by Kris Jayne
The shame of possibly being ghosted evaporated. Yes, it meant he could avoid facing me in daylight hours, but fleeing to the other side the country with the story of a sick parent seemed extreme—even for Griffin.
The graveled timber of his voice claimed my attention again. “I think his wife exaggerated how sick he was. I’m still figuring that out.”
“Why would she do that?”
Griffin’s eyes danced in a circle. “To get me here.”
“Well, he is in the hospital. How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”
“Him? Five years. But them, together, seven. And,” he paused and heaved a sigh, “I’d never met their kids.”
“You have half-siblings? Boys? Girls?” He’d never mentioned that his father and the new wife had children.
“One of each. Grace is six. Gregory Jr. is three.”
“And you’ve never met them?” I struggled to keep the judgment from my voice. After all, not everyone had a Brady Bunch family dynamic. I should know.
His father called the office a few times. The elder Kelso had a brusque, exacting manner, and the calls were all business. Their communication never showed much warmth or even interest. From the sound of it, the new wife was a primary reason. The awkwardness of your father being with someone so much younger had to wear on you.
With the age difference between Griffin and me, what would Katerina think? I cringed at my own cradle robbing. But then, I wasn’t going to be making brand new babies with him that were decades younger than her.
Griffin shook his head in response to my question. “I haven’t met them. It’s complicated.” The screen froze for a moment on the strain pulling at Griffin’s eyes and pixelated, then the sound picked up mid-sentence. “…in college.”
“Sorry, you broke up.”
“You are?…Oh, you…thanks.” His voice dropped low, and his distracted gaze flew up and away. “Hold on. I’m in my dad’s hospital room, and they took him for tests. It sounds like they’re coming back.”
A jangle of noise poured from my phone—including the screaming of young kids.
A woman’s voice rose above. “Quiet. Grace. Gregory. Be quiet, please.”
Griffin broke in, “Sorry. It’s Marisa, my dad’s wife, and the kids. Hold on.”
His glance shifted over the screen, but he kept talking. “I thought they were bringing Dad back in.”
“No,” the high-pitched female voice whined. “I stopped at the nurse’s station. It’s going to be another twenty minutes. But if you need to go back to your girlfriend or whatever, then go.”
The blush started on Griffin’s neck then slipped up to his cheeks. His eyes darted back to his phone, and he smiled. “Well, I guess I have permission to come back.”
“Am I the girlfriend? Fascinating.” Pleasure fluttered in my chest even though I figured he probably didn’t want to tell his family he’d ducked out of his one-night stand to fly home. Girlfriend sounded better.
A cackle popped in the background. “She doesn’t know she’s your girlfriend? Boy, it has been a long time since I’ve seen you if you’re losing your game like that, Griff.”
His lips formed a tight line.
Griff? Did they know each other that well?
“Are you coming back today?” I asked. Joking about being his girlfriend no longer seemed as funny for some reason.
He tugged at the back of his neck, and the elbow of his free arm swung toward the screen. “I didn’t want to leave until Dad got back to the room.”
“There’s no rush. Katerina and her boyfriend will be here tomorrow. They’re staying through New Year’s. Be with your family. I understand. Don’t stress yourself out.” I reminded myself that we didn’t have a commitment. As wonderful as the night had been and as much as I had hoped to wake up with him, he didn’t owe me anything.
Griffin’s face softened. “Seeing you would not be stressful.”
“Can I see?” A flash of dark brown hair and a chubby cheek popped in the corner of the screen.
“Grace. Leave him alone. He’s talking to his girlfriend,” the woman, presumably Marisa, said.
There was no mistaking the bit of stank on the last word as if it were sour milk in her mouth.
“Come here.” Griffin waved a hand and tilted the phone as the young girl climbed onto the bench next to him. “This is my…Grace. She’s six.”
The little girl was beautiful—big, round, green eyes and a tiny Christmas sticker on her face.
I gave a tight wave with my fingertips. “Hi, Grace. I’m Delilah.”
“You’re my brother’s girlfriend,” she said with such declaration I couldn’t argue even if I wanted to, which I found that I didn’t. What that meant, I wasn’t sure, but I liked it, nonetheless.
I laughed. “Sure.”
Griffin chuckled and tapped an index finger on the girl’s nose. “Well, that makes this whole trip worth it to get that settled. You might have earned another Christmas present, Grace.”
She beamed. “I like presents.”
The shrill voice flew over again. “Every kid likes presents. Bribery is easy. Grace, let’s go. We’ll come back in when Daddy comes back. We should let Griffin and Delilah have their privacy.”
After another rustle of noise, they were gone.
“I didn’t get to meet Marisa,” I said.
“You didn’t miss much,” he grumbled.
“You don’t like her.”
“Of course not.”
“Does she like you?”
He sighed. “Who knows.”
“She called you ‘Griff.’”
His face tensed. “She’s called me that since college.”
“You knew each other in college?”
“That’s right…you didn’t…the connection dropped out.” He blinked rapidly and sighed again. “Yes, I knew her in college.”
