Page 65 of The Triple Play

GRIFF

“This is ridiculous. Just go inside. Stop being a coward,” I mutter to myself as I shift back and forth on my feet, standing on the sidewalk out front of Olivia’s apartment building. If anyone I know sees me, they’ll think I’ve lost it. And maybe I have. I’m not the guy who gets nervous. I don’t let myself get in situations where I don’t feel in control.

Until now.

Part of me isn’t convinced Olivia understood what we were saying at the diner the other day. I have this niggling feeling that she’s only in this for sex. For fun, as she kept saying.

But Foxxy and I want more than that, which is something I still have a hard time believing about myself. Me, the guy who doesn’t know shit about being in a relationship, is suddenly in one with two other people?

At least, I think I am. Jury’s still out on what Liv thinks is happening. I’m hoping that spending more time together will make it clear to her what we want.

Assuming I can figure out what to do to make it clear, that is.

I stare down at the jigsaw puzzle I’m gripping in my hands. It arrived yesterday, just in time for the hike Olivia and I had planned for today. My plan was to give her the puzzle, then we’ll hit a local trail before coming back here for dinner.

From my pocket, my phone vibrates with an incoming message. Muffling a curse, I pull it out and look at the screen, only for my next word to not be so muffled.

“Shit.”

OLIVIA: Hey Griffin, I’m sorry to do this but I woke up not feeling well today. Can we reschedule?

I shove the puzzle under my arm so my hands are free and type out a quick reply as I stride to the front door of her building.

GRIFFIN: I’m already here. Sorry you aren’t feeling well, can I come up anyway? I have something for you

The dots appear and disappear several times before she finally replies.

OLIVIA: Okay

The door buzzes and I yank it open, forgoing the elevator and jogging up the stairs instead. I’m breathing heavily by the time I reach Olivia’s floor and take a minute to try and settle myself before I knock on her door. From inside, I hear a quiet “come in,” so I push the door open.

Trip comes bouncing over, and I bend down to pet him before closing the door behind me and walking into the apartment.

Olivia’s curled up in a ball on her couch, and she looks miserable. Trip follows me over and hops up on the couch, tucking his body into the crook of her legs and resting his head on her hip with a sigh.

The endearment slips out before I can overthink it. “Oh baby,” I murmur as I drop down beside her, putting the puzzle down on the floor. My hand goes to her forehead, partly to stroke her hair, and partly to see if she’s warm. She’s not, thank god.

“I’m sorry about today,” she whispers, picking at the blanket draped over her. Then she grimaces, and her hand goes to her stomach.

Oh. Oh.

I grew up with a little sister who never hid anything from me when it came to her cycle. When I was a teenager, I thought it was gross, but once I matured, I realized she did me a favour. Men need to understand what women go through every goddamn month. We need to respect the shit out of women who suffer just so the human race can go on.

Witnessing Janey’s period opened my eyes to how awful it can be. And I recognize that same misery in Olivia right now.

“Do you have a heating pad?” I ask quietly, laying my hand over hers. Liv’s eyes widen at my question and my touch, and she shakes her head. “Okay. We’ll get you one. Have you taken any painkillers?”

“Yeah, I’m waiting for them to kick in. Wait, how do you know it’s my period?”

I give her a small grin. “My sister.” I stand up, then lean down and kiss the top of her head. “I’m going to make you some tea.”

While the kettle boils, I text Foxxy. I need him to hit the store for some stuff we need to help make Liv feel better.

I find the cupboard that holds all of Olivia’s different teas, and I have no clue which to choose. “Do you have a preference for what kind of tea?” I call out.

“Peppermint, please,” comes her pained reply. I find that one quickly enough and get it steeping before carrying the mug over and setting it on the table in front of her. Then I take my place at the other end of the couch, lift her feet into my lap, and start rubbing them.

Olivia shifts and stares at me from over the top of the blanket. “What are you doing?” She sounds truly confused, and it hits me in the heart. Has she never had anyone care for her when she has her period?