…you’re not immune.

The thing I think I hate most is, the first night I interacted with him, I immediately wrote him off as a conceited asshole so full of himself that he couldn’t possibly be intelligent or kind. He was just another man who likes to beat his chest when he’s around women. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

Even in our short time together, I find Griffin to be protective in good ways, smart in all ways beyond any prep school or university could provide. I do find him to have an amazing sense of humor. I hope to experience more of that. But, last, and certainly not least, I forgot the cardinal rule my parents instilledin me. Actually, it’s part of why I got into the law. Every person has a story. You need to dig sometimes to find it. I guess my real digging begins today.

“Kaitlyn? Hello? Did I lose you just then? We can stop the flow of grapes if it’s become too much.” He smiles.

I giggle quietly. “No. I was just giving myself a private pep talk. I realize I know a few things about you and you know a few things about me, but, as you say, if we’re going to make this work, we need to know more than surface stories. They help, but I want to know you and you need to know me. That would include your whole story…thoughts, feelings. Are you okay with that?”

“My whole story meaning what, exactly?”

“We need to know things about one another that two people in a serious relationship would know.”

“Okay, I’ll go first. Will you tell me about your family?” he asks. “I’ve heard you speak about your sister and father, but not your mother.”

My hand instinctively goes to the necklace hanging delicately at my chest.

“My mother passed away when I was twenty. She was sick and fought like hell, but cancer is a mean, mean bitch.”

“Christ, Kaitlyn, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

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