“I did,” I say, remembering summer afternoons spent running through the rows of the orchards, picking apples with my dad, making pies with my mom, and then taking a fresh pie to Aunt Angie at the bank. It felt like I had the run of Emmitsburg. “I love living in the city, but it’s a little sad our baby won’t have this kind of childhood.”
Leon is quiet for a minute, and then he shakes his head. “Wow. That is crazy. Our child. I haven’t said it out loud very much.”
“Right?” I roll a corner of the blanket up and lay my head on it. “I can’t believe I will have a baby in a little over seven months.”
I stare up at the bright blue sky—the same shade as Leon’s eyes—and wonder if that is why I’ve always felt so comfortable around him. Even when I didn’t understand why, my subconscious knew that he is a little slice of home. When I look in his eyes, I see my favorite spot on a cloudless day.
He rolls over onto his side. “Should we talk about that?”
“About what?” I ask, staring up at the sky.
If I look at him, I’m afraid of what I’ll feel. What I’ll want to do. We are alone on the edge of a wooded area, laying on a blanket after a picnic lunch. We are essentially on a date, and I’m not ready.
“Kids. Life.” He waves his hand in a loop-de-loop motion. “Philosophy.”
I sit up and wrap my arms around my knees. “Okay. You start.”
“Public school or private school?” Leon asks.
I think about it for a moment. “I never had the option for private school growing up, so I didn’t even think about that, but I think public school is important. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong—”
“Always,” Leon teases, winking at me.
“But private school doesn’t seem to mirror real life. Everyone there comes from similar backgrounds and socioeconomic status, and I want our child to be exposed to all kinds of people. But, of course, I’m open to discussing it. I’m sure you have fond memories of the private school you attended and—”
“I didn’t attend private school,” he says.
I look at him, forehead wrinkled. “You didn’t?”
He shakes his head.
“But you were rich.”
He laughs. “Not all rich people go to private school. Plus, I wasn’t actually rich growing up.”
“Oh, right. You’re a rags-to-riches story.”
“Not quite that.” He lays back down in the grass. “It was just my mom and me my whole childhood. My dad ran off before I was born, so she did her best. We didn’t have a lot, but we had enough. I wasn’t in rags.”
I stare at Leon like he has just morphed into another person. Like he shape-shifted in front of my eyes. Everything is clicking into place. In the Manhattan finance industry, I am surrounded by people who grew up around wealth. Many of them are nice people, but they seem to undervalue their employees and overvalue themselves. Even though they all have different personalities and strengths and weaknesses, they all seem to be motivated by one thing: money.
Leon always seemed different. His favorite restaurant is a small Italian place near his apartment, he takes the train to work, and he shares an office with several of his company’s executives rather than have his own. Suddenly, he makes more sense to me.
“So, how did you manage to become the CEO of FutureTrust?” I ask. “I mean, I don’t want to be rude, but that is a major accomplishment for a kid from your background.”
“You make me sound like an orphan on the streets.” He laughs, the smile making him look younger somehow. “A lot of people think I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and overcame my circumstances, and in many ways I did. But that’s not the full story. My dad was out of the picture my whole life, but his dad—my grandpa—was an accountant, and I reached out to him towards the end of high school when I was looking for my dad. My grandpa hadn’t seen my dad in ten years at that point, so he couldn’t help, but we became really close in the time we had together. When he died, he named me in his will along with his other grandkids, and I followed his advice and took the money straight to a financial advisor. A few shrewd investments later, I was a whole lot wealthier, and a lot of doors opened up for me.”
“What about your mom?” I ask.
He looks down, his lashes casting shadows across his cheekbones. “She got sick a few years ago. I got all the best doctors, but there was nothing they could do.”
My heart aches for him. I want to throw myself on top of him and protect him, as if that would help anything. Instead, I reach out and brush a finger along his arm.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” he says softly. Then, he takes a deep breath, and I can see him mentally filing the sadness away. “Okay, back to parenting.”
We agree on all of the important things. No hipster baby names, the baby will have a nanny until six months and then go to daycare, and I will breastfeed as long as possible, preferably for the first year. It all seems easy, and I feel like the entire situation could work out even better than I hoped. Except, at no point do we even broach the subject of custody. Leon came to Emmitsburg to confess his feelings for me, which implies he wants to be a couple, but with the baby bombshell, we haven’t discussed it again. And I’m not ready, too. I have no idea what I want.
I mean, yes, of course I want my child to be raised by two loving parents, and if those parents could live under the same roof, that would be great. But plenty of children thrive under co-parenting. Leon and I could have a shared custody schedule and keep things civil. It could work really well, and honestly, it might be the best option. I’m already having a baby, so starting a relationship at the same time feels overwhelming. The sensible thing to do might be to approach the situation as co-parents and keeping romance out of the mix for now. Possibly, forever.
Leon didn’t try anything romantic at our picnic or on the hike home, and even though I’d already made up my mind to keep him at arm’s length, I couldn’t ignore the part of me that was disappointed. That night, laying in my bedroom upstairs, I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Leon was sleeping on the couch just below me. That all I would have to do is creep down the stairs, and we could be together. Of course, my parents would hear the floorboards on the upstairs landing creak before I even made it to the stairs. Besides, Leon and I weren’t going to start a romance. It wasn’t in the cards. Not with the baby on the way.
