Chapter 2 Lover, Liar, Stranger

# Chapter 2: Lover, Liar, Stranger

I spent the rest of the evening in a fog, smiling mechanically at old family friends who commented on how much I'd grown or how I had my mother's eyes. All the while, my gaze kept drifting to Griffin—watching how naturally he fit into this world, how his hand rested on the small of Celeste's back, how he charmed everyone with that smile I had thought was only for me.

By midnight, most of the guests had departed. I was about to slip away to my room when Claire caught my arm.

"You haven't said ten words in the past two hours," she murmured. "What's going on?"

I hesitated, the truth burning on my tongue. "I can't—not here."

"Coffee tomorrow? That little place on Madison we used to sneak off to?"

I nodded, grateful for her concern but desperate to be alone. As Claire left, I turned toward the staircase, only to find my path blocked.

"Leaving so soon?" Griffin stood before me, holding two glasses of whiskey. "The night's still young."

Up close, without the crowd between us, the reality of him was even more devastating. The same lips that had traced my collarbone last night now curved into a polite smile meant for a stranger.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, glancing around to make sure we weren't overheard.

"Having a drink with my fiancée's daughter." He offered me one of the glasses. "We should get to know each other, don't you think?"

I ignored the drink. "The greenhouse. Five minutes."

Without waiting for his response, I walked away, my heart hammering. The old greenhouse stood at the far end of the garden, a Victorian relic my mother had loved. Celeste had wanted to tear it down, but my father had refused—one of the few times he'd stood against her wishes.

Inside, the air was warm and heavy with the scent of earth and flowers. Moonlight filtered through the glass panes, casting strange shadows among the plants. I paced between rows of orchids, rehearsing what to say, how to demand explanations.

The door opened and closed softly. Griffin stepped inside, his tall frame silhouetted against the glass.

"You're angry," he stated, remaining by the door.

"Angry doesn't begin to cover it." My voice shook despite my efforts to control it. "Was this some kind of game to you? Pick up the daughter the day before announcing your engagement to the mother?"

"Stepmother," he corrected, moving closer.

"Don't split hairs with me!" I backed away from his approach. "You knew exactly who I was yesterday. On that Ferris wheel, in your hotel room—you knew."

Griffin's expression remained frustratingly calm. "Would it matter if I said I didn't?"

"I don't believe you."

"That's your prerogative." He sighed, running a hand through his hair—a gesture so familiar from our night together that it made my chest ache. "What happened yesterday was... unexpected."

"Unexpected?" I laughed bitterly. "That's what you call sleeping with your fiancée's stepdaughter?"

"I call it a mistake."

The word landed like a slap. "Then why approach me tonight? Why not pretend we've never met?"

"Because you were ready to cause a scene." His voice hardened. "And unlike you, I understand what's at stake here."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Griffin moved closer, backing me against one of the stone planters. "It means I've worked too hard to let one impulsive night derail everything. Your stepmother—"

"What about her?" I interrupted. "Does she know her perfect fiancé was with me yesterday?"

Something flickered in his eyes—anger, perhaps, or warning. "Don't test me, Delilah. Don't test this situation."

"Or what? You'll tell her yourself? Go ahead."

His laugh was cold, nothing like the warm sound I remembered from yesterday. "You think anyone would believe you? The troubled stepdaughter, jealous of mommy's new man? Please."

I pushed against his chest, needing distance. "You're disgusting."

"And you're naive." He caught my wrist, his grip firm but not painful. "Listen carefully. Yesterday was a mistake—one I regret. What matters is my relationship with Celeste. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

"So I'm just supposed to pretend nothing happened? Sit across from you at family dinners and make small talk?"

"If you're smart." He released my wrist. "Don't take yourself too seriously, Delilah. You were a momentary distraction, nothing more."

The cruelty in his voice stunned me. This was not the man who had listened to my dreams, who had traced the constellation of freckles on my shoulder and named each one. This was someone else entirely.

"Get out," I whispered.

He stepped back, straightening his tie. "We understand each other, then."

"Perfectly." I fought back tears, refusing to let him see how deeply he'd hurt me. "You're exactly the kind of man Celeste would choose."

Something unreadable crossed his face, but he turned away before I could decipher it. At the door, he paused. "For what it's worth, I didn't know who you were on that Ferris wheel."

Then he was gone, leaving me alone with the moonlight and the suffocating scent of flowers.

---

I barely slept that night, my mind replaying Griffin's words over and over. By morning, anger had crystallized into resolve. I would not be dismissed, not by him or by Celeste.

