The Mitchell Sisters: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by Samantha Christy

  He nods. “Set it up and let me know when. It’s a great idea, Skylar. Thanks.”

  I make a note in my phone to call the doctor’s office to make an appointment. In my phone, I see the reminder to reach out to Griffin’s dad. I turn to him. “Who called your dad? Was it one of Erin’s sisters? I tried to a few days ago, but all I could do was leave a message.”

  “I did,” he says.

  The look of surprise on my face makes him laugh. “You didn’t think I heard you that day in the hospital, did you?”

  “I wondered,” I say.

  “I did it for her. I’m not sure I ever would have done it otherwise. He was a jackass. A drunk. A loser. I mean, who checks out on their sick wife and fifteen-year-old son?”

  “But you did it anyway.” I smile at him. “Whatever the reason, you did it and now the door is open. He seems like a really nice guy. Obviously he’s changed, Griffin. I can tell he wants a relationship with you. I know it must have been hard for you to reach out to him. You did the right thing. You’re going to make a great father.”

  He eyes me speculatively. “I don’t know about that.” He motions to my belly. “I never wanted kids, you know. Erin spent years talking me into it. I did it for her.” He shakes his head as if something has dawned on him. “Everything I’ve done since high school has been for her.” The way he says it isn’t spiteful, just matter-of-fact.

  “Well, maybe it’s time you do something for yourself then,” I say.

  “Yeah, maybe. I just wish I had a goddamn clue about what that is.” He lowers his eyes to the ground and my heart sinks along with them.

  Did he just admit he doesn’t want me? The baby?

  As if hearing my silent questions, he looks back up at me. He puts his hand on top of mine. “Don’t read too much into that, Sky. I’m just trying to figure out which feelings I’m having are mine and which are Erin’s.”

  Feelings? He’s having feelings? I stare at his hand still resting on mine. I’m afraid if I move a muscle, he will withdraw it. And I really want it to stay where it is. I want to savor the feeling of the heat of his touch. The sensation of his large hand encompassing mine. The feeling that maybe he wants me, too. Even if only in some small way, tucked down deep under lock and key where it can’t hurt Erin.

  A door opens and he jerks his hand away. We both look up with guilty eyes as we stare at Erin’s smiling face as she comes across the threshold. Gavin looks happy, but utterly frazzled, walking next to her. He turns to her and says, “Go ahead.”

  She blurts out, “It’s a girl!”

  Everyone jumps to their feet with cheers and congratulations. We all share hugs and tears as we listen to Gavin and Erin tell us about the birth of Jordan Christine McBride. Sometime during all the elation, I notice Griffin’s eyes trained on my belly. When I catch him staring, he smiles up at me and gives me a nod. I could swear he says more with that nod than he ever has with words. I could swear he’s just told me he’s willing to try this. That after hearing the story of another baby entering the world, he can’t imagine not being present for his. That he may even be willing to put up with someone like me if it means making his wife as happy as she is in this very minute.

  Or maybe I’m just reading way too much into it.

  chapter seventeen

  The past three weeks have gone by fast. Too fast. It’s been a whirlwind of activity. So much has happened. A lifetime worth of experiences jammed into twenty-one days. Some days were better than others, and it amazes me what we were able to pull off with the help of friends, family and even strangers.

  I sit here in Erin’s newly-appointed room on the main floor of their townhouse. A study that Griffin turned into her bedroom when she stopped being able to climb stairs last week. We’ve tried to pretty it up with flowers. We’ve taped an endless stream of cards from her second-graders to the windows. We’ve put pictures of loved ones where she can see them. But you still have to call it what it is. It’s a makeshift hospital room. A place to succumb to her unrelenting disease. It’s where she’s going to die.

  I’m practically living at their house now, at Erin’s request. I try to give her and Griffin plenty of alone time; however, it’s me she wants to spend most of her days with. I hope Griffin doesn’t hold it against me or somehow think I’m trying to monopolize her time. But it’s an unspoken rule that Erin gets whatever she wants, so when the medical delivery guys were setting up her new room, I set up mine in the guest room down the hall from Griffin’s.

