His face skews even more. “Yeah, about that. Turns out, he wasn’t.”
My eyes peel back. “What? What do you mean?”
“That Mazie-diner night? I saw him earlier, and it clicked.” He spins me around and nods to Cally. “How could I feel something so deep for her in a matter of seconds, but he… never once did he care.” Grayson turns me back to face him then pushes my hair off my face. “Anyway, I called him on it. He didn’t disagree. Randall’s not my dad.”
“Well…” I lean against him as he lays his arm over my shoulder. “God, Gray. I’m not sure what to say.”
“Confusing, right?”
I angle into him and study his expression. “Yeah.”
“I hate him.” His lips press into a flat line, making their color fade. His eyebrows bite together. “The bastard was mean. A nasty, angry drunk. He hated the world and hated me. But, God…”
“What?”
“I think he really loved my mom. She was with him, right? So, he couldn’t have been all bad, maybe, a lifetime ago.”
“You don’t know that,” I whisper. “People stay in relationships for a lot of reasons. A weakness, guilt, a soft spot.”
“Guess it doesn’t matter.”
“So, who’s your biological dad?”
Grayson shrugs. “No idea. If he knew about me and still left me, fuck him for that. If he didn’t know I existed, then that’s the way it goes.”
“So, is there a funeral? Or what happens?”
“Nothing. I’m not planning it.”
I nod. I never thought about what happens when a person no one cares about dies. “How’d you find out?”
“Cops knew what hotel I was staying at, and Mazie was still there. Front-desk girl directed them to my fiancée.”
“Wow.”
“She said sorry again, by the way. The girl feels like shit about how you two met.”
I watch Cally play in the grass with her toys. “If she’s your friend, I don’t hate her. I was just caught off guard.”
“She’s nuts. That happens a lot.”
I laugh. “Okay. But about Pops.”
“What about the asshole…”
Gray’s right to feel that way. “So, which has been bugging you—Pops dying or knowing he wasn’t your dad?”
“Actually, neither.” He pulls me under his arm and holds me close.
I love the way he smells and the way I fit in the crook of his arm, and right now, I love how I can feel how calmly his heart beats. “But something’s been up.”
“I’ve been thinking about Cally—or really, about me. If we’re going to tell her that I’m her dad, then I want to think about what kind of dad I’ll be. I’m terrified my past will come back to haunt me. But, you know, mind over matter. I won’t be Pops. I just refuse.”
My eyes slip closed. Sometimes, I can’t believe the amount of love that comes from this guy. It was like he was meant to be a dad, to make up for all the evil inflicted upon him.
Grayson’s grip flexes into my shoulder. “Think I can be a good dad, considering my example?”
“Of course you can.” I put my hand over his. “Plus, he wasn’t the only example you had growing up.”
“Ryan and I talked about your folks a bit—”
Ryan? That catches me off guard. “You did?”
He nods, folding me to him and pressing his chin to the top of my head. “Your dad treated me like a son sometimes. Doing guy stuff. Camping, basketball practice, stuff like that.”
“I know.” Having Gray as a sort-of brother made for some confusion when we were growing up.
“But I’ve also made some bad choices. Like enlisting when I freaked out and walking away from you instead of telling you the truth.”
“That was years ago,” I say, hating that he still can’t let go of his guilt.
“They were still my decisions.” Grayson moves so that we face each other. “I want a good life with the two of you more than I want to regret my past or worry over how Pops will affect my future.”
“You can do that.”
“I have to believe if you want it badly enough…”
Deep inside, I ache for him. “The only thing you need to do is forgive yourself.” I want to beg him, to force him, but I can’t. All I can do is make sure he knows that I believe in him. “I need you to do that, Gray. For all of us.”
He stares at me in a way I can only describe as adoration. It warms me from the inside out. He needs me as much as I need him. “Grayson, however it happened, this is us. We either make progress toward our future or we drown in our excuses. You’re not going to let Pops dictate your life. Right?”
“I won’t.”
