“Oh, stop. Her mother is my best friend. Don’t you think we talk about you?”
“Great,” I said with a sarcastic smile, taking a sip of what was now frigid coffee.
“Anyway. If that’s your reason, then yes, you might have an issue that’s greater than you can overcome. But if you’re doing this because you think she’s anything like Helen—because you’re scared that she’ll leave you, too, then my dear...you’re being a fucking idiot.”
Coffee came out of my nose.
Fuck, that hurt.
I wiped the liquid off my face and openly gawked at my mother. “Excuse me?”
“She’s not Helen.”
“I know that,” I said, running my hands over my hair. “You don’t think I want more kids? I love Lettie. She’d be a phenomenal big sister and even the idea of having another little girl with Bailey’s smile… Hell yes, I want that. But what happens when she chooses art over us, just like she did now? What happens when I inevitably fuck everything up and she walks out? Does she leave all of us? Or do we get into a nasty custody battle where the kids never feel settled?”
Mom sighed. “Why do you think it would end? Why do you always assume the worst? Because I left your dad?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t get past the lump that had lodged itself in my throat.
“Oh, Gage. We never loved each other the way you and Bailey do. I see the way you watch each other. I’ve seen it since you were kids. You can’t go through life basing your relationship on everyone else’s. Don’t make her pay for Helen’s crime. Or for mine.
I looked over to Lettie and realized with another crack to my heart that maybe I was making her pay for mine.
December in Ontario was bitter, especially when a cold front came down from the arctic. I pulled the collar of my jacket higher and made my way toward the restaurant.
It had been three weeks since Bailey moved to Paris. Three weeks with little to no contact. Sure, she skyped Lettie once a week, but even then our contact was limited to “hi, how are you?”
My heart hurt more every day in a way no painkiller could take away. I wasn’t just missing her body, her smile, her laugh, the way she erased every worry with a simple embrace. I was missing our family—driving home from practice to see my girls. The house felt so fucking empty even though there were still two of us in it.
I couldn’t even replace her as a nanny. Mom had to step in to help because I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else getting as close to Lettie as Bailey had—couldn’t stand the thought of replacing her.
She was irreplaceable.
I crossed the busy street and walked into the restaurant, welcoming the blast of warmth. I would never complain about Seattle winters again. Ever.
She was easy to spot, her blonde hair perfectly done, her style just a little on the showy side. Fuck, well here we go. “Helen,” I said as I took the seat across from her after handing my jacket to the maitre ‘d.
“Gage,” she answered, sipping champagne from a flute. “I already ordered for you. Filet with a side of pasta for a little carb load before tonight’s game?”
I nodded, hating that she knew even the most mundane details of my life. “Thank you.”
“Are you enjoying my city?” she asked, her giant diamond flashing under the lights.
“It’s cold. Kind of like you. Why did you ask me to lunch?” I said, my patience wearing thin.
She arched a thinly tweezed eyebrow. “I wanted to talk about Scarlett.”
“I figured.” My fingers toyed with the tablecloth, trying to keep my temper in check.
She sighed. “What I did on her birthday...I’m sorry about the cat.”
“You apologizing? That’s a first.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Sorry, now I’m being the ass. Don’t apologize for the cat, Helen. Apologize for not knowing in the first place.”
“I know,” she said quietly, playing with the stem of her glass. “I’m not her mother anymore, not really.”
My heart stilled in my chest.
“I haven’t been since the day that I left her. But he...he never wanted kids, and knew she’d be better off with you anyway. I was always too selfish for parenting, and you took to it so naturally.” She forced a pained smile. “You have no clue how jealous of her I was—that she had so much of your love, such devotion. Or how jealous I was of you and your ability to bond with her like it was the most natural thing in the world.”
“It was,” I said softly.
She nodded. “I know. For you it was.” She leaned over and pulled something out of her purse, bringing it to the top of the table.
Holy shit, it was the papers.
Her breath shook on the exhale and she pushed them across the table. “They’re signed, as promised. I was clinging to something that didn’t exist, and honestly trying to punish you for something that wasn’t your fault.”
“Helen…” I whispered, glancing at her signature and the notary’s before tucking them into my suit coat like they were...well, what they were—Lettie’s chance. My chance. Our chance.
She shook her head and waved me off. “Don’t. Scarlett deserves better. She deserves to have Bailey as a mom. You guys are more of a family than we ever were.”
I blinked. She was saying all the right words, had signed all the right papers, but I still couldn’t believe that she was giving up. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m thankful for this. More than you’ll ever know. But why now?”
“Well, Roy and I have been in some counseling, and I’ve been doing a little self-exploration and accountability, as our therapist says.” She took another sip.
“So this is all part of your process?”
“Whatever. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“It just feels too easy.” Easy like I needed to check and make sure the papers hadn’t disappeared out of my own pocket.
Her eyes narrowed. “For you. It’s easy for you. I did some really hard thinking and decided that as her mother, I owed her the best life possible. That life is with you and doesn’t include me.”
“We could have worked something out, you know. We could have still co-parented.”
