“I’m the whole freaking drawer of silverware, Reed. But you’re welcome to the couch.”

They both turned toward what could only be described as a loveseat, and a miniature one at that.

Griffin shrugged. “Works for me.” He walked over to what was about to become his makeshift bed and collapsed onto one of the cushions and crossed his arms. “So, are we, like, supposed to talk about our feelings and solve each other’s problems and shit?” he asked.

Noah opened the drawer in the dresser that housed the extra linens and then grabbed a pillow from the bed, chucking the whole pile at Griffin.

“Nope,” Noah said.

Griffin nodded. “I like the way you think. But can I offer one piece of advice?”

Noah shook his head. “You’re going to give it to me anyway, though. Right?”

Griffin smiled. “Looks like you got me all figured out, Keating. All I’m going to say is this—don’t hide anything from her. Put it all out there, all your cards on the table. That’s the only way she’s going to know how you really feel, and it’s the only way she’s going to trust that even when you fuck up, you really do love her and want her to go to Washington with you because a year without her, even if it means chasing a dream, will be a fucking nightmare.”

Noah ran a hand through his hair.

“Are you drunk?” he asked.

“Maybe a little. I had a couple drinks and considered sleeping in the lobby when I decided this might be the less humiliating of the two choices.”

Noah couldn’t help it. He laughed.

“How are you feeling about your choice right now?” he asked.

Griffin pursed his lips. “Jury’s still out.”

Noah leaned on the edge of the bed.

“I’ll tell her how I feel,” he said. “But I’m not sure that’s enough to fix me ruining our engagement.”

Griffin hissed in a breath. “How’d you do that?”

Noah sighed. “By just being me,” he said.

He reached for the lamp on the side table and clicked it off. Then he sank down onto the bed, still in his clothes but too wiped out to give a shit.

“You should take your own advice,” he told Griffin. “Sounds like you still have a lot to say to Maggie.”

Noah listened as Griffin positioned himself on what had to be the worst excuse for a bed, but he guessed it was a step above the lobby.

“Wise words,” Griffin said. “Wise words.”

Noah chuckled and closed his eyes.

“Good talk, Keating,” Griffin added through a yawn.

“Good talk, Reed.”

And it kind of was, though Noah was sure neither would admit it to anyone outside that room.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Maggie

Jet lag had finally won, and Maggie was more than willing to succumb. Her will was nothing against the weight of her eyelids. So what if she didn’t know where Griffin had been for the past hour or if he was coming back.

“I need to clear my head,” he’d told her after they walked back to the hotel. Maggie had known Greece would be an adventure, but she couldn’t have anticipated a journey that started with her and Griffin—the whole future in their hands—and would end with them poised for a year apart.

Ugh. The more she thought about it, the heavier her heart became. It was as if it had to work harder to beat against the ache. How would they enjoy whatever time they had left when she knew he was leaving?

Her eyes were open again, and she fought to shut out the world, or at least the room she was supposed to share with the man she loved. Instead she was curled up on her side alone, her body the perfect shape to fit against his, but Griffin wasn’t there.

A knock sounded on the door, and for a second her heart raced until she remembered Griffin had his room key. Who the hell was here at this time of night?

Maggie trudged to the door and rested her eye against the peephole.

Miles winked, as if he could see her peering at him. He was still in his clothes from the plane, and Maggie realized she hadn’t heard from him since he’d texted hours ago about being with Alex.

She threw open the door, ready to launch the inquisition, when she found Jordan standing next to him.

“Okay. What’s going on?” Maggie asked.

Miles crossed his arms and nodded at Jordan. “You first,” he said. “I have a feeling this is going to be interesting.”

Jordan bit her lip. “Ummm…since Griffin is crashing with Noah, I thought I might crash here?”

“Griffin’s crashing with Noah?” Miles asked.

“On your engagement night?” Maggie added. At least she knew where he was now, and that he was safe.

Miles’s eyes widened. “I missed an engagement?” He grabbed Jordan’s hand and put the other on Maggie’s shoulder, nudging one girl backward as he tugged the other into the room with him. “We need a pint of Ben and Jerry’s or something. Do they sell that here?”

Maggie walked to a large gift basket sitting on the dresser.

“No ice cream,” she said. “But we have whatever’s in here.” She rummaged through the various wrapped but obviously homemade treats that had been left for all the out-of-towners at the check-in desk. “These look like a great way to eat our feelings, yes?” Maggie held up a cellophane-covered plate of what looked like small snowballs.

“Shit,” Miles whispered, and Maggie raised her brows.

“Spill it, Parker. Sounds like you have some feelings that need to be eaten, too.”

Miles snatched the goodies from her outstretched hand and carried the plate to the bed where he kicked off his shoes and positioned himself cross-legged next to the girls.

“These…” Miles removed the wrapping from the plate and popped one of the small snowballs into his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut, and he groaned. “Are Kourabiedes.”

Maggie and Jordan just stared as the man in front of them seemed to have some sort of sensual experience with the food in his mouth.

“Jesus, Miles,” Maggie said. “It’s just a cookie.”

His eyes flew open.

“Just a cookie? Just a cookie, Mags? Taste one. Both of you get over here and taste one.”

Maggie and Jordan couldn’t help but obey. These were apparently some important cookies. They joined him on the bed, and each popped one of the small treats in her mouth.

Jordan let out a long, “Mmmmm,” while Maggie’s expression betrayed nothing of what she felt.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Miles asked. “You don’t like it?”

Maggie shook her head. “It’s not that.”

Ugh. Obviously both Miles and Jordan needed some sort of comfort of their own. Why else would they have shown up? But Maggie was in no position to make someone else feel better when she felt so crappy herself.

“Hey,” Miles said, his voice soft and gentle, as if he’d heard her inner monologue and knew that whatever he needed her for, maybe right now she needed him a little bit more. “It’s okay, Mags.” He grabbed her hand between his and kissed her knuckles. “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”

Maggie pressed her lips together and forced a smile while Jordan popped another cookie into her mouth.

“I’m listening,” Jordan said. “Just burying my emotions in powdered sugar.” She squeezed Maggie’s knee. “How about you go first, then, Miles?”

“Like a circle of sharing or something?” he asked. “I dig it.” He rose and padded over to the dresser until he found whatever he was looking for. Then he joined the two girls on the bed again. “Here.” He handed Maggie a miniature bottle of ouzo. “Like Lord of the Flies. Our own version of the conch shell. Whoever has the ouzo has the floor. All others shall remain quiet.”

Jordan held up a third cookie. “Sucks to your ass-mar!” Then she popped it into her mouth.

Miles narrowed his eyes at her.

“Sorry,” Jordan said. “Couldn’t help it. Maggie has the conch.”

“Fine,” Maggie said. “I’ll do this on one condition. No advice or trying to solve anyone else’s problems until we’ve all had the floor to air our grievances.”