Be sensible, Grace.
After a rough night of sleep, I’m sitting on the porch with my mom, watching Leon and my dad fix the roof of a shed. My mom has been hounding my dad to fix it for three weeks, and when she mentioned it over breakfast, Leon offered to take a look. Dad, still not on board with Leon being in our house and desperate to keep my mother’s opinion of him from growing any more, insisted he would oversee the project. So it is, we are watching my dad stand on the ground and bark orders at a shirtless Leon.
“Not a bad view,” Mom says, sipping her iced tea.
“Mom!” I hiss.
“I was talking about your dad,” she says, smiling so I know she’s only half telling the truth. “Leon doesn’t look too shabby himself. They must have good gyms in New York City.”
I chuckle under my breath and shake my head. “You are shameless.”
“Hey, when you get to be my age, you find that you have to enjoy every minute of every day.”
“You say that like you’re ninety,” I argue. “You’re barely fifty.”
She winces. “Don’t remind me.”
My dad calls up for Leon to straighten a board, and Leon just smiles and gives him a thumbs-up. He hasn’t said anything, but I know he is trying to earn my dad’s respect. Dad has made it no secret he isn’t fond of Leon, and I appreciate that Leon cares enough to try and change that. Because I want my dad to like him.
“Your dad just worries about you,” Mom says.
“Are you a mind reader?” I ask. “I was just thinking about him.”
“I know you were,” she says, reaching over
to place her hand on top of mine. “He wants what’s best for you, and he’s worried Leon isn’t going to take care of you.”
“Leon promised he’ll be there for the baby. He’s excited.”
She nods. “Yeah, but that isn’t the same as taking care of you.”
“I can’t think about me right now.” I lay a hand on my stomach. I know it’s too early to be showing yet, but I swear I can feel my bump protruding. “I have to take care of the baby.”
“You can’t take care of the baby without taking care of yourself,” she counters. She turns to me, voice low. “Listen, Gracie. Lord knows I can’t tell you what to do, but can I give you some advice?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No, so be quiet and listen.” She winks at me. “You deserve a good man who loves and cherishes you the way your father loves and cherishes me. We both love you so much, honey, but when you left the house, it was just the two of us. And it will be the same for you. I know that seems like a long time away now, but when your kiddo is out of the house and off in the world, you’ll need someone to be there for you, so you can’t wait until later to take care of yourself.”
I don’t know why I’m tearing up, but I am. I swipe at my eyes and shrug. “I’m not sure I know how to take care of myself. I mean, look at me. I just broke up a fake engagement, found out I’m pregnant, and now I’m living with my parents. I mean, I’m a mess.”
My mom nods in agreement.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say, trying not to laugh.
“There’s no sense denying it,” she says. “But I don’t think things are as bad for you as you think. After all, a handsome, wealthy, kind-hearted man showed up the day after you came here and has been sleeping on your parents’ couch for four nights. Clearly, he’s crazy about you.”
“You think so?” I whisper, not realizing how much I needed someone else to confirm what I suspected.
“I’m positive, Gracie girl. That boy is head over heels for you, and if you’d open your eyes, you’d realize you are in love with him, too.”
I shake my head immediately. “Love is a big word. I barely know him.”
She smiles as my dad turns around and looks at her, shaking his head like he just doesn’t know what to do with Leon.
“Love is a big word, but it is also a simple concept,” she says. “You know it when you feel it, and after enough years, you’ll be able to recognize it. Just wait, baby girl. You’ll see.”
Chapter 18
Leon
“I haven’t been here in almost ten years,” Grace says, grabbing a golf magazine off the coffee table in the waiting room. “It hasn’t changed a bit.”
The doctor’s office is housed in an old farmhouse—complete with a dilapidated barn in the back—that has been retrofitted with a receptionist’s desk and waiting room in the living room and a series of exam rooms down a single hallway. The kitchen is visible from the waiting room, through a swinging door at the back of the house and appears to still be a kitchen—probably a lounge of some kind.
“Do they have the equipment we need to satisfy your mom that everything is all right with the baby?” I ask.
“We’re in a small town, not the past,” Grace whispers. “They have everything we need.”
Grace’s mom wanted to go to the appointment with her, but Grace insisted it should just be the two of us. I had no intention of getting on her parents’ bad sides, so I didn’t say anything, but my heart noticeably swelled when Grace said she wanted me with her.
I’ve been staying at her parents’ house for four nights now, and I like them. A lot. It is easy to see where Grace got so many of her good qualities. Even though her dad clearly accepts me on probationary terms only, he is a softie, especially where it concerns Grace and Sheila. With enough time, I know he’ll come to like me. I only hope we have that time.
Grace and I haven’t discussed our relationship at all. I haven’t wanted to push the issue. Not with Grace being pregnant. She has enough to worry about without me throwing yet another big decision at her. However, that hasn’t stopped me from imagining our future together. I can see us living together in my penthouse, the guest bedroom transformed into a nursery. It would be a beautiful life, and I pray it is possible.
