“Oh, hell!” I cried as I sliced my finger across the blade of the knife.
“What?” Grant asked. He was just coming into the kitchen, ready to prepare the marinated meat now that the grill was getting hot.
I didn’t have to answer. He could see the blood pouring into the sink as I continued to mumble under my breath.
“Addison!”
He said it like I was a child who’d just gotten caught doing something I’d been told dozens of times before not to do. But his touch was gentle when he came around me and gripped my wrist to take a look at the wound.
“It’s deep,” he said.
“No, it just looks that way,” I said, trying to reassure him even though it was my finger that was throbbing under the cold water.
He grabbed a towel out of nearby drawer and wrapped it around my hand as he pulled it out of the water. Immediately the white towel turned crimson as blood continued to flow.
“We should go to the hospital.”
“We have people coming over.”
“I’m sure they’ll understand.”
He pulled me toward the front of the apartment, but the elevator opened practically at that moment and Kevin held up a bottle of wine.
“Chardonnay,” he announced as his eyes fell to my wrapped hand and Grant’s grip on my wrist. “What’s going on?”
“She cut herself,” Grant said, pointing out the obvious.
“It’s not that bad.”
“I’m the doctor,” Kevin said, setting the wine down on a low table in the entryway and coming to check it out. He made a sort of tick-tick sound with his tongue. “You need stitches.”
“Told you,” Grant said where he still stood practically pressed against my back.
“It’s not that bad,” I insisted.
“Bad enough,” Kevin said. “I have a kit down in my car. I’ll go see if there are sutures in it.”
“What should I do?” Grant asked.
“Have her keep it elevated.”
“I am standing here,” I reminded them both. But, of course, they ignored me.
As Kevin got on the elevator again, Grant tried to pull me into the living room, but the towel was no longer soaking up the blood and it was beginning to drip.
“I don’t want to get the furniture bloody.”
Grant rerouted himself, guiding me to the guest bathroom under the stairs. I sat on the toilet and sighed, watching the blood drip into the white sink.
“Do you feel dizzy?” Grant asked. “Nauseous?”
“No. I’m fine. I just feel stupid.”
He knelt in front of me, his hands moving over my swollen belly. “Are you sure? Should I call an ambulance?”
I looked at him and saw the concern etched into his face. I ran the thumb of my uninjured hand over his lips.
“I’m okay, babe. Really.”
“There’s so much blood.”
“There’s going to be tons more in the delivery room. Are you going to be like this then?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I might be.”
I kissed him. “My big, strong man.”
He groaned, but that concern was still etched on his face when he pulled away.
Kevin came back a minute later, a very untraditional-looking medical bag under his arm. It was blue and green, and it didn’t have the big handles or a red cross on it. Instead, it looked like something a woman might use to pack her cosmetics in.
“How disappointing,” I said.
Kevin just shook his head, his attention drawn to my hand. He carefully unwrapped it again and squeezed some disinfectant over it.
“What were you cutting?”
“Tomatoes.”
“At least it wasn’t jalapenos.”
I laughed, but Grant stood and nudged his brother’s shoulder.
“Not a good time for jokes.”
“It’s a perfect time for jokes,” Kevin said. “You need to lighten up, brother.”
“That’s my wife’s hand you’re about to put stitches in. I think you should be paying attention.”
“I am.”
“Not making jokes.”
“Grant,” I said, “maybe you should go finish dinner.”
“No. I’m not going anywhere.”
“She’s right,” Kevin said, turning and pushing Grant toward the door. “This is only a two-person job and you aren’t one of those persons.”
“But I want to—”
Kevin shut the door and turned the thumb lock. I laughed even though I knew there was probably a vein ready to pop in Grant’s temple.
“You’re very brave.”
Kevin winked at me. “Been here before. He’ll calm down.”
He studied my finger again. Grant slammed his hand against the door, but then he was gone, his footsteps vibrating through the apartment.
“I don’t have any lidocaine,” Kevin said, “but it looks like you only need two or three stitches.”
“No painkiller?”
“Sorry. Would you rather go to the hospital?”
I shook my head, even though everything inside of me was screaming that we should.
“Just look away and keep your mind on something else.”
I snorted. “Easier said than done.”
I watched as he got all his tools out and prepared a bandage. Then he looked at me.
“I’m going to start.”
I nodded. And bit down hard on my bottom lip.
“Have you guys decided on any names yet?” he asked as he ran the first stitch under my skin and punctured the flesh with his needle.
I groaned. “No.”
“Any possibilities?”
I couldn’t think of any at the moment, even though there were several we’d been debating not fifteen minutes before I cut myself.
“Stay with me,” Kevin said, glancing at me.
“I have a question,” I said, watching as he ran the needle through the other side of the wound, tugging at it to bring the skin carefully together. It hurt like hell, but I needed to watch. I was just one of those people.
“Anything.”
