Page 55 of Gripp

THIRTY

GRIPP

Gripp picked April up from the front of her apartment building at seven in the evening. He didn’t know many places in the area, so she chose one she thought would be suitable for the occasion. He never thought he’d be considering proposing to a woman, ever. But April was his mate, and he knew it with every fiber of his being.

They greeted each other with fervency, kissing while pressed up against the car. Gripp thought the way she let him wrap a hand around her thigh was a good thing … a sign of a life to come.

It was when they arrived at the restaurant that he started to worry.

They were seated in a dark booth with a candle at the center of the table. As usual, April looked stunning, her flowing dress showing off enough cleavage and leg to keep him wanting more. Her lips were plump with blood-red lipstick, some of which had clung to his after their make-out session.

“How the hell are you?” he asked, leaning on his palm.

She smiled at him, mimicking his position of leaning against the table. Gripp thought she looked much cuter than him doing it.

“Cleaner,” she replied. “My armpits now smell like lemon rather than the inside of a butt crack.”

Gripp snorted, surprised by the intensity of his laughter. They both giggled in the booth like teenagers, with Gripp feeling like he was flying again.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” he said, wiping a tear away.

“And you?” she asked.

“Clean too. Also, happy now that I get to see you,” he said, grinning ear to ear.

April looked down at the table, her smile melting away. The micro-expression made Gripp’s heart drop in his chest, setting off the poison bomb of doubt in his mind.

“I’m glad to see you too,” she whispered.

Gripp had been expecting a confirmation of their feelings but instead received a half-hearted reply without having their eyes meet. He strummed his fingers against the table, watching April scratch the back of her head awkwardly.

“Did you want to order a drink first?” he asked politely.

April nodded, then coyly ordered a rum and Coke for herself. Gripp got the same, and after receiving it from the server, both fell into an awkward silence that neither had experienced.

He wondered if he had made a mistake in buying the ring so soon. Perhaps the excitement only existed when they were on the run with their lives on the line.

Gripp set the menu down and leaned forward.

“I’m not very hungry, actually,” he said.

“Me either,” April replied quietly.

“Let’s get out of here.”

She met his eyes again, smiling with excitement. The spontaneity was what she liked, perhaps, a lot of what thrilled her about being with him.

“Okay,” she said.

They downed their drinks and decided to find a park nearby. They walked with the streetlights pouring over their bodies, the space between them palpable and discouraging.

“Gripp,” April said, clutching at her purse, “there’s something I want to tell you.”

Gripp saw a bench ahead that looked over a sweet patch of violet tulips. Beyond it was a trickling fountain, a romantic and ideal scene for a proposal.

“Hold that thought,” he said.

Gripp scooped April’s hand into his, and just like that, they were running. April was wearing heels but went right along with it, laughing and trusting him the way she had in that foreign land.

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