  It makes me wonder where we would live if we were to make a go of it. Could either one of us live in a house that bleeds Erin from every wall, decoration and tchotchke? I try not to think about it as I listen to Erin tell me stories of Griffin. It’s her favorite pastime these days. I think it’s her goal to tell me everything there is to know about her husband so I will know him as well as she does.

  We reminisce about the past few weeks and the wonderful things we’ve done such as her Parisian Imax experience, the red-carpet premier of a blockbuster movie that Gavin got us into, the exotic elephant ride, even a skydiving experience. No, we didn’t go up in an airplane, but we did get to experience a simulated sky dive. It was more of a vertical wind tunnel with air pushing you upwards so that you have the sensation of flying. Her doctors weren’t thrilled about it, as they said there would still be air pressure issues that could cause increased swelling, but at that point, Erin had already started the final decline in her health and figured it couldn’t make things worse. Watching her experience something she never thought she’d get to do was one of the highlights of my life. I will never forget these things we’ve done together. Griffin will make sure of it. I think he must have taken a thousand pictures over the past few weeks.

  Today she got a thank you note from the anonymous donation she made. Only the hospital knew who made the donation, so they were able to forward the note to her. Several weeks ago, when Baylor had little Jordan, there was a woman who was in labor with triplets. She was about to have a C-Section and we learned her husband had recently been laid off. Not only did Erin pay their hospital bills, she outfitted them well into their second year, paid for a year’s worth of diaper service, and set up a college fund for them. The pleasure I watched flow through her when she placed the phone calls to make it all happen is a memory I will keep with me forever. In typical Erin style, it was all about everyone but her. She didn’t want thanks, she didn’t seek acknowledgment. Just knowing she had made someone’s life better was all she needed. Little does she know, every day she’s around, she does that very thing.

  Sherry, Erin’s hospice nurse, comes in to get Erin ready for our outing. Sherry has been here for the past few days. We all know what that means. They don’t bring in hospice unless they think you are going pretty soon. Between Sherry, Griffin and I, one of us is always by Erin’s side.

  Erin has been confined to a wheelchair for the past few days. Her legs are too weak to hold her now-frail body. She can no longer control her bladder and her right hand stays curled up close to her body. Thank God she still has her mental faculties about her. Yes, she has moments of confusion and they do happen more and more, but for the most part, she’s still Erin. And she hasn’t detached from us yet so we’re making every second count. Sometimes she stares across the room, looking at nothing. She tires very easily and she keeps making mention of getting the baby’s room ready, something she completed last week. Griffin hired a decorator to cater to her every whim and it was touching to see all the effort she put into it.

  Nobody will come out and say it, but we’re all aware that today will most likely be the last time Erin ever sets foot outside her house. We’re going to my obstetrician’s office to have a 3-D ultrasound. Erin doesn’t know about it yet, it’s a surprise. Today is the day we find out if Bean is a boy or a girl.

  While Sherry gets Erin ready to go, I wander the walkout basement of the townhome. There’s a large sitting room next to the laundry area. It’s perfect for reading and
I’ve spent a lot of time down here when I’m not with Erin. But the most interesting part of the lower level is Griffin’s photography studio. It’s truly remarkable. Lining the walls are numerous pictures he’s taken over the years; photos depicting animals in the Congo, architectural masterpieces, and famous bridges. The man is as talented as he is gorgeous. Conspicuously absent are pictures of models he has photographed. You won’t find any pictures of women lining these walls, not unless they are Erin.

  Or apparently, me.

  With my mouth hanging open, I walk towards a wall that displays the pictures he’s recently taken. They are held up by a massive system of clips, allowing him to see many at a time. I presume this is where he puts his work while he decides which pictures to use professionally. It’s one gigantic display board.