“What do you know about your father?”
He glanced at me, clearly surprised. “John McGraw? Not much. I was just a toddler when he left.”
“Was it ever a happy marriage?”
He made a shrugging motion, his eyes locked on my cut. “I don’t know. You’d be better off asking Grant.”
“Has he ever talked to you about your father?”
“Some. Not a lot.”
He had one stitch completed. Now he was going in for the second.
I gritted my teeth.
“And John McGraw is his father, too?”
Kevin’s eyebrows rose. “Has he not talked to you about this?”
“You know your brother. He likes his secrets.”
Kevin dug his needle into the cut again, sliding it through one side of the wound and quickly catching the other side, pulling it tight as my vision darkened for a second.
Damn, it hurts!
“You’re doing good,” he said softly. He tied the two ends into a knot and cut the excess. Then he focused on me before setting up for the third stitch. “Maybe you should ask him about this.”
“I just…I found something in my father’s things. And I’m not sure what to do about it.”
“Talk to Grant.”
“But you knew he had a different father?”
Kevin nodded as he again dug into my wound with his needle. “That’s something my mother made quite clear to us both. She wasn’t ashamed. And she didn’t think we should be, either.”
“Why would you be?”
Kevin shook his head again. “I think that stems back to my father. Maybe it had something to do with why he left.”
That made sense. If I were a man whose wife gave birth to another man’s child eight months after our wedding, I think it might be an issue for me. Clearly it had been for John McGraw.
Kevin finished the las
t stitch.
“Well, if you can do that, I think childbirth will be a breeze.”
“I certainly hope so.”
He wrapped the finger in a piece of gauze then began to clean up. “The baby moving well?”
I nodded. “For a couple of days now.”
“Are you getting enough sleep? Enough to eat?”
I gestured toward the door. “Do you think I could do otherwise with him around?”
Kevin smiled. “He’s pretty intense, isn’t he?” Then he chuckled. “I can just see it now. If that kid’s a girl, he’ll be out buying guns before she’s three to fend off potential suiters.”
I laughed, too. “I’m sure he will.”
Grant knocked on the door again. “Everything alright in there?”
“Fine, babe.” I stood and opened the door, holding up my bandaged finger. “All fixed.”
He pulled me against his chest and kissed me. “Good.”
Kevin just shook his head.
We moved out to the balcony after Kevin had his mess cleaned up. Grant opened the wine and poured the two of them a glass, handing me the good old standby, apple juice. I watched them kid around with each other, wondering if we had more than one child, if they would get along as well as the two of them. I hoped so.
The intercom sounded as we were sitting there, listening to the meat sizzle on the grill. Grant excused himself to see who was waiting for entrance from the doorman. Kevin glanced at me, concern etched into his face as it had been on his brother’s earlier.
“Tread carefully, Addison,” he said. “Grant’s biological father is a sensitive subject for him.”
Before I could answer, Grant returned with a little wink meant only for me.
Angela was here.
“Be back. Pregnancy bladder.”
Kevin smiled, watching me go without question. Instead of the bathroom, however, I went to the elevator to head Angela off.
“Don’t be mad,” I said as soon as the elevator doors opened.
“What’d you do?”
“Kevin’s here.”
She shook her head, turning back to board the elevator. I snagged her sleeve and made her turn back around.
“Just talk to him. Please.”
“I don’t know what to say to him. He made himself clear before.”
“But he loves you, Angela. And you love him.”
“I can’t.” Tears filled her eyes. “We said things…”
“Just, stay. Have dinner with us. You don’t have to say two words to him.”
She looked at me. “I know what you’re doing, but you just…you weren’t there.”
“But I was.”
I turned and Grant sort of shrugged. He and Kevin were standing behind us. Kevin’s eyes were glued to Angela’s. It was like I wasn’t even there.
I slipped around him and grabbed Grant’s hand, pulling him back out on the balcony. We could see them talking, could even hear a word every few sentences. But not enough to know what they were saying to each other. But when Kevin drew Angela into his arms, it was pretty obvious that they were working things out.
“Looks like we might be eating alone,” I said.
Grant settled down on the arm of my chair and shrugged. “I could think of worse things.”
Chapter 31
I waited. I debated. I argued with myself. It was getting to the point that Grant could tell there was something going on with me. He kept asking if taking care of my dad’s house was too much. And it was so much. But that wasn’t what kept me distracted and made me slip out of our bed in the middle of the night, my head too full for my body to get comfortable.
A month passed. The furniture was removed from my dad’s house.
Another month and the papers and personal effects slowly followed, each marked for its final destination.
Another month and the house was cleaned, ready to be put on the market for sale.
One more month and it was sold, the money following everything else into the trust for the baby. This was going to be one very wealthy baby someday, even if things went south for Grant and me.
