Page 81 of Grizz

I shrug, deliberately careless.“Just funny how he’s always…around.”

Her eyes narrow.“He’s my best friend.”

“Yeah,” I say, a little too offhand.“You’ve mentioned.”

She doesn’t let that slide.“Say it,” she says calmly.“Whatever you’re implying—just say it.”

I lean back, working a muscle in my cheek.“I just think it’s interesting that the guy who helped get you this job also gets front-row access to your life.Dinners.Drinks.Catch-ups.Feels… convenient.”

Her posture straightens.“Don’t do that,” she says.“Don’t reduce him to some ulterior-motive caricature just because you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” I lie.I’m so fucking uncomfortable because I don’t know how to handle all these feelings.

She gives me a look that tells me I’m bad at that.“Elias has been in my life for over a decade,” she continues, voice steady but firm.“He was there when I was broke, when I was figuring out who I was, when I got fired, when I moved to New York.He’s family to me.”

I open my mouth to argue.Close it again.

She doesn’t soften.“And if this”—she gestures loosely between us—“is going to work in any capacity, you don’t get to treat him like a threat.”

“I didn’t say he was a threat,” I mutter.

“You didn’t have to,” she says.“Your tone did it for you.”

The silence stretches, thick and prickly.I hate how exposed it makes me feel—how obvious my jealousy must be, how juvenile it sounds even in my own head.

She exhales, calmer now but no less resolved.“I’m not choosing between you and Elias.That’s not a choice I’ll ever make.”

“I’m not asking you to,” I say.

“Then don’t act like you are,” she replies.

I scrub a hand over my face, frustration and shame mixing.“I just don’t like the idea of you going to dinner with him while I’m gone.”

She studies me for a beat, then says, “That’s ayouproblem, Grizz.Not ameproblem.”

I wince.Because she’s right.

“And,” she adds, “I’m not going to shrink my world to make you feel more comfortable.”

“Okay,” I say finally.“Then what do you want me to do?”

She considers that.“Get to know him.Actually get to know him.”

I snort.“That sounds like a nightmare.”

She smiles, unfazed.“You’ll survive.”Then she tilts her head, eyes bright with a look that feels dangerously like determination.“I’m going to set up drinks for the three of us once you’re back in New York.”

I blink.“You’re serious.”

“Completely,” she says.“You don’t have to love him.You don’t even have to like him.But you do have to respect that he’s important to me.”

“And if I don’t?”I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Then we have a bigger problem,” she says.

I let out a slow breath.“Fine.Drinks.The three of us.”

Her smile returns.“Good.”