by Kelsie Rae
“Well, yeah, but––”
His voice sounds tortured as he cuts me off again. “I left you after promising to never leave you. What kind of asshole does that? Especially when it wasn’t even––” His mouth snaps shut, and his knuckles turn white before he twists the key to turn off the ignition.
“Wasn’t even, what?” I ask.
“Nothing. It’ll be fine. This’ll be fine. Grady will have a blast, and no one will kill me as long as there’s a kid to witness it.”
“Why would someone want to kill you?” Grady interjects, his little forehead wrinkled with concern.
Damn little ears.
Twisting in the driver’s seat, Owen rustles Grady’s hair. “I’m kidding, bud.”
“Then what did you mean?” Grady asks curiously.
“It’s kind of complicated, Grady.”
“So?”
With a sigh, Owen scratches the scruff along his jaw. “Uh, you know how much I love you, right?”
“Yeah?”
“And that I wouldn’t want anyone to ever hurt you?”
“Yeah, I know,” Grady mutters.
“Well, Saylor’s mom, dad, and sisters are the same way. And way back before you were ever born, I hurt Saylor. Then I moved away and didn’t see her again until you and Turner got into a fight at school. And even though Saylor and I have made up and become good friends, I’m a little worried that her parents might take a little longer to warm up to me.”
“Oh.” That same scrunched up face stays pinched as Grady searches for a solution. Within a minute, he lights up like the Fourth of July. “Well, I’ll just tell them you’re awesome, then they’ll be okay. Right, Dad?”
Owen chuckles dryly. “Right.”
“Sounds like a solid plan to me,” I quip, offering my two cents.
Rolling his eyes, Owen pushes open the driver’s side door, then orders, “Come on, Grady. Let’s get inside.”
Sway’s white SUV named Taffy is already parked beside my car, and Skye can’t make it tonight because she’s feeling crappy, which means the gang’s all here. And they’re all about to see Owen again. The same Owen who broke my heart and ruined me for dating and ever falling in love. The same Owen I’ve cursed about for almost a decade, yet am asking to be welcomed with open arms.
Shit. Maybe Owen has a point for being nervous.
My palms are sweaty as I wipe them on my jean-covered thighs before we all trudge up to the front door.
With a twist of my wrist, I unlock the door, push it open, and call out, “Hey, everyone! We’re here! And I brought company, so be nice!”
Again, Owen chuckles dryly before helping me out of my coat. When he untwists my scarf from around my neck, he murmurs, “Seems I’m not the only one who’s a little nervous about your family playing nice.”
“It’ll be fine,” I whisper.
His eyes are practically glowing with mirth as they hold mine hostage.
“Sure, it will.”
Then he bends at the waist and helps Grady slip off his snow boots and winter coat, hanging it up beside mine on the dark lacquered rack near the front door. The entryway splits into a hall on the left and a set of stairs on the right that leads to the bedrooms and bathrooms on the second floor. The hall, however, is lined with family pictures from my childhood and takes us to the family room, dining room, and kitchen that was redecorated a couple of years ago.
“Hey, Mama!” I call out.
“Sorry! We’re in here!” she returns, her voice bouncing off the walls.
I look over my shoulder at Grady and Owen. “Apparently, they’re in the kitchen. It’s uh, it’s this way.”
“I remember where it’s located,” Owen teases. Apparently, my nerves have transformed his into amusement more than anxiety. Glad I can entertain him.
Bastard.
“Oh. Right,” I mutter. “Well, right this way.” I take another few steps toward the kitchen. When I notice a lack of footsteps following me, I glance over my shoulder again. Owen’s too busy staring at a few of the family photographs hung along the walls to follow me. But it’s the soft smile that does me in.
His voice is raw and gritty as his calloused finger drags along the dusted glass of the picture. “I remember when this was taken.”
“Yeah?”
My sisters flank my sides as all of us grin from ear to ear, the warm sun beating on our backs after a long-ass hike that nearly killed us. Owen had tagged along with my family because I was young, stubborn, and in love, demanding they welcome him with open arms regardless of how stupid I was for falling in love at such a young age and being too stubborn to recognize how rare that truly is.