Four months and I was huge. It was more than a beach ball. Maybe a blimp would be more appropriate for a description. I was so big that I couldn’t even walk straight. Grant wouldn’t let me go to the project sites anymore. And when I walked through a store, people were constantly trying to get me to sit down, even strangers. It was becoming a joke around the office. They tried not to invite me to meetings that were going to last longer than an hour because they knew I couldn’t sit still that long. If my bladder didn’t force me up, the pressure on my back did.
I was absolutely miserable. And I had this unresolved thing hanging over me that I felt an urgency to take care of before the baby was born. I told myself it was about the baby’s genetic heritage. But I didn’t quite believe it.
It was a secret. And I hated that Grant still had secrets from me.
I finally broke down and called Billy.
We met at a diner halfway between the project site and the office. He stood when I came waddling into the diner, my belly barely confined in the billowy top I was wearing.
“You look ready to pop,” he said.
“I wish I was. But the doctor says at least three more weeks.”
“Well, I guess you have to let the little buggers cook as long as possible,” he said, kissing my cheek lightly.
I carefully took a seat in the chair he pulled out for me, a little embarrassed when he had to pull the chair even farther back so that my belly would fit. And then he settled across from me and slid the menu across the table to me. I watched him as he made his choices, wondering if there was something about him that I could see in Grant. The knowledge of their relationship changed the way I looked at him. And, suddenly, I became aware of things about his expressions, about the way he moved, that were very familiar. But was that because I knew him so well—or thought I did—or was that because he was Grant’s father?
We both ordered the same hamburger. I couldn’t seem to get enough red meat in these final months of pregnancy. Grant joked that the baby would be born with a hamburger in his or her mouth. I was sometimes afraid he was right.
“You look good,” Billy said after the waitress took our orders.
“I feel like a cow.”
“You shouldn’t say that. I’ve always thought pregnant women were the most beautiful women.”
“I’m sure your wife appreciated that.”
“Yes, well, she’s blessed me over and over again with children for a reason.”
He winked and I blushed. It was like walking in on your parents having sex. Just weird.
“How’s Grant?” he asked.
“Excited. Scared. Worried.”
“He loves you.”
I nodded. “I love him, too.”
Billy smiled. “That’s the first time since that summer I’ve heard you say that.”
I tilted my head slightly. “You were the only one who was wholeheartedly behind us that summer.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I get a kick out of young love.”
“Did you know what my dad did? Did you know he was going to do it?”
The playfulness left Billy’s face. “I didn’t know beforehand, no.”
“But you knew.”
“I did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It wasn’t my place.”
I nodded, my eyes still working over his face, still searching for something, though I was no longer sure what it was.
“Did he find out you were his father? Was that why he left?”
Billy reared up like something had stung him. He looked out the window, his expression totally unreadable, what I could see of it. And then he focused on me again, his dark eyes like steal on my face. That’s when I saw it, when I saw the undeniable truth in his eyes, in his features, in the face that was so much like my husband’s.
“You should go talk to him about that.”
“I’m talking to you.”
“It’s his business, Addison. If he didn’t want you to know—”
“He has his secrets. And I think that has a lot to do with you.”
Billy’s eyes narrowed slightly, but then his chin dropped. A second later, he was nodding in agreement.
“You’re right. That’s probably my fault. Because I let that man take Jenna from me, let him marry her and treat her like crap because I wasn’t man enough to sober up and do the right thing when she told me she was pregnant.” He pressed his hands to the tabletop, staring at them with an intensity that almost hurt me. Then he looked at me and I was surprised to see tears in his eyes. “I was a drunk, Addison. Bad news. And that made me push away the first person who ever saw through the anger and the booze, to push her away and leave her to live a miserable life with a man I thought would be better for her. And by the time I realized how bad things were, it was too late. She refused to leave him.”
“And then he left her.”
“And she wouldn’t let me help her. Wouldn’t even let me give her the little bit of money I was able to offer.”
“But you knew about Grant. Knew where he was. Why did you not tell him who you were?”
“She asked me not to. And I couldn’t blame her. I was a mess when she knew me. It wasn’t until three years later that I met your dad, that he gave me a job and a purpose. And it was another five years before I met my wife and put my life back together with her. Jenna…she couldn’t trust the man I was before that, so she didn’t trust the man I’d become.”
“And then she died.”
“And I wanted to help them out. I did.” He glanced out the window again, memories clearly dancing on the glass for him. “But it was too late. He was so angry. So when he showed up on the site, destroyed that stuff, I thought it was my opportunity to right a few wrongs. I did the best I could, saving him from your dad, giving him a skill. And when he said he was going to run away with you, I thought it was the best thing that could happen to him. But then he came to me on the site, a picture and a birth certificate in his hand. I guess your dad had had him investigated and gave him a copy of the file. He was so angry…and when I told him my story, he just got real quiet. Then he left. It wasn’t until later that I found out he’d left you behind.”
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