Isla carries on. “I want you to touch that body part. Tell her that you love it, despite her insecurities.”
My eyes stay on my wife and I silently beg her to trust me. I’m done hurting her. My mission in life is to make her feel loved and safe and happy. My fingers smooth up her sides and slowly crawl under the fabric of her t-shirt. My fingers flit over her C-Section scar. Her eyes press shut and she cringes visibly. I lower my lips to her ears. “I love you, Grace. I don’t care about that scar and I don’t care about what it represents. I just love you. I want you.”
She flops into my arms and I hold her to me, whispering comforting words into her hair. I’ve got my girl back and I’m never letting her go.
Chapter 34
Grace
“So I hope that your family enjoys this recipe as much as mine does,” I tell the camera, wearing a super-sized grin. “See you next time on Gracie’s Kitchen.”
Faith leans excitedly over the counter and ends the recording with a tap of her finger. Her eyes bounce up to mine. “Now, can we eat it?”
I chuff and shake my head. In some ways, she’s never grown up. She’s still the annoying little kid who used to steal my makeup, annoy my friends and generally be a pain in the butt while we were growing up. But I love her like crazy.
Waving my hand in the direction of the pie dish, I give her my blessing. “Dig in.”
“Oh, yeah!” Lily says, rubbing a hand over her belly as she stretches a fork out to Faith and they dig into my gorgeous triple chocolate no-bake cream pie like animals.
I giggle and my heart swells with pride. I love that they can’t resist my cooking. And it seems that they aren’t the only ones. I’ve had hundreds of people subscribe to my YouTube channel this week alone and I’ve been getting messages every day from people who have tried and loved my recipes. It’s a good feeling.
The backdoor groans loudly as it swings open and Daniel appears in the doorway. “I’ve got to oil those damn hinges,” he grunts as he toes off his shoes on the mat.
“Mmm…is that a double-entendre?” Faith teases, jabbing me in the ribs with the stem of her fork.
Daniel pads into the room with a huge box propped up under each arm. “Babe, make sure your sisters know that your hinges get oiled daily.”
I fling a kitchen towel at him. “Would you all stop embarrassing me!”
These days I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. My husband is moving back home. One box at a time.
We made it!
Life threw a couple hundred gallons of bullshit at us and we survived. We’ve got the scars and the dry cleaning bills to prove it. But we’re still standing strong.
He kisses me on the cheek as he hustles by me, headed for the stairs. “How many boxes do you have left?” I ask him. “Dinner’s ready and I’m about to throw these two scavengers out onto the streets.” I gesture at my sisters who are too busy stuffing their faces to protest.
“I’ve already moved everything out,” he shouts over his shoulder. “I just need to meet with the landlord and turn in my keys. I’ll be back before you know it.” He’s already stomping back down the stairs with his arms swinging.
As he rushes out the backdoor again, I promise that me and Sebastian will be waiting at the table for him when he gets back.
Faith slumps a hip against the counter with a heavy sigh. “I am so damn relieved that the two of you patched things up.”
I bite the corner of my lip and a serene energy flows throughout my body. “I am, too. That yoga retreat really helped break down the walls between us.”
“Oh, yeah?” Lily asks with a contented expression on her face as she plucks an Oreo out of the dessert and pops it into her mouth. “How so?”
I take spoon and scoop up a chunk of the pie. “There were a lot of things that I didn’t want to admit to myself. A lot of the responsibility was on my shoulders and I didn’t want to see that…”
Faith eyes me with an arched brow. “Vague much?”
I laugh. I need to get some of my secrets off of my chest. These are my sisters and we’re here in my kitchen, huddled over a delicious pie. I finally feel empowered to share this part of myself with them. I remind myself that it’s safe to open up to them. I can trust that they won’t judge me and that they’ll love me all the same.
“Guys – I can’t have any more kids.”
I say the words and it literally feels like a thousand pounds just rolled off of my shoulders. “Gracie!” Lily gasps, covering her lips with her fingers.
The shock on Faith’s face is obvious. Her jaw hangs loose but nothing comes out.
I fill my lungs with a shaky breath. “For all these months, I didn’t realize that that was the root of our arguing and fighting. Somewhere deep inside of me, I didn’t believe that Daniel would love me anymore if I couldn’t give him more babies. I thought that he would leave me – the way dad left – so I started pushing him away. To beat him to the punch, I guess.”
I drop my head and the tears spill down my skin. Not big, ugly, melodramatic tears. Tears of quiet acceptance. I probably can’t have any more kids. But I have a gorgeous little family. A husband who loves me and a son who’s healthy and smart and precocious. And finally, that’s enough.
I vaguely sense my sisters approaching. Their arms come around me as they soothe me with soft words and affectionate caresses.
“Daniel is nothing like our father,” Lily murmurs, her voice cracking. “He loves you and Sebastian so much.”
“I know…” I pull out of the suffocating embrace and sniffle.
