how many people probably call in?"
"Let's take a question from you. Caller One, you're on the radio with Captain Kirk and Griffin Chase," Nicole heard, both over the speakers and in her ear.
What? Her mouth went dry and she gripped the phone.
"Caller One, are you there?"
"Hello?" she said tentatively.
An exclamation went through the entire café.
"Caller One, welcome to Rock Out with Captain Kirk. What's your name, honey?"
"Nicole."
"Nicole, do you have a question for Griffin Chase?" the DJ repeated.
She could hear the eye-roll in his voice, and it was enough to pull her together. "Yes, I do. Grif—Griffin, I was wondering about your inspiration for Here with You. What's your friend like?"
Without missing a beat, he said, "She's the loveliest person I've ever known, and I wish her all the happiness in the world."
"What if she doesn't want happiness?" she asked. "What if she wants you?"
Valentine smacked a hand on her forehead and shook her head.
"I mean," Nicole amended quickly, "what if you make her happy? What if she'd be miserable without you in her life?"
"Then I'd do everything in my power to make her happy for the rest of my life," he said without pause. "She deserves that and more. She deserves to be treasured and respected, and reminded how great and talented she is."
Nicole nodded. "Good to know. Thanks. And your new single is awesome."
She hung up.
The entire café roared in protest.
Nicole stood up and blew a kiss to the crowd and motioned to Eve to turn the radio off. "Thank you for the support, everyone," she said and then sat back down. She put a hand to her chest, afraid her heart was going to jump out.
Rachel was the first to speak. "You adults are crazy."
Yes, she was crazy, but sometimes you had to take a chance. Or two chances, she thought as she looked at the papers spread in front of her.
Nicole didn't hear from Grif all night. No phone call. No text. No email.
She opened Romantic Notions early the next morning, because she needed something to do instead of pacing in her apartment, wondering if he was serious about what he'd said.
Of course he was serious. She shook her head as she rearranged the sketches she'd lined up on the counter for the tenth time. Grif never said something he didn't mean. If he said he wanted to make her happy for the rest of his life, he meant it. When "forever" started was the thing in debate here.
Sighing in disgust—at herself—she focused on the designs. Valentine had found her a manufacturer. Once they found a backer, they could begin production. Finding a backer seemed like an impossible task, but Valentine had assured her it wouldn't take much.
It was overwhelming and scary. She could lose everything.
Except she had nothing to lose. She exhaled and studied her designs. Quickly, she weeded out the ones that didn't fit with the story she had in mind for her first season's line: true love.
The door chimed open.
She started to smile as she looked up, but it died on her lips when she saw who stood in the doorway.
Setting his guitar case next to the door, Grif took his cowboy hat off and crushed it in his hand. "I've been trying to get here since last night. I had a TV interview I was committed to, and it went late so I missed the last flight out. And then this morning my flight was cancelled and the one I was bumped to was delayed."
She swallowed thickly. "Maybe the universe was trying to keep you from coming here."
"No, the universe was testing me to see how badly I wanted this."
"You're here," she said carefully.
"I want this." In his voice, there was more rock-solid certainty than she'd ever heard from him, and that was saying something. He gazed at her steadily.
"I can't change who I am, Nic. This is what you get, so you've got to be sure you want it."
"I do. I want it. I want you."
He didn't make a move, as if he didn't believe her.
She'd make him believe her. She moved toward him. "You know how my parents always told me I could be anything and do anything I wanted? That I just had to find my passion?"
He nodded, putting his hands in his pocket.
"I was so scared I'd pick something as my passion and then find out I didn't love it. You were right, I bounced from thing to thing, always second-guessing myself. I was the same with men,