Claire was already waiting at our old café when I arrived, two lattes on the table. One look at my face and she pushed both toward me.

"That bad?"

I sank into the chair across from her. "Remember when I went to Coney Island yesterday?"

She nodded.

"I met someone. We spent the day together, and the night." I swallowed hard. "It was Griffin."

Claire's eyes widened. "Holy shit."

"He claims he didn't know who I was."

"Do you believe him?"

I stared out the window at the busy street. "I don't know what to believe anymore."

Claire reached across the table, squeezing my hand. "What are you going to do?"

"Tell the truth. Celeste needs to know what kind of man she's marrying."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Claire looked concerned. "Celeste isn't exactly your biggest fan."

"This isn't about our relationship. It's about—"

My phone buzzed with a text from my father: *Family brunch. Home in an hour. Non-negotiable.*

"Speak of the devil," I muttered, showing Claire the message.

"Perfect opportunity," she said, though she didn't sound convinced. "Just... be careful, Dee. You know how Celeste can twist things."

---

The dining room was bathed in late morning light when I arrived. My father sat at the head of the table, Celeste to his right, Griffin to his left. The picture-perfect family I was about to shatter.

"There she is," my father said warmly. "We were just discussing Griffin's proposal. Quite romantic, according to your mother."

"Stepmother," I corrected automatically, taking the seat opposite Celeste.

Celeste's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Semantics, darling. We're all family here."

The meal progressed with excruciating slowness. I picked at my food while Celeste dominated the conversation, detailing their wedding plans. December at the Plaza. Three hundred guests. A custom Vera Wang gown.

Griffin caught my eye once, a warning in his gaze. I looked away, gathering my courage.

"Actually," I said during a lull, "there's something I think we should discuss."

My father looked up, surprised at my interruption. "What is it, sweetheart?"

I took a deep breath. "It's about Griffin and—"

"Oh!" Celeste cut me off. "Before I forget, Robert, did you tell Delilah about the foundation gala next week? We'll need her there."

"I was speaking," I said firmly.

Celeste's smile was glacial. "Were you? I'm sorry, it's just that you've been so quiet all morning. What did you want to say?"

All eyes turned to me. This was my moment. "Griffin and I have met before. Yesterday, actually."

A beat of silence. Griffin's expression remained neutral, but I saw the tension in his shoulders.

"Oh?" Celeste tilted her head. "Where was this?"

"Coney Island. We spent the day together. And the night." I kept my eyes on Celeste, refusing to look at my father or Griffin. "He didn't mention he was engaged. To you."

I expected shock, anger, tears—any normal reaction to learning your fiancé had been unfaithful. Instead, Celeste laughed. A full, genuine laugh that chilled me to the bone.

"Oh, Delilah." She shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Is this really how far you'll go? Inventing affairs with my fiancé?"

"I'm not inventing anything. Ask him."

All eyes turned to Griffin, who looked appropriately bewildered. "I was in Boston yesterday, meeting with investors. I flew back this morning for the party."

My mouth fell open. "That's a lie."

"Delilah," my father said, his voice tight with embarrassment. "That's enough."

"No, it's not!" I turned to Griffin. "Tell them the truth!"

Griffin's expression was one of perfect concern. "I'm worried about you, Delilah. This isn't rational behavior."

"Don't gaslight me!" I stood up so quickly my chair toppled backward. "You know what happened."

Celeste rose gracefully, approaching me with the air of someone dealing with a volatile child. "Darling, I understand this is difficult. A new man in my life, changes to your family structure..."

"This has nothing to do with—"

"You want my attention," she continued smoothly. "You always have. But trying to seduce my fiancé—even just in your imagination—crosses a line."

"I didn't—"

"It's sad, really." Celeste turned to my father. "Robert, I think Delilah might need help. Real help."

My father looked torn, his gaze moving between us. "Delilah, maybe you should rest. We can talk about this later."

"There's nothing to talk about!" I was nearly shouting now. "He's lying to all of you!"

Griffin stood, his voice gentle. "Celeste, maybe I should go. Give you all some family time."

He moved to her side, taking her hand. The gesture was so tender, so convincing, that for a moment even I questioned my sanity.

"No need," Celeste said. "Delilah was just leaving."

"This is my home too," I protested.

"Is it?" Celeste raised an eyebrow. "You've made it clear how little you want to be here. Perhaps it's best if you return to your life in the city. Your real life."

I looked to my father, hoping for support, but found only discomfort and confusion on his face. Griffin watched me with perfect composure, his eyes giving away nothing.

"You won't get away with this," I said, my voice shaking.

Celeste's smile was triumphant. "Darling, I already have."