Faith wipes at my tears with her fingers. “And I will so fucking carry your baby if that’s what you want,” she assures me. “No questions asked!”
“Jeez, lady…” is all I manage to say to that because I’m so knotted up with gratitude at the fact that she would even suggest such a thing.
Not wanting feel left out, Lily chimes in, “I’d offer too but, as you can see, my uterus is currently occupied.” She motions to her round stomach.
The three of us burst out laughing. Wow, I never realized that opening up would feel so refreshing and that I’d be swept up in such a wave of acceptance and affection from my sisters.
“I love you bitches so much, but I can’t accept your offer.” I sigh. “I’m cool with the fact that it’ll be just me, Daniel and Sebastian. That works for me.”
Faith grabs her fork again and leans over the remnants of the pie. “Well, if you change your mind, my womb is yours for the taking. I don’t have any use for it.” She tilts her head haughtily. “As you know, Maxwell and I don’t want any kids.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I mutter just as I hear a car door slam in the driveway. I glance out the window and Daniel is back already. “Okay, you two take this pie and get the hell out of my house. My husband’s home and we’re in need of some family time!”
Knowing how important this moment is for my family, they don’t put up a fight. They just shower me with kisses and steal the pie dish on their way out.
Within minutes, my husband and I are at the kitchen table, fully entertained watching our toddler make a mess with his mashed potatoes and gravy. After cleaning up the kitchen. We take Sebastian to his room and put him to bed together. He’s asleep in no time.
We scurry down the hall and burst into our room, giggling like we just got away with something. I lean against the door and peer at Daniel with wide eyes. “Oh my gosh – I haven’t gotten that child to fall asleep before 8:30 since…since…well, ever.”
He smiles at me. “I’ve been sleeping well too since I got back here. I guess we all feel like we can exhale now. Finally.” He comes up to me and places a soft kiss on my lips. His voice drops to a rumble, the richness of his baritone making my stomach clench. “Daddy’s home…”
His smile feels like sunshine on my skin after months of hibernation. I want to bathe in it all day. With no sunscreen. “Daddy’s home.”
He tickles my ribs before grabbing
my butt through the thin fabric of my leggings. I know exactly what time it is.
His lips spread from one side of his face to the other and his eyes twinkle as he says, “So, can I get a blowjob or what?"
I squeal as he tosses me onto the mattress.
Chapter 35
Daniel
Prescott leans against the doorjamb with his arms folded across his chest. “I can’t believe that you’re serious about this.”
I toss him a wide grin over my shoulder. “As serious as a heart attack, man.” I snatch a photo of Sebastian and Grace off of my desk. Folding the back carefully, I set it at the top of the box.
Prescott shakes his head in disbelief. “But you’re at the peak of your game,” he argues, “You’re in the middle of the Shinewell case. You could take it all the way to the Supreme Court, if need be. Really make a name for yourself on the national scene…And you just quit?”
I lift one shoulder and let it fall. “Some things in life are more important than work. Family tops the list.”
He casts a sceptical look my way.
I sigh. “If you had to choose between your wife and unborn child on the one hand, and winning some court case on the other hand, which would you choose?”
“You know what I’d choose Daniel.” He’s obviously irritated by my condescending tone. “I just don’t see why you can’t have both.”
I sit on the lip of my desk and stare down at the carpet. “Maybe I can have both but I want one so bad that it makes the other seem completely inconsequential.”
“So, you’re just gonna give it all up?”
I glance around at my corner office. I feel a pang in my gut at the realization that I’m walking away from this place for good. Not that I’ll miss the furnishings, per se. The place is dreary, a classic lawyer’s den with its heavy bookcases and dusty law journals on the shelves. Thick drapes on the windows, the mandatory tufted swivelling leather chair behind an imposing desk and wood-framed diplomas hanging on the wall. The room could use a makeover.
Still, I’ve spent so much time here over the past few months, it’s become my second home. And that’s sad. Pathetic. I’d rather be in my real home, snuggled on the couch with my wife and child instead of trying to get comfortable on the musty-smelling sofa in the corner of my office for a few minutes of sleep after pulling yet another all-nighter before an early morning meeting with a demanding client that I can’t stand or a hearing before a judge who has a god complex.
I want something simple.
“I’m just gonna give it all up,” I echo sounding a lot more confident than I feel.
I have more than a year’s worth of expenses saved up in the bank. Plus, we have money left over from Grace’s settlement with the hospital. I think that gives me more than enough time to figure out my next move. And worse comes to worst, we could refinance the house or downsize.
But of course I have that niggling voice in the back of my head warning that some disaster’s gonna hit and my family will end up living under the Reyfield Bridge and I’ll end up doing spoken word poetry on the corner outside of Flynn and Murray’s just to put food into their rumbling stomachs. I remind my brain that I’m being melodramatic. Things will work out. As long as I have Grace by my side, under my sheets at night, everything will be fine.