“You looked gorgeous that day,” he rasps.
“Dude, I was peeling like a snake because Sway and Skye had convinced me to lay on tinfoil in our backyard a week before.”
He laughs. “I’d forgotten about that. Why the hell would you agree to do that, anyway?”
“Because we didn’t want to go to the tanning salon. Therefore, gorgeous isn’t exactly the term I would use to describe all”––I wave my hand in front of the picture frame––“that.”
“And I beg to differ.”
Sway’s melodic voice echoes down the hall as her head pops around the corner. “Do I hear––Oh.” Her eyes widen before bouncing between Owen, me, and Grady like a freaking pinball. “Um, hi. Good to, uh, see you again, Owen. And this is…?” her gaze drops down to Grady.
“This is Grady,” Owen replies, his chest swelling with pride. “My son.”
“Hi, Grady.” Squatting down, Sway offers her hand. “I’m Sway. I’m Saylor’s cool sister,” she emphasizes.
Grady grins. “Hi. I’m Owen’s cool son.”
“So, there’s more of you?” Sway quips, tossing a wink at Owen.
“Nope. Just the one and only,” Owen returns without missing a beat.
“Darn. If they’re all as cute as Grady, I’d say to keep on goin’.”
“Anywho,” I interject, my face blazing, “Where’s everyone else?”
“Mom’s in the kitchen with Anthony. She put him to work as soon as we got here. And Dad’s––”
The toilet flushes from behind the door to our right.
Turning pale, Owen gulps and tucks his hands into his front pockets. My brows furrow as the easy, laid back Owen disappears, being replaced by a teenager who’s about to be scolded for sneaking out.
“When you’re done with”––Sway waves her hand at Owen, me, and the closed bathroom door––“all that, you should come say hi to Anthony. We have some potential news, and he’d love to officially meet your ol’ friend here.”
My smile is tight as I give her a jerky nod. “Sounds good. We’ll see you in a minute.”
Wiggling her fingers back and forth, she skips back to the kitchen, her pink hair swinging along her lower back before she disappears around the corner.
The hall is silent other than the occasional creak from the floor as Owen shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Then, the bathroom door opens.
“Thought I heard a familiar voice,” my dad announces, his tone indifferent.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Swenson,” Owen replies with his hand extended toward my dad.
His gaze drops down to Owen’s palm before sliding back up to Owen’s face.
“Dinner’s ready!” my mom yells.
Dad clears his throat then takes Owen’s hand, shaking it firmly. “You and I need to have a little chat after dinner.”
It isn’t a question.
“Yes, sir,” Owen returns.
“Dad,” I interrupt. “This is Grady, Owen’s son.”
As if a switch flipped, my dad turns back into the sweetest, most kind, and generous person in the entire world. “Hey, Grady. I’m Saylor’s dad, but you can call me Grandpa Brock, alright?”
Grady nods.
“You like snowmobiles?” Dad asks.
“What’s a snowmobile?”
My dad’
s smile widens. “After dinner, we’ll get you all set up. You can use the one we got Brody.”
“Who’s Brody?” Grady asks.
“He’s my other grandson,” my dad teases.
With a light laugh, I smack his shoulder. “No, he isn’t. He’s the boy my sister, Skye, used to nanny. He’s a little older than you, though. He used to come around a lot before a bunch of drama went down that you don’t need to know about ‘cause you’re a kid. But all you need to know is that we have lots of fun kid stuff.” I lean closer and whisper, “Grandpa Brock is a sucker for kids, so get ready to have a blast after dinner, okay?”
Grady nods. “Okay.”
“Come on,” my dad urges him. “I’ll show you where the dinner table is. Do you like fried chicken?”
Their voices trail off as they round the corner to the dining room, leaving Owen and me alone in the hall.
I cringe. “That was…not terrible?”