“I’ll say this as clearly as I can. The wrong choice, bad people… I don’t know, sometimes we deal with those things because they bring us to the right spot and make us ready for the future.”
He blinks. “You believe that?”
“Down to my soul, Grayson.” I watch him, willing my belief to sink into him. “And when you do too, I’ll know our life can be okay.”
CHAPTER NINE
Grayson
Another new day in my new life, and it’s pretty effin’ sweet. I’m dribbling a pink bouncy ball in the living room. Cally is hiding behind the couch, completely sure that I cannot see her and giggling up a storm. “Where she’d go? Anyone see Cally Bear?”
“Rwar!” She roars her loudest, and damn cutest, bear growl.
I spin the opposite direction. “She’s over here?”
Giggle. Squeak. Giggle.
Jumping to the TV, I look around the cable boxes and pretend she’s slipped behind the flat screen, all the time dribbling the ball and bouncing it between my legs as I turn—which always makes her squeal louder. “Where’d she go? Cally Bear?”
Giggle. Squeal! Giggle.
I spin. “Ah, there she is!” And I bound across the living room in two strides, throwing myself onto the couch and tapping her head with the pink ball that I have palmed in one hand. “Gotcha, kid.”
“Got me! Got me, got me.” She takes off and runs around the room after snagging the ball from me, and then she circles and dives onto the couch.
I grab her up, hold her in the air, and her legs plank and her arms are flying.
“Whee,” she screams. “Highwer!”
Tipping her to the side, then bringing her back up, I’m dropping airplane noises like I was meant to do this. Because I was.
She tosses her head back, laughing as I land “the plane” on my chest, and she bounces, begging for more. But Emma’s sleeping in, and I’m sure that too much more will wake her.
“How about this? You hungry?”
Her eyes go wide and her head nods wildly.
“You already had breakfast though.” I pretend to shake her little shoulders. “Are you sure there’s room in that belly?”
“Yeah!”
“Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe we make room.” I tickle her, and she laughs so hard I’m concerned she might pee. “Alright.”
I jump up, tucking her under one arm. Her legs bicycle in the air as if she’s taking her trike down a racetrack.
“Let’s see what we can do for a mid-morning snack.” I put her on the kitchen counter and take a step back, analyzing Cally’s perch on the edge. Nope, that has disaster written all over it—broken bones, missing teeth. Emma would kick my ass.
“Jump on.” I turn and hook her onto my back. She climbs up me like a tree, locking her arms around my neck, and we head to the cabinet.
Snacks. What to do for a fun snack? Easy—the girl likes pancakes. She flipped her lid for syrup with Cherry, so… here we go. I grab some granola with M&Ms in it and some vanilla extract, then I hit the fridge for… chocolate syrup.
“What do you think, kiddo?”
“Good!”
On my way to the pantry, I grab the bananas. Surely there’s got to be pancake batter in Emma’s kitchen, right?
I search cabinet after cabinet. Wha
t the double deuce—no pancake batter? Big fail. Damn. “No pancakes. Time to regroup.”
Cally’s hand extends and points to a container. I grab whatever it is, hoping I can do something fun for a snack and—I read the label. “Add water and shake.” Well, alright. My girl found me pancake batter. “We’re a go for pancakes.”
“Go!”
I head back to the counter, where my pile of extra ingredients sits, and I search every single cabinet and drawer for a measuring cup, finally finding it in the last one. Doors are open, and things are reshuffled. Cally laughs in my ear, and I act as if we’re not going to survive if we don’t make pancakes. She pushes me to pull it together, and I can see myself in her as she issues a strategy to get what she wants.
The kitchen resembles a disaster zone. I peel the bananas and pour the granola onto a plate, plucking out the M&Ms, then fill the measuring cup. “Water.”
“Water,” she repeats and helps me pour it in, singing, “P’cakes, p’cakes, I wuv p’cakes.”
I drop some extract and M&Ms in, add a squirt of chocolate syrup, then screw on the cap. “Now, shake.” Her arms hook around my neck, and we stomp around the kitchen, shaking the pancake batter until the powder mix has liquefied. We probably go a few minutes more than we need to, but what the hell.