She shook her head. “As much as I know what my responsibility was...I just…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to be a mother. I like the idea of it, but that’s as far as that goes.”
I nodded. “Thank you.” I held it together, shoving all of my feelings on the back burner. “I have to ask. Was there anything I could have done to make you stay?”
“No, I was already so far gone.” She tilted her head and really looked at me. “But I wonder what would have happened if you’d come after me—fought for me.”
I took a long sip of my water, knowing that there was no reality in which I would have chased her. Not when she’d abandoned the little girl she’d given birth to. “I wonder,” I said to appease her, but my mind strayed to Bailey. I have to ask. Was there anything I could have done to make you stay?
Jesus. I hadn’t even fought or tried to really see her side. I’d looped her in with Helen and shoved her away. But hadn’t she already proved she wasn’t Helen? She’d been in contact with Lettie every week. She hadn’t abandoned us, she simply wasn’t physically present...but even though I was still angry with her for leaving, I knew she’d left her heart behind with us.
She wasn’t Helen.
“What now?” she asked with a sad smile as our food arrived.
“Now we have lunch,” I answered.
“As what?”
“As two people who used to know each other really well,” I answered.
“Yeah,” she said softly as our plates were placed in front of us. “I’d like that.”
Then I did something I never thought possible—I had a civil, even funny conversation with the woman I’d assumed I’d spend the rest of my life with. There was no anger, no harsh feelings, just a slight breath of sadness.
After Helen left, and I’d paid, I made my way
to the front of the restaurant, my thoughts a nauseating blur. Two blondes eye-fucked me from the bar, but I kept going. Bailey was the last woman I’d been inside, and it was going to stay that way.
Every emotion assaulted me as I hailed a cab back to the hotel. Joy, disbelief, gratitude, and a twinge of sadness that Helen would never fight for Lettie—they all mixed together. We had a chance, now. A real chance of being a complete family without Helen’s shadow...as soon as I figured out how to get Bailey back. We weren’t complete without her, and I was done living this half life.
I wanted my woman back.
It was fifteen minutes back to the hotel, and by the time we pulled up to the doors, I’d already made every arrangement I’d need.
“How did it go?” Mom asked as I came into our suite.
“She signed. It’s over.”
“Oh, thank God.” Her shoulders sagged in relief. “Lettie is in her room watching that movie again.”
“I swear, I’ll never understand why she loves that movie so much,” I said as I tossed my coat on the oversized chair.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Mom asked.
“No,” I answered, my head already in the closet, yanking my suitcase out.
“Gage, when did she start watching it?”
“Around the time that Bailey came.” I paused at the door to my bedroom as it hit me. “The dad falls in love with the nanny.”
“Bingo.”
A slow smile spread across my face. I’d fallen for Bailey. Fully, hopelessly, completely, and if I had anything to say about it, I was going to love her for the rest of my life. We’d have a crazy, paint-messed house that was full of laughter, love, chaos and kids.
“Hey, Mom, you’ve been amazing to travel with us—”
“Well, I know you can’t stand to be separated from Lettie for more than a few days,” she said with a kind smile.
I hated leaving Lettie...but I had to.
“Yeah, well, you’re the only person besides Bailey that I trust with her. I need a favor.”
“Anything,” she answered instantly.
“I need you to take her home to Seattle after the game. I’m going to be gone for about a week, but I’ll be home for Christmas, I promise.”
Her grin was instant and electric. “Go bring her home, Gage.”
I nodded and then hauled the suitcase into my room. The flight left only a matter of hours after the game. My phone rang, Dr. Patterson’s private number coming up on the caller ID and I answered.
“Hey, Doc, thanks for returning my call.”
“Hi, Gage,” he said slowly in his serious tone.
“Don’t sound so glum doc. I just have a quick question for you.” I tossed the suitcase onto the bed and popped the latches.
He cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m glad you called. I need to talk to you about your test results from your checkup.”
My stomach fell to the floor, and in that moment...everything changed.
Chapter 18
Bailey
I clutched the cold, immaculately polished porcelain in the bathroom of my Paris apartment. My stomach churned, despite having just thrown up the lone cracker I’d had for breakfast.
I pushed myself to standing, running the icy water in the sink over my hands and splashing my face. I didn’t know if it was the stress from the internship at the gallery, the food here in Paris, or some weird combination, but that was the third time I’d fell ill in two days. After a few deep breaths in an attempt to settle the sour mess that was my stomach, I opened my tiny medicine cabinet in search of some Pepto.
I paused in my frantic search when my fingers brushed across the top of my tampon box. I scrunched my eyes, mentally counting the days. Had I really not had a period since I’d gotten to Paris? How had I not noticed that?
A wave of nausea hit me again, and I leaned over the toilet just in time.
No way. It wasn’t possible. Was it?
The minute I felt solid enough to find out, I hurried to the corner shop near my complex and purchased a multi-pack of tests. My heart raced each step I took home, forcing me to be oblivious to the beautiful Parisian architecture I normally stopped to admire.