A curly-haired nurse calls Grace’s name and then shows us down the long hallway and into a small room. The window has been glazed with something to fog the glass and offer privacy, but the light makes it seem a lot cheerier than any other doctor’s office I’ve ever been in. The nurse tells Grace to undress and put on a robe, and then leaves. I wait in the hallway until Grace knocks on the door, letting me know she is ready.
Something about seeing her in the pale blue gown makes it all real. She is pregnant with my child. I only have a second to absorb it before someone knocks on the door again and the doctor steps into the room. He is a tall, gray-haired man with a wide smile and warm brown eyes.
“Grace,” he says, wrapping her hand in both of hers. “It’s wonderful to see you again. I hear congratulations are in order?”
“Thank you! And so good to see you too,” she says. Then, she points to me. “Dr. Faber, this is Leon.”
“The father?” Dr. Faber says, giving me a warm handshake, as well. Then, he claps his hands together as if he is breaking up a huddle. “Okay. No sense wasting time. Let’s find out how your little peanut is doing.”
Everything seems to happen in fast-forward. Grace lays back on the table after giving me strict orders to stay on the north side of her body and not approach the end of the table under any circumstances. I want to remind her I’ve already seen everything, but it seems like an uncomfortable conversation to have in front of the doctor, so I simply nod and follow orders.
Dr. Faber calls in a nurse to wheel in a metal cart with various probes and scopes on the side and a large monitor on top. “You’re a bit too early for a traditional ultrasound, so we’re going to have to use the transvaginal ultrasound. It will give us a much better visual and help me determine how far along you are more accurately.”
He dims the lights and turns on the monitor, the whole setup giving off a soft hum. I look away as he inserts the probe. I want to be mature and supportive, but being in the room right now feels like a deep dive into the fatherhood pool, and I’m not sure I’m ready for it.
“There we go,” Dr. Faber says, pointing to the screen.
I look and see a tiny white shape coming into focus, a tiny flicker in the center of it. My heart swells. I know immediately that is the heartbeat. An actual heartbeat.
Suddenly, Grace reaches out and grabs my hand. I look down and, even in the dark, I can see there are tears in her eyes.
“There’s the heartbeat,” Dr. Faber says distractedly. He’s moving the probe around, his eyes narrowed at the screen.
Grace must sense the same thing I do because she tightens her grip on my hand. “Is something wrong?”
“Well, that depends,” he says, pointing to the screen. “How do you feel about buying everything in triplicate?”
Grace and I look at one another, confused. “What do you mean?”
Dr. Faber hits a few buttons on the monitor, and the visual on the screen zooms in. Enlarged, I can see the same white spot I saw before with the little flicker, but then I see a thin white line going from the top of the screen to the bottom followed by another little white spot with a flicker. Then, I see a second line and a third white spot with the same flicker as the other two. I see the information on the screen, and somewhere deep in my brain I know what it means, but I’m unable to conceive of it. So, instead, I just stare at the screen, my face entirely blank.
“This is baby number one,” Dr. Faber says, pointing to the first spot. “And then over here are babies number two and three. You, Miss Grace, are having triplets.”
Triplets. The word hits me over the head like a brick, and it is a wonder I remain standing at all.
I look down at Grace, and she is staring at the screen the way I was jus
t a moment ago, and then she laughs. And it is a big laugh. Head thrown back, mouth open, eyes watering. She shakes her head.
“No, I’m not. I’m not. I can’t possibly be.”
“You are,” Dr. Faber insists, freezing the screen and printing out a photo. An image rolls out of the side of the machine like from an instant camera, and he hands it to her, pointing at each of the babies again. “One, two, three.”
Grace remains wide-eyed, staring at the picture. “This can’t be real. We didn’t even mean to have one baby.”
Dr. Faber gives her an uncomfortable smile and then looks at me as if to say you got this? I want to scream at him that I don’t, but instead, I nod and kneel down next to the bed as he slips from the room.
“Grace?” I have no idea what I’m going to say. What can I say? I’m still reeling from the news myself.
She looks up at me, eyes wide, pupils dilated. She’s in a full-on panic.
I grab her wrist, and I can feel her pulse thundering against my fingertips. I grab both of her hands in mine and press them to my chest.
“Breathe,” I say with authority.
She takes a shuddering breath in and out.
“Breathe,” I repeat, reminding myself to do the same.
Together, we breathe in and out until our hearts aren’t thundering quite so loud.
“I can’t do this,” Grace says, her voice cracking. She closes her eyes and tears leak out of the corners.
My heart breaks. The last few months have been a whirlwind for her. Nothing but questions and decisions and staring at the road ahead of her and wondering which path to take. And now, suddenly, she’s about to be a mother of three.
In her mind, I know she is seeing herself taking this on alone. I know she’s thinking about how she will manage, especially since her job with Sebastian’s company is no longer guaranteed. How long can she reasonably live with her parents with three babies to feed?
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