With another dry laugh, he tosses his arm around my neck and drags me to the dining room. “Yeah, well, your dad and I haven’t had our little chat yet, so I’m gonna say the jury’s still out.”
“It’ll be fine,” I tell him, though I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince.
Sensing my nerves, Owen halts and forces me to do the same. Then he twists me in his arms until we’re almost chest to chest and gives me that same boyish grin that screams confidence. “I’m not going to lose you again, Say.”
“Owen––”
“I’m serious.” He presses a quick kiss to my forehead. “You’re stuck with me.”
Then he pushes me toward the dining room, effectively ending our conversation with a soft but playful shove. It reminds me how small I am and how freaking strong Owen is even though he’s a teddy bear instead of a Grizzly.
Next to my dad sits Grady, looking tinier than ever, with an open seat to his left for Owen. Across from him, Sway and Anthony are seated side by side, leaving an empty seat opposite Owen. We both scoot into the allotted openings while Sway opens her big, fat mouth.
“So, Saylor, are you gonna finish making the proper introductions?”
“She can make the proper introductions after prayer,” Mama scolds. “The chicken’s getting cold.”
“Of course.”
We all bow our heads before my dad rattles off a prayer of gratitude. As soon as he’s finished, all eyes are on Owen.
“So…,” I start. “As you all might remember, this is Owen. And this is his son, Grady. Owen and Grady, this is Mama, Dad, Sway, and Anthony.”
“Nice to meet you, man,” Anthony returns, sincerely. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
With a smirk, Owen answers, “That sounds promising. Nice to meet you too, though. And congrats. I heard you and Sway are engaged.”
“Thanks.” Eyes shining with pure adoration, he looks down at Sway beside him. “We’re really excited about it.”
“Speaking of excitement,” Sway interjects, her Cheshire grin on full display. “We have another announcement.” Tangling her fingers with Anthony’s on the white table cloth, she clears her throat. “We’ve decided we’re going to have a baby.”
My jaw drops before my gaze takes its turn zeroing in on everyone around the rectangular table that’s littered with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans.
“Um,” I drag out. “Sway? Wanna expand on that a bit?”
Ya know, since you don’t have a uterus and all.
Anthony laughs. “Throw ‘em a bone, Sway.”
Sticking her tongue out at me, the girl is practically glowing as she finally gives in.
“Fiiine, but you should all see the looks on your faces. Anthony and I were talking about our goals and the things we want for our future. Obviously, children are one of them, but I never really dared to dream about a future with kids because, as you all know, I can’t have any. But Anthony asked about the possibility of adoption or surrogacy, and it got me thinking about the eggs we had frozen before….” She looks over at Grady, who’s practically gnawing on a chicken bone while staring right back at her. Clearly, he’s invested in the conversation even if he has no idea what she’s talking about.
“Before my last surgery in high school,” she finishes cryptically. “Anyway, Anthony started looking into surrogacy when I mentioned it to him, and one thing led to another, and we’re looking for a potential surrogate that we think might be a good fit.”
“What’s a surrogate?” Grady asks before stuffing a fork full of mashed potatoes into his mouth.
“Oh. He’s uh…Owen? Wanna answer that one?” Sway suggests.
Owen clears his throat and sets down his fork. “She’s someone who can carry a baby for a mom and dad who aren’t able to carry it themselves. Then she gives it to the real parents after the baby’s born.”
“So, like what mom was for me?”
“Oh. Uh, not exactly. Your mom was still related to you. In Anthony’s and Sway’s case, the baby would be related to them, but someone else would hold the baby in their stomach until the baby’s old enough to survive outside of it. It’s kind of complicated….” Owen squeezes the back of his neck as his voice trails off, though I don’t blame him. This isn’t exactly what I would consider a normal topic of conversation during dinner.
“May I try?” I offer.
Owen exhales in relief and nods. “Yup. Be my guest.”
With a smile, I turn to Grady. “So, Grady. To make a cake, you need eggs, flour, sugar, and a few other ingredients, right?”