“That’s extra awkward. Duke, right?” I knew where he went to school. I didn’t need confirmation, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“Yes. It is. My dad and I have never had the best relationship. And…”
He hesitated, and I cut him off to fill in the rest. “And his marrying someone your age doesn’t help—especially a college friend.”
“Yes,” he paused. “Exactly.”
Griffin’s being upset made sense, but still, to be so mad that you refused to go home or to even meet your siblings seemed childish. “At least you’ve met your sister and your brother now. Grace is adorable.”
“She is, isn’t she?” His brow arched as his smiled. “She was excited to meet me. I think she’s fascinated by having a big brother.”
“Someone must have told her all about you.”
“Yes. That’s…unexpected.”
“Maybe Marisa?” I asked. “It could be a blessing. Maybe you can find some peace with your dad and get to know the children.”
A dour shadow crossed Griffin’s face. However much he hated his stepmother—for lack of a better word—it must have been important to her that Griffin be there. She couldn’t be all bad.
“Sure. She’s an angel,” he snorted. “Regardless, I feel like a heel for staying away this long. I mean, I always sent presents and cards and all that.”
The presents without presence must be what irked their mother. That would explain her bribery comment. I knew how it was to have someone think money and baubles could make up for not being there.
My mother, Zola, used to do the same thing to me when I was little. I lived with Papa and Mama Warren because, between drug binges and aborted attempts at rehab, she preferred to flit around the world with boyfriends doing God-only-knew. She’d send gifts or show up only long enough to drop them off before leaving again. Finally, when I was sixteen, I told her how I felt about all that, so she stopped sending the presents. We didn’t speak again until my college graduation, and that had been a disaster.
Family could certainly let you down.
Griffin told me about his mother lea
ving on Christmas Eve when he was a kid and how much he hated the holidays. Now, another piece of why he avoided his family and preferred to work or fly off to the beach fell into place.
“Now, you can do more than send gifts, and maybe work things through with your father,” I suggested.
“My dad and I know where we stand with each other—” Griffin began before a thump and chatter interrupted him. “Hold on.”
He spoke to what sounded like a nurse who told him his father would be back in a few minutes along with the cardiologist.
“As soon as he comes back, I’ll talk to him and, hopefully, the doctor. Then, I’ll be able to tell if I can get out of here today.”
“You should stay for a few days,” I said. “Besides, that would give me time to finish up my proposal for your business launch. I think I promised to get that back to you by the twenty-eighth. Isn’t that when we were supposed to have our meeting?”
I hoped the business talk might deflect from my interference. As much as I felt compelled to speak up, his family wasn’t my business. Besides, I had promised to help him organize his plans for his new company so he could be ready to leave his job and start his new venture. Business had been the reason we reconnected in the first place—not doing the naked mambo.
My skin burned remembering how easily I slid into bed with him yesterday. Mixing business and pleasure was the sort of epic mistake I would normally be too responsible to make. Something about him short-circuited my good sense.
Griffin nodded. “We said the twenty-eighth.”
“Do what you need with your family. I’ll work. We can talk when you get back.”
“My goal wasn’t to have you doing my work for me. I’m going to avoid being high maintenance, remember?”
I rolled my eyes, more at myself than him. I’d accused him of being too much work when I was his executive assistant. Now, I felt guilty.
He continued. “I was looking forward to spending the rest of the holiday with you—and not to talk business. I thought you were my girlfriend now.” His lips slanted into a weak smile.
My skin tingled, but I ignored the girlfriend remark. “If I had a chance to work through things with my mom or connect with new family, I would.”
Practically speaking, Katerina was all the family I had left.
“You’ve never talked about your mom, only your grandparents. Do you ever see her?” Griffin asked.
“No. I haven’t seen her since my grandfather’s funeral six and a half years ago. That was the first time she met my ex-husband and Kat. She didn’t even come back for my grandmother’s funeral a couple of years ago.”
“She didn’t come to your wedding?” Griffin asked.
“I didn’t invite her. My mother has a drug history. When I was little and she would visit, sometimes she wouldn’t be in her right mind. I didn’t want a scene at my wedding.”
Not like the one she had at my college graduation party. She’d shown up high, we’d fought, and then, she passed out in the bathroom. We got her awake, but one of the church deacons had to carry her to the car and then take her to the E.R.
When it came time to plan my wedding, I couldn’t take a chance. Visions of her downing champagne on top of whatever other substances she’d ingested and poking fun at my ex-mother-in-law swam in my head. Admittedly, Eniola Johnston was the most uptight woman on the planet. At least with my mother absent, all the dowager Mrs. Johnston could find fault with on my side of the aisle were my working-class grandparents and country cousins and that I was named after a famous Biblical trollop. Also, mostly egregiously, that there was no father of the bride. Zola couldn’t even tell me who that was.
Sympathy took Griffin’s voice to a lower register. “I’m sorry. I know how it is to want a normal family without all the drama. Unfortunately, family involves other people you can’t control.”
“True. Why can’t people behave exactly the way I want them to 24/7/365? So rude.” I forced a laugh.
Griffin wagged a finger at his screen. “You keep people pretty in line. It’s one of the reasons I’d love to meet this daughter of yours.”