  Hanging on the board are pictures from the picnic in Central Park. But what surprises me is the number of pictures he took of me. They are so intimate. I remember being exhausted after our shopping spree that morning and I had wandered off to lie on a grassy mound. Little did I know he had taken a picture of me, hand on my belly, looking up at the sky as if I didn’t have a care in the world. Another picture was shot when I was watching Erin talk with her favorite teacher. A third shows me standing with my eyes closed, absorbing the mid-afternoon sun on my face on the unseasonably-mild October day. I look over the dozens of others and realize in each picture I’m touching my baby bump. I didn’t even know I did that. And I certainly didn’t know anyone was noticing. I wonder what he was thinking when he took these.

  “That one is my favorite.”

  I jump at Griffin’s words. He must have snuck up behind me and I momentarily wonder how long he was standing there while I was mesmerized by his photos.

  “They are wonderful, Griffin. I didn’t know you were taking them.”

  He looks embarrassed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to spy on you that day. You just looked happy. It was a good day and I wanted us to remember all of it. I hope you don’t think I’m creepy.”

  I laugh. “No, not creepy. Just incredibly talented.”

  He nods. Then he walks to a drawer and opens it, pulling out a stack of photos. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He hands them to me.

  I look through the photos of father and son that I took of Griffin and Jack Pearce. They captured exactly what I’d intended, his father’s pure joy of being able to see his son again. “Thanks. I needed to see this,” he says. I smile at him until he holds up a hand to scold me. “Now if you ever touch my equipment again, I will cut off your right arm. Nobody touches my shit, Sky.”

  I give him a sheepish look and shrug my shoulders, as I secretly love the way he uses my nickname.

  “But listen, seriously, I have so much to thank you for. These past weeks. Hell, these past months, despite the situation, they’ve been the happiest months of her life. You know I was actually jealous of all the time she was spending with you. I mean, before you it was just Erin and me. Then you entered the picture and it was like she found the other half of herself. You represent everything she’s always wanted but was afraid to be. It sounds corny, but you complete her. And I’m so grateful for you, Skylar. You’ll never know how much.”

  He leans in to hug me and I melt into his arms. I let tears stream down my face at his words. Everything I feared; everything I wondered about; everything I second-guessed—he’s somehow . . . validated my life. And for a split second, I wonder if I believe in fate. Maybe Erin was right. Maybe I was put on this earth to find her and become her friend so we could have this time together. Maybe what I’ve been doing is . . . meaningful.

  Sherry shouts down that they’re ready to go and he releases me. Then he kisses me on the cheek and my heart flutters. My eyes briefly close and I try to enjoy the sensation without feeling the guilt that usually follows. “Let’s do this,” he says. I nod my head, reeling over the words that have come to mean so much more than when I first said them over six months ago.

  ~ ~ ~

  There’s not a dry eye in the room. Even the ultrasound tech picked up on what’s going on and is silently crying with us. Four pairs of eyes are focused on one tiny baby on the screen. It’s incredible what you can see on the 3-D ultrasound. I had no idea that at eighteen weeks, the baby would be this perfectly-formed tiny human. All it does for the next 22 weeks is grow bigger. Every finger, every toe, every curve of his face is already in place. And when the screen fills with Bean’s boy parts, Erin screams out.

  “I knew it!” she cries. “It’s a boy. You’re having a boy.”

  I grab her hand. “We’re having a boy.”

  She nods her head, eyes still glued to the monitor as we watch him squirm about. At one point, it looks like he’s even sucking his thumb. I’m grateful the ultrasound tech allows us to watch much longer than I’m sure is the normal time for the procedure.

  “We should name him after you, Erin,” I say, squeezing her hand.

  “What? You can’t name a boy after me.”

  “Sure we can. A-a-r-o-n,” I spell it out for her. “It’s perfect.”

  Her eyes finally snap away from the monitor to meet up with mine. Her hand goes over her heart and the look of gratitude on her face overwhelms me. Then she sighs. “No. You can’t. It’s morbid. You’d think of me every time you call his name.”

  I laugh as I look between Griffin and Erin. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point. I want to think of you. You are the best friend and best wife anyone could ever ask for. You would have been the best mother, too. Everyone knows that. You are the reason for all of this. He wouldn’t even exist without you. He may be growing inside me, but he’s your creation. Of course I want to name him after you. That is, if you guys agree.”

