Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I should be nervous, even on edge with the two of them walking in on us like they did, but I’m not. What started as anxiety at first has turned quite calm since the introductions.
“Your mom and Will are,” Savvy shouts, running down the hall. Her feet stop so fast at the sight of us that she almost tips forward.
My mom asks, “Are what, dear?”
She grins, and I’ve never seen someone swallow a canary, but she seems to have the whole damn bird stuck in her throat. She coughs, glancing at me before replying, “Are here, Aunt Delancy.” Leaning forward, she gives her an air kiss. “How was your flight?”
Savvy is somehow the best and absolute worst actress ever. It’s either over-the-top dramatic or not bothering to even try. Although it’s usually entertaining and I love her dearly, she can’t seem to decide which she wants to be.
“Long. I’m going to take a short shower, have something small for dinner, and go to bed early tonight.” My mom likes to do things in littles—short, small, early. She claims it’s how she stays slim, ageless, and sharp. Despite her best efforts to convince me and Savvy to follow her path to success, we like to mix in some fun, drink on occasion, and stay up way past our bedtimes. Basically, the opposite of her advice. But it works well for her.
My mom looks around, then sets her eyes on me. “Before I retire for the evening, I was hoping to see my grandson.” Her eyes are set on mine, but all signs of life have left my body. From my lungs functioning to my heart beating, I’m frozen to the spot.
Will grins, entertained by my downfall. Savvy’s expression wreaks of the horror I feel inside. I don’t turn to look at Griffin. I can’t. What will he say? Seems like having a kid should have been a high priority to tell someone you’re sneaking off property to sleep with later. Yet it didn’t seem so obvious just a few minutes prior to this intrusion. Like Griffin said, we happened so fast. There was no time for logic or reason. Prudence was tossed out the window. I was running off lust and instincts for this man. Ugh. Look where that got me.
Will says, “Jacob, your son. My nephew. Where is he, Cricket?”
My gaze pivots to him and the asshole grin on his face. We’d been getting along so well, too, lately. Of course, he’s been in Europe for months. Distance always helps our relationship, but still . . .
When Savvy covers her face and turns away from witnessing this trainwreck, I face the collision head-on. Glancing up at Griffin, I say, “My son should be back soon from preschool.” I turn back to my mom. “Judy can bring him by to see you if you’d like.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m tired, so I’m going to stop in to see your father and then go home to rest.” She comes to me and gives me a hug. “Next time I return from a long trip, I’d like to see you and Jacob waiting to greet us.” She likes us all in a row—her staff, her kids, and now her grandchild.
My gut twists, not from her request, which is a little annoying, but from the music I’m about to have to face with Griffin. “Sure. Next time.”
William escorts my mom into the hallway, but calls back over his shoulder, pleased as punch, “See you around, sister dear.”
I stand where I was left, unable to bring myself to make any moves and steer well clear of any fast reactions. I let this new information simmer between us for a few seconds, thinking he might need the time to process the news.
So many questions populate my brain that I don’t know where to lend my focus. What does he think about me having a child? Does he want to date someone with a kid? He doesn’t come off like the type who wants a family, but would he want to be in his own child’s life?
I feel sick. Wrapping my arms over my stomach, I watch Savvy slip farther into the hallway. She says, “I’ll give you two some time to talk.”
Talking feels like the last thing I want to do, yet I know this is going to be the beginning of one of the most important conversations I’ll have in my life. As soon as she shuts the door, I say, “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”
“I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t.”
My heart sinks a bit. “Please don’t say that. You don’t owe me an apology, Griffin.”
“You don’t owe me one either.” He leans against the desk again, stretching his long legs in front of him. Taking me by the hand, he slowly brings me into the fold of his side. Kissing the side of my head, he asks, “So you’re a mom?”