Back in my bathroom in less time than I could think of the odds, I quickly took the test, thankful the positive and negative readings were universal in any language. Waiting as the seconds ticked by, I tried to convince myself of how highly unlikely this was. My sickness and being late on a period could very well be stress induced. And what was more stressful than undergoing a massive breakup right before plunging head first into a foreign gallery internship? Not to mention saying goodbye to Lettie. Which had broken my heart completely. Our Skype sessions were the highlight of my week, but it wasn’t enough.
I thought about the email I’d received a few days ago, filling me with hope. The Seattle gallery I’d first applied to—and had been denied due to lack of space—had written to see if I was still interested, as they had a slot opening next month.
Three more weeks and I can go home.
It wasn’t that I didn’t adore the culture that made this city beautiful, inviting, and romantic, but my heart was in Seattle. Where Lettie was; where Gage was. Just thinking his name hurt, the absence of his voice, his touch, his smell had left a cold empty hole in my heart these past few weeks. I’d been a fool to think the gallery or Paris could fill it.
The timer went off on my phone and I stood up to look at the test.
My fingers shook as I grasped it in one hand and the box in the other, triple checking the pictures to make sure those two little pink lines meant what I thought they meant.
Excitement and fear and doubt encompassed my heart like a battle between heat and ice. I set the items down and rubbed the skin of my tummy underneath my shirt.
Could this happen?
Maybe the test was a mistake? False-positives happened all the time.
I decided to wait an hour and try again—during which I pulled out my cell and googled how common vasectomies reversed on their own. Turns out, it was pretty rare but did happen to tons of couples all over the world. The process was technical, but it came down to the body healing itself, and I’d never met anyone who had worked as hard as Gage to heal himself before—not that this was the part of his body he was trying to heal. Good God…what if it did?
Finally, after waiting what seemed like forever, I took another test. Thank goodness it was my day off. If I had made this discovery while at work? I wouldn’t be able to focus even a little bit.
I paced the small length of my bedroom while waiting for the test to work, my hand on my belly and my eyes on the three bags I already had packed and ready for when I returned home in a few weeks. When the Seattle gallery had emailed me, it had been a no-brainer, and I’d instantly started preparations to make it an easy transition back home. The Paris curator wasn’t even upset, as he had countless applicants in his database who were chomping at the bit for my position.
Three bells chimed from my phone, and I froze as I silenced the alarm. The odds of two false positives were more unlikely than Gage’ vasectomy reversing on its own. My throat went dry as I slowly made my way into the bathroom, and scooped up the test.
Tears coated my eyes.
Two pink lines.
Again.
Paired with my late period, and the unexplainable aversion I’d had to food lately, and it was clear. I was pregnant with Gage’s baby. Gage, who didn’t want to have another baby. Gage, who’d refused to entertain the thought, yet had stolen my heart regardless.
I held my stomach as I sank onto the closed toilet, rubbing the skin below my navel as I tried to think of a plan. How could I explain this to him? Would he even want it? Want us?
My heart tripled in size with the thought of us.
Me and you, baby. I laughed as tears ran down my cheeks, the vision of the baby I’d dreamed about popping behind my eyes. Gage’s smile, my eyes, his hair, Lettie’s attitude. Perfection. The one thing I’d wanted more
in life than to work at a gallery.
I jolted when I heard someone pound on my door.
I rarely had visitors in the short time I’d been here, but my neighbor had taken it upon her sixty-year-old self to stop by once or twice a week asking if I’d taken the paper off her welcome mat. Honestly, I think she just wanted to have a conversation with another woman, so I always indulged whatever idle chitchat she had for me after we’d both concluded I hadn’t in fact thieved her morning paper.
“One second, Elise,” I called toward the door as the pounding continued. I quickly shut the bathroom door behind me. “I’m a little busy---“ my words died in my throat as I opened the front door.
Gage stood in my hallway, his hands pressed against the doorframe, his blue eyes wild. His black hair was mussed, his white thermal and jeans wrinkled like he’d just gotten off the plane and came straight here.
“Bailey,” he said my name like it was the first breath he’d taken in weeks.
I placed my hand on top of my belly, my heart racing. “Gage. What are you doing here?” I asked, completely shocked.
“May I come in?” He asked when I hadn’t moved from my stunned position.
“Of course,” I said, craning my neck outside the hallway, half expecting to see Lettie bounding up in her sparkly snow boots.
“She’s with my mom,” he said, stepping past me. His eyes darted around my apartment, noticing the luggage packed in the corner. “You still haven’t gotten around to unpacking everything yet?”
“No, I…” I let my hand fall off my belly, only now realized I’d still had it there. “Shouldn’t you be in Ontario?” I mentally pulled up the Shark’s schedule, almost one-hundred percent certain he should be in Canada and not here. That’s when my brain clicked into place, and I gasped, my hand over my mouth. “Oh, God. Did Helen fight the papers? Are you going to court? Do you need me there for Lettie?”
Gage closed the distance between us, his hands gently clutching my shoulders as he shook his head. “Breathe. We’re fine. Lettie is mine. Helen gave me the papers yesterday.”
A breath of air escaped me, and I used the moment to step out of his touch. “That’s a relief.”
Grinder (Seattle Sharks Book 1) Page 17