  She looks at Griffin who winks at her. Then she puts a hand on my tummy while she looks back at the monitor. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aaron Pearce.”

  Even though I’m sobbing with everyone in the room, I don’t miss how she assigns him Griffin’s last name. I peek at Griffin who, no doubt, heard the same thing. He shrugs it off and proceeds to plant a kiss on Erin’s head. Then he puts his hand on top of hers as they both rest on the side of my belly, out of the way of the ultrasound wand as we enjoy a few more moments with our son.

  Our son.

  Holy mother of God. I’m going to have a baby.

  ~ ~ ~

  When we arrive back at the townhouse, Griffin carries Erin effortlessly up the front steps and into her new bedroom. I don’t miss her look of longing as she passes through the front door. She knows it’s the last time it will happen. She clutches onto a few pictures the technician printed out for her as he lays her down on the hospital bed.

  More flowers have been delivered in our absence. It’s become somewhat of a private joke between Erin and me that nobody else has been bold enough to send her white lilies. The sympathy flower. The flower of death. Not even Griffin will bring them. He chooses the more traditional roses, and sometimes orchids, like Baylor. Not me. I’ll never get her anything but white lilies.

  An hour after arriving home, Baylor and Mason show up at the townhouse, and along with Erin, they send Griffin and I on pointless errands with strict instructions not to return home until asked. I’m not sure why we’ve been kicked out, because none of them would discuss it. The only thing I can think of is that Erin is enlisting the help of those closest to Griffin and me so they can carry on her mission once she’s gone.

  Shortly after dark, Griffin and I are beckoned home. Erin calls me into her room. She’s got that look on her face. I know that look. This is it. This is when she’s going to ask what my plans are. This is when I’m going to break her heart because I don’t know in all certainty what the future holds. This is when we have a heart-to-heart for quite possibly the very last time.

  She pats the bed next to where she reclines. I climb on and lie down with her, silent tears welling up in my eyes when I hear her wince in pain next to me. We do this every night after she has her glass of wine on the p
atio. We lie here like teenagers at a slumber party, talking about everything and anything. Well, except that one thing.

  “Do we have to do this now?” I ask, like a petulant child.

  She smiles at me like an all-knowing mother. “It’s now or never.”

  My heart sinks at her declaration. “You know I love you, right, Erin? You know I’d do anything for you and I want to do this. I really do, I just need to know I’m doing it for the right reasons.”

  “Disney World,” she says randomly.

  I shake my head, thinking she’s gone into another state of confusion. “Disney World?” I repeat.

  “Take Aaron there. Don’t wait. Take him when he’s little. It will be magical to watch his face light up when he sees Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck in person. And Santa Claus—please, do everything in your power to make him believe for as long as you can. Don’t send him to private school—it’s for snobby rich kids. And even though he’ll be rich, don’t ever let him act like it. Make sure he’s a giver, not a taker. Then again, seeing who his mom is, I know that won’t be a problem. You’re the biggest giver I know, Skylar.” All I can do is roll my eyes at her statement. She’s delusional, but I’m not about to call her on it now. “Make sure he knows how to treat a lady. Griffin is a great example, but you need to remind Aaron of it every day. Don’t let him get lazy. Teach him how to drive. Even if you live in the city, every kid needs to feel the freedom of getting a license when they turn sixteen. Hug him and kiss him. Even when he says he’s too old. Even when he says it embarrasses him. No matter what he says; he needs to know you love him. And kiss him for me. Every day. Tell him his guardian angel will always watch over him.”

  I listen intently as Erin rambles on, slurring her words as she lists everything she wants me to do with Aaron. Things I never would have thought of. Things only a good mother would be sure to do for their child. How can she entrust him to me? When she finally becomes exhausted from talking, I take her hand. “Erin, I promise to try to do all those things, but what makes you think I can live up to your expectations? Everything you’ve said makes me see just how different I am from the mother you would have been. How can you be so sure I’m the best one to raise Aaron?”