I grab the squishy stress ball sitting on the edge of my desk and toss it his way without warning. His reflexes are sharp and he reacts quickly, catching it before it hits the floor. “On the bright side, I’m passing the Shinewell case on to you. It’s your name that will be in the newspaper when you kick the town council’s butt in court. I’m sure that within no time, you’ll be the one sitting in this corner office, at this desk.”
With a tilt of his head and a pompous smile, he says, “I know. I’m a much better lawyer than you, anyway.”
One corner of my mouth flips up in a grin and I laugh deep in my throat. “Keep dreamin’, kid!”
His phone beeps in his pocket and he pulls it out to check it. “Okay, enough commemorating,” he says with a grunt. “Duty calls. Some of us around here actually have to work for our accolades.” He gives me one last look, like I’m about to be deployed to the warzone or something equally dramatic. “See you around, Trotten.”
I give him a wordless salute and he disappears out the door. I push back against the uneasy feeling in my chest. I silently remind myself that I’m making the right decision. I need Grace to know that I’m serious this time. I’m committed to her and our family. No matter what.
I lean over my desk and grab my personal effects (and of course, some mementos like a few extra ball-points and a calculator, just in case). I toss the items into my box. My eyes sweep over the space one last time before I make my grand exit.
Oh, right! My mini-aloe vera plant on the windowsill. A gift from my mom. She’d kill me if I left it behind.
I hear someone clear their throat from the doorway. My gaze travels over my shoulder and I find Brittany Delaney standing in the doorframe.
Ugh!
“Hello Daniel.”
“Brittany – now really isn’t a good time.” I hold out my hand placatingly.
She ignores me as she approaches my desk, her hips swishing left to right. “The receptionist wasn’t at her desk so I saw myself in. I hope that’s not a problem.” Her red-painted lips stretch into a cloying smile.
“I’m actually quite busy right now. I don’t have the time to talk,” I tell her uninterestedly.
“I’m tired of you giving me the run-around.” Irritation pleats her brow. “I have a legal matter to discuss with you.” She perches on the edge of my desk and runs the pointy tips of her red nails over the wood. The scratching sound grates on my nerves as much as the sound of her voice does. “I need you to help me identify the father of my little brat.”
I feel sorry for the child, truly. Brittany doesn’t seem to have a maternal bone in her surgically enhanced body.
But her paternity issues are not my concern. I’m on my way out the door. “Not accepting clients right now. If you need legal representation, I’ll gladly introduce you to one of my colleagues who has space in his calendar–”
She scoffs. “Honey, you don’t want me going to your colleagues with this. Trust me.”
I slam my fist into the desk and speak through gritted teeth. “Brittany, I really don’t have the fucking time–”
She leans close and the mawkish scent of her cheap perfume hits my lungs, causing my stomach to roil. “You’re not understanding. I’m not looking for a lawyer,” she informs me in a rough tone. “I’m looking for some DNA. A spit swab, maybe. Or a strand of hair. A container of sperm. Up to you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask this ridiculous woman.
“Daniel, I’m pretty sure that you’re the father of my child.”
A cold waves washes over me from head to toe as I stand frozen in place. What she’s saying makes no sense. My eyes go to her belly.
“I have no idea whose kid you’re carrying but it’s definitely not mine! I know that I didn’t touch you that night at Flynn and Murray’s!”
She laughs again. “I’m not pregnant now, you fool. I have an eight-year-old daughter. We have an eight-year-old daughter…actually, she might be nine. I’m not even sure anymore. Whatever.”
Bile and panic rise in my chest. “Fuck no! There’s no way I’m letting you pawn off some kid on me. You slept around in high school. You were with everyone from Jakob Wilkinson to the scary tattooed guy on community service who used to help out in the cafeteria. That kid isn’t mine!”
With an eyeroll, she leans closer. “Yes, I slept with a few guys in high school but you’re the only one who went in bareback and I got a child out of it.”
I stare at her dumbfounded. “You are crazy! Get the fuck away from me!”
She reaches into her purse and hands me a document. A paternity suit. From Jim Thatcher’s law firm. Shit!
“Look – I know you wish I’d
just go away but that’s not happenin’. We can do this the easy, quiet, private way. Or we can do it the Jim Thatcher way. And we both know that the Jim Thatcher way ain’t pretty. Sorry babe, but those are the only options you’ve got.”
This is one of the rare moments in my life when I’ve been absolutely dumbfounded. I watch her, paralyzed by my helplessness.
She slips her business card into my hand and spins toward the door. She holds up her fingers like a telephone. “Call me.”
She struts down the hallway toward the exit.
Chapter 36
Grace
“Hey honey.” The warmest feeling fills my chest as I stroll into the kitchen and find my husband standing at the sink rinsing out his coffee cup. I go up behind him and wrap my arms around his strong torso, pressing my face to his back.
Dirty Forever (The Dirty Suburbs Book 8) Page 18