It takes a few minutes for me to get the griddle going. Cally bores quickly during that part of the pancake-making process and sits under the table in her “fort” with her dolls, talking to them about chocolate syrup. In the last few minutes, while she’s worked alongside me and played on her own, I can see Emma’s sweetness and my tenacity in her. This is pretty much the most fun I’ve had in a kitchen. Ever.
I make a few circles of different sizes, just enough for a snack, and flip them through the air and onto plates. Most of the pancakes make my target. A couple hit the floor. All of the tosses earn a giggle.
“Ready to decorate?”
“Weady!” Her arms shoot up, and I grab her around the waist, hoisting her high before landing her on the counter.
I’m sure there is a rule about counter sitting, but… I keep a hand on her and decide to check in on that rule possibility later. “This is what we do. Bananas—” I drop the slices onto the plate “Take some of these, and toss ’em on.”
Cally grabs and smashes the bananas then tosses them onto the pancakes and eats what’s left in her hand.
“Good?”
She nods.
“Sweet. Next, the chocolate.”
Her eyes go big, and based on the excitement exploding on her face, I decide that squirting the chocolate onto the plate is really a Cally-Daddy four-handed project. After enough chocolate syrup, I grab two forks and the plate and piggyback her to the big-girl chair.
“You good?”
She scrambles and shuffles, scooting around in the chair as I set the plate down. After a quick arrangement, we get down to serious business. I chop up the pancakes, and we dig in. They are unreal. Seriously, I am a master dessert-pancake snack chef. “These things are genius.”
“Yeah.” Her head bobs up and down. She’s eating with her mouth kind of open and chocolate smeared on her chin and cheeks.
“Someone’s going to have to hose you down.”
She giggles and stabs more pancakes off our shared pile. “Good.” She chomps on her pancake. “Weally good.”
“I agree.” We clink forks, and after a couple more bites, I let mine drop to the plate. It clatters, and I lean back in my seat. She does the same and leans back, mimicking me.
“We did a good job, Cally Bear.”
“Yeah.”
“You like me okay?”
“Yeah,” she says. Her sugary grin warms me from the inside out.
“Think we should go wake your mom?”
“Nooo,” she giggles and shakes her head.
“You sure?”
“We can jwump on her.”
I laugh, raising my eyebrows. “We could jump on her.”
Covered in our snack explosion, she squeals and slides out of her chair. “Mama!”
I bound behind her and scoop her up. We head into Emma’s—no, our—bedroom and jump on the bed. Cally lands on my pillow, and I cage myself over Emma as our girl ducks under my arms and snuggles into her mom. “Tickle!”
We tickle Emma, and she squeaks and laughs, sounding exactly like our daughter. It’s in that sticky, laughing moment that I have no doubt I’m going to do this parenting thing right.
CHAPTER TEN
Grayson
Today is the day, and I haven’t been able to sit still as I pace from the living room to the kitchen. Hell, not only is today the day, but the hour is upon us. It’s time to try to explain to Cally what’s happening and where the future goes. I get it. She’s two—albeit a very mature two-year-old, in my opinion, but two nonetheless. I have no idea if she’ll understand anything I tell her. If she does, maybe she’ll like it and maybe she won’t.
The sound of a squirming kid plays from the monitor. “She’s up.”
Emma’s smile lights my world. “Yup. I’ll go get her.”
I nod and take a sip of my Mountain Dew then cap it, deciding that I don’t need any more caffeine. I’m wired enough. I’m seriously going to jump out of my skin. I bounce on my toes then pace the kitchen.
“Hey, Snugglebug.” The lights on the baby monitor jump as Emma pulls Cally from her toddler bed. “Up, up, up, and at ’em.”
“Wuv you, Mama.” The sweet, soft sound of her sleep-soaked voice makes me give a stupid grin. I know I have this goofy look on my face right now, but I’m just… pumped. This is really happening, and even though Cally won’t really get it, I will. Thanks to these girls, I have another day that I’ll never forget. It’s enough to erase the bad ones that have clouded my mind for years.
