Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“Okay, stop hogging. My turn.” Megan rubs her hands together before reaching toward us.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask, handing him off.
“He ran to grab the pizza,” Tucker says.
Ah, yes. The pizza. It’s a White family tradition. Any time a sister has a baby, their first meal is always pizza from the little place in Scottsdale where Mom and Dad had their first date four decades ago. Once the manager casually mentioned to my father he was thinking of shuttering the doors so he could retire—which is when my dad promptly made a phone call and found a buyer on the spot.
“Knock, knock …” A man stands in the doorway, obscured by a massive floral arrangement chock full of every kind of blue flower in existence. Hydrangea. Hyacinth. Forget-me-nots. Morning glories. Cornflowers …
As soon as he lowers it, my mood sinks.
“Grant!” Mom rises from her chair and throws her arms around him, like she hasn’t seen him in decades. “So glad you could make it!”
“The big guy called a little bit ago and gave me the news,” he says. “I was in the area, so I thought I’d stop by for a bit.”
The big guy.
So it was my dad who spilled the beans …
My dad who also knew that I was here.
“Brie, hi.” He pulls away from my mother, gaze fixed on me as if he’s seeing me for the first time all over again. “Wasn’t sure if you’d be here or not.”
Right …
I stand and give him a hug because everyone’s watching and I’m not about to make Alana’s moment about me in any way, shape, or form.
“So good to see you, babe.” Grant squeezes me tight, and for longer than necessary. “Looking amazing. As always.”
Now I know that isn’t true.
I literally hopped off the plane, found a crowded restroom on the other side of security, tied my greasy hair back, and freshened up before ordering an Uber and making a beeline for the hospital.
“Thanks for the flowers, Grant,” Alana says from the bed. “So thoughtful of you.”
“Here, take my chair.” Megan stands, Bodhi still cradled in her arms, and offers Grant her chair before handing my nephew off to his mother.
Grant wastes no time claiming the spot next to where I was seated, and he lifts his brows as he waits for me to sit back down.
“You know, I’m actually going to grab something to drink from the cafeteria. Anyone want anything? Megan? Alana? Mom? Tuck?” I scan the room, waiting for orders that never come.
“I could use a coffee actually,” Grant says. “Mind if I tag along?”
I offer a cordial nod and force some semblance of a smile, and he follows out the door and down the hall. We pass the nursery before we get to the elevator, and he stops for a moment to gaze inside.
“Can’t wait to have one of our own someday,” he says, though I’m not sure if he’s speaking to himself or to me.
One of our own …
I think of Cainan’s words, about Grant being like a dog with a bone. And I think of my promise to yank that bone and toss it over the fence. I didn’t want to do it here, on the maternal recovery floor of Phoenix General, but I’m going on about four hours of sleep and my self-control is waning.
“I could really use some caffeine …” I point to the elevator.
He peels his gaze from the sleeping babes. “Right. Sorry.”
We ride to the main level beside a pair of grandparents wearing “visitor” stickers that match ours, and Grant stands so close to me I can smell his cinnamon toothpaste. As soon as we disembark, I inhale a lungful of sterilized hospital air and walk two steps ahead of him.
“Babe. Wait up. What’s the hurry?” Grant trots behind me, his dress shoes scuffing the floor with each step.
I stop in my tracks and turn to face him. “I can’t do this.”
He frowns.
“You’re smothering me,” I blurt.
A thirty-something pregnant woman in a hospital gown shuffles past, elbowing her husband as he gawks at our mini scene.
“You call me every day. You text me multiple times a day. You still call me babe,” I say. “And then you showed up at the hospital.”
“Your father invited me …” his words are slow and careful.
“You and I both know why he invited you.” A table full of nurses in pink scrubs, all of them lunching on colorful salads, peer our way. “I broke up with you last month. We’re over. And nothing you can say or do is going to change that. Please leave me alone.”
“Leave you alone?” he scoffs. “Is that what you really want?”
“Yes.” It takes all the self-control I have not to scream it from the rooftops.
“This is about Cainan.” He laughs. Not the reaction I was expecting. “Of course.”
“Not sure I follow …”