Grady mimics his dad’s earlier movement from a few seconds ago and bobs his head up and down, shocking me with how similar they are.
“Well, it’s the same for making a baby. You need an egg and another…ingredient to make it work. But it won’t turn into a cake without an oven. Basically, Sway and Anthony have all the ingredients to make an amazing cake, but they don’t have an oven to bake it. That’s what a surrogate is. She’s the…oven in the process. Right, guys?”
Anthony and Sway both nod. “Yup.”
“Your mom gave the egg,” I continue, “and your dad, uh, he gave another ingredient, then she held you in her tummy until it was time for you to be born. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah. So, how do you get the ingredients into the oven, though?” he asks with way more curiosity than any six-year-old has a right to have.
“Aaand that’s a topic for another day,” Owen decides, his face reddening as he nudges Grady’s plate closer to him. “Eat your dinner.”
Grady shrugs. “Okay.” Then he dives back into his mashed potatoes.
Satisfied that Grady’s curiosity has been taken care of––for now, anyway––I turn back to Sway. “Anywho, I think this is pretty much the best thing I’ve ever heard. I’m so happy for you guys.”
Her soft smile makes me want to cry. Because it’s filled with a hope that she didn’t dare to have before Anthony came along. Anthony bends toward her and brushes his lips against her cheek. “Thanks, Say. We don’t want to count our chickens before they hatch, but we found an agency that looked over our case and sent us the papers this week.”
“Yup, and then…we had to get the documents notarized, so we went to the courthouse and….” A giddy grin slips out of Sway before she buries her face in her hands and laughs even louder.
“And what, Swayze Girl?” my dad interjects.
“And we did what Sway does best,” Anthony answers. “We did something completely spontaneous and got married while we were there.”
“You didn’t!” my mom gushes.
“We totally did,” Sway returns.
“Congratulations, Sway!”
“I’m so happy for you!”
“That’s awesome, guys!”
“Thanks,” Anthony and Sway return in unison before Sway adds, “We emailed the signed papers back to the agency today, and now, we’re just waiting for the next step. We wanted to wait and tell you guys when Skye was here.” She looks over at Anthony and shrugs. “But
then we kinda figured it might be best to do it face-to-face, and there’s no way I was gonna be able to hold in all that awesomeness until the next Sunday dinner.”
“Skye will be happy for you,” I tell them. “Just like how I’m happy for you. Seriously, this is the greatest news ever.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m glad my daughter found a good man who treats her right,” Dad tells them with an edge to his voice.
“And I always will,” Anthony promises before raising his glass. “To family.”
The rest of us join in. “To family.”
My dad is deathly quiet throughout the rest of dinner, other than a few grandpa jokes tossed in Grady’s direction. I have a feeling it’s the calm before the storm. And if Owen wants another chance at winning my dad’s approval, which is something I desperately want, then he has his work cut out for him. Regardless of what my dad said to me the last time I was here, Owen still hurt me, and my dad knows it.
22
Owen
The rhythmic creak from Brock’s rocking chair makes my pulse spike as I head up the freshly shoveled steps toward the porch.
Coffee mug in hand, he lifts his chin in greeting. “Still hiding from me?”
“Grady wanted to try out the snowmobiles––”
“I’m kidding, Owen. Take a seat.”
The cold air does nothing to ease the heat of his stare, but I inhale deeply anyway, prepping for an onslaught of reasons why I should stay the hell away from his oldest daughter. My weight causes the old wooden chair to groan as I collapse into it before my gaze searches for Grady and Saylor playing in the snow despite the darkening sky.
Like a picture-perfect moment.
Like a dream that I never believed could be reality.
Yet here it is. There’s just one more obstacle.
I glance over at Brock, but he’s still staring at his daughter and my son bonding.
“I always thought she’d be a good mom,” Brock comments.
“So do I.”
“Your son likes her.”
“He does.”
“She likes him.”
“Yeah.” I take in her giant grin as she tosses a snowball at his puffy coat. “She does.”