Emma rounds the corner into the kitchen with a sleepy-eyed Cally held to her chest. Her blond hair is mussed with bed head, and her just-waking green eyes are identical to mine.
“Do you want some crackers, baby?” Emma asks.
She nods but not before Cally smiles and waves hi to me. There is no doubt: this kid is going to be a daddy’s girl.
“Alright.” She places Cally in a chair and fastens a buckle on her lap. “Let’s get you situated in the big-girl chair with your snack, and then we have a big-girl conversation for you.”
I drop to a chair at the table and perch on the edge. My blood thumps, and my knees bounce. Emma calmly lays out a plate of crackers and a milk box.
“So…” Emma sits on the other side of Cally. “We have something fun to tell you. It’s big-girl news.”
Cally’s megawatt smile flashes, and she excitedly nods, using some real words and some fake ones to explain how she can handle whatever we have to share. My hand crosses the table and takes Emma’s. Cally’s eyes briefly drop to the handhold, but her crackers are also in her line of sight, so she takes one of those.
“Snugglebug, you like Grayson?”
She nods and gnaws on her cracker, letting crumbs fall. “Uh-huh.”
“I do too.” Emma squeezes my hand. “I love him.”
I squeeze her hand back. “And I love your mommy,” I tell Cally. “And you, too.”
Cally smiles but keeps gnawing on her cracker. Emma flicks the crumbs off the corner of Cally’s mouth with her free hand. “He loves both of us very much, and he’s going to stay in our house.”
“Forever,” I add. I’m not sure why, but I just had to get that in there—more for my benefit than for Emma’s.
“Forever,” Emma agrees, and we both watch Cally. “We’ll be a family. So, like a mommy and a daddy, and you’re our baby.”
“Like my baby.” Cally takes another mouthful of cracker.
“Right.” Emma nods and smiles. “Just like you take care of your baby, Grayson will take care of you. Make sense?”
She nods and goes on to babble unknown words in a singsong tone. I don’t know that she understands anything we said, but God, the
kid has no idea how tied in knots I’ve been, and that one simple nod has done a hell of a lot to loosen the pressure.
“Because I am your daddy.”
Cally watches me, munching on her cracker but now also very inquisitive, as if her growing brain is pulling together all the pieces of this conversation. “Okay.”
Her silliness has stilled, and I can feel this conversation inside my chest, so deep it’s killing me. Talking about telling Cally was one thing. Hearing it out loud—fuck me—that’s some kind of miracle that terrifies me. I clear my throat. “Are you okay with that, Cally Bear?”
She toys with her cracker, and it dawns on me that these are just words. She must know a ton of dads, but having her own wasn’t a part of her world until now. The complexity of this moment is probably well behind my years.
“Daddy,” she says, her little mind assigning that to me.
I nod, my throat burning. “Yup.”
Her green eyes shine. I know she’s too young to get any of this, but it looks as if she’s assessing me just as she did the first day she met me. I can’t take a single breath until she finishes her two-year-old analysis. Blood rushes to my ears, and my collar feels tight. I’ve been through basic training, been shot hanging off a helicopter, been beaten within an inch of my life, but right now feels as though it could break me if it went wrong.
Finally, she grins again and makes her cracker dance across the table.
“Okay,” I say, almost gasping for air.
“Okay,” Emma says, too.
Title of Daddy has been officially bestowed. Emma bites her mouth and wipes her eyes. I lean back in the chair, my conscience clear, my heart full… probably for the first time ever.
Cally finishes her crackers and ignores her milk box. Emma unbuckles her, helps her slide down, and then puts the milk in the fridge.
Clapping my hands together, I realize I’ve got to do something, or I’ll lose my mind. “Alright, good talk.”
My little girl launches herself onto me, and I drop back to the chair, letting her crawl into my lap. Her little head rests on my chest. Aw, shit. This girl makes my eyes burn.
I drape my arms around her. “God, I love you, kid.”
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