“To see how I’ve screwed her up with my controlling ways?” I quipped.
“To see how extraordinary she has to be with you as a mother.”
Pride swelled my chest, but I raised a brow. “Wow. You’re pouring it on thick.”
“I mean it. You’re an amazing person.”
His compliment left me speechless and uncomfortable but pleased down to my toes.
Griffin glanced up. “I hear the nurse again. His tests must be done.”
“You need to go.”
He sighed. “I do. And you’re right. Maybe I should stay for a few days. Today is Gregory Jr.’s birthday. I was promised cake.”
I grinned. “See? Stay and have cake.”
“It’s not going to be as good as the German chocolate cake you made yesterday.”
With the steady flow of compliments, I wondered if my head still fit on the tiny phone screen. “You don’t know that.”
“I’m sure it won’t be,” he replied.
“Anyway, I’ll send you the proposal by the twenty-eighth. We can discuss it whenever you get back.”
“I’ll be back in Dallas by New Year’s for sure. I’m putting my application in now for a midnight kiss.”
My belly clenched. “I’m your girlfriend, remember? No need to apply.”
“I wouldn’t want to presume. We haven’t exactly discussed this.” He swiveled a finger between his phone camera and his broad chest.
I couldn’t keep a smile from sweeping my face. “We can talk about it when you get here.”
“Perfect.”
“Enjoy your family,” I ordered.
He twisted his handsome face into a grimace.
“Try,” I said.
“For you, I will try.”
A strange tension eased from my shoulders as he promised to set a new course with his family, and we said goodbye. The details of why it mattered eluded me, but I sent a silent thank you to Griffin’s young stepmother for getting him to visit—whatever her reasons.
Chapter 3
Griffin
With my decision to stay in Raleigh, I had to find a place to hunker down for the night. I planned to grab dinner and get a hotel room. However, Grace somehow extracted a promise from me to get up early and make pancakes with her in the morning. Then, Marisa suggested instead of getting a hotel, I stay in a guest room at the house. Grace’s face lit up like the tree at Rockefeller Center, and I was stuck.
Whatever. It would only be a couple of days, and if I could get through that, I could declare myself on my way to being over the shitshows of Christmas past.
That’s what I repeated to myself as I stepped onto the walnut and maple parquet floor in the entry hall of my childhood home. The last time I stood there was seven years ago on Christmas morning. I had flown in from New York, where I was working at the time.
Staring through the round, Asian-styled entrance to the formal living room, I could mentally trace my steps across the expanse of red and gold carpet to the short hall that led to the kitchen and casual family room at the rear of the house. Seven years ago, I’d sauntered back there, whistling and checking my watch. An earlier flight had delivered me in time to make sure I could slip Dad’s present under the tree before he got up. I’d arranged a special surprise to impress him.
As I had cut through the kitchen, there she’d been.
Marisa had stood at the kitchen counter in a nightgown and silk robe, sipping a cup of coffee. I remember how she froze with the steaming mug pressed against her lips, her eyes growing wider and wider.
My legs turned statuary.
We just stared at each other. It might have only been a minute or two, but it felt like a century.
She spoke first. “You aren’t s-supposed to b-be here.”
Her stuttered declaration woke me out of my stupor.
“I’m not supposed to be here? T
his is my home. You’re not supposed to be here. What are you doing here?”
She lowered the mug to the counter, splaying her hands flat on the granite. “I live here. This is my home now, too.”
“What are you talking about? I know you were having trouble finding a place close to the newspaper offices. I mean, did Dad feel sorry for you and let you move in here?”
Marisa worked as a newsroom gopher and sometimes reporter for the local paper. She wanted to be close to work but had said she couldn’t afford a decent apartment downtown.
That had to be it—even though the house was still a decent commute into the center of the city. My mind and my voice strained for a reason my ex-girlfriend was standing there in her nightclothes.
In my father’s house.
The woman I dated all through college and for three years afterward. My girlfriend who accompanied me to fraternity formals and sat next to me at basketball games and painted Blue Devils on my face. The girl I met at my first college party and made out with at my second. The fourth woman I’d ever had sex with and, at one point in my life, the one whom I’d hoped would be the last.
The woman whom I proposed to two years before and who shot me down in such stern and dismissive fashion, it shook my confidence to that day. That shitty day when I stood on there with the disbelief in my voice echoing off the ceramic tile.
“Wait here,” she said and clutched her robe around her, as if her naked body were a mystery to me, and hurried toward the back stairs leading to the family’s second-floor bedrooms. Guest bedrooms were off the entryway in the front of the house.
She didn’t make it all the way upstairs before I heard Dad.
“I thought you were bringing coffee back to bed, sweetheart.”
His voice, still grumbled with sleep, lilted with unfamiliar warmth around the endearment and sent my sad airline breakfast screaming back up my esophagus.
I swallowed hard, stretching my mind back day by day prior to that moment and over all the times I’d had with each of them in the past few months. Especially with Marisa.
Sweetheart?
“What the fuck?” I shouted the question.
They descended the stairs together. Dad placed his hand on the small of her back and straightened his shoulders. “You weren’t supposed to be here until noon.”