chapter fourteen
Damn her.
I was supposed to be working on the list. Arranging for her last months to be full of friends, family and extraordinary experiences. Why did she have to go and ruin that with her ridiculous request? All I can do is sit here and think about everything she said. She doesn’t know what she wants. It must be her disease making her say those crazy things. The baby would be much better off with an adoptive couple who would love it, not a mom who doesn’t even want it and a dad who will be grieving for God knows how long.
If I weren’t pregnant, I know exactly what I’d be doing. Getting drunk. No, plastered is more like it. I want to forget everything that has happened in the past two days. I want to go back to the way things were. Life was easy then. All I had to do was pick out what I was going to wear to work and make my customers happy. Now, I have to help pick out a casket and grant a dying woman her last wishes.
I don’t know how long I’ve been lying here when I suddenly feel strange. My stomach flutters and I wonder if I’m going to puke again. I close my eyes and breathe, trying to stave off my would-be sickness when it dawns on me that something incredible is happening. These flutters I’m feeling, as light as a butterfly’s wings, it’s not nausea, it’s the baby moving. Oh, God.
My hand instinctively goes to my belly as I concentrate on feeling the sensation. He’s in there. There’s actually a living, breathing human growing inside of me. I mean, I’ve known it all along. I even saw Bean on the ultrasound, but it was never truly real until this very second. Why now? Why did he choose now to let me know he’s there? Is it because he knows I said I didn’t want him?
A wave of guilt washes through me. Could I do this? Could I be a mom? It was never part of the plan.
Then, as quickly as it started, the flutters cease. I lay perfectly still for a long time, willing them to come back. Is he okay? Is something wrong because he stopped moving?
A knock on the door startles me, and I jump up to answer it.
I look through the peephole to see the top of Griffin’s dark hair. He’s slumped over, his head is hung low and he’s supporting himself against my door with an outstretched arm. Did she tell him? Or is he just here to go over the list? My heart races thinking of facing him after the bomb Erin dropped on us.
I tentatively open the door and Griffin falls through it like he forgot he was leaning against it. He stumbles into my apartment, catching himself before he hits the floor. He looks up at me and it’s written all over his face. He knows. He’s defeated. Lost. Shattered. He’s also drunk off his ass if his unsteadiness and his smell are any indication.
“Are you drunk?”
“Damn, I hope so,” he slurs. He walks into the kitchen and starts rummaging through my cabinets.
“What the hell are you doing?” I follow him.
“Got any booze?” He opens the cabinet over the fridge and pulls out a bottle of champagne. The bottle Erin brought, but never opened, the second time we took a pregnancy test. I had forgotten it was even there.
I try to grab it from him. “You can’t open that! It was from Erin.”
His eyes go wide as he keeps the bottle from me. Then he turns so his back is to me and proceeds to rip the foil from the cork.
“Stop it, Griffin! Don’t do this.”
He laughs as the cork pops and a bit of liquid spills from the bottle. The laugh is desperate. Full of pain. Broken. “Well, it’s only fitting it was from her. This way we can toast the happy fucking couple. To us.” He tips the bottle at me and then takes a long drink from it.
I watch as he chugs the warm champagne. I worry that he’s drinking too much on top of what he’s already had. That won’t do anyone any good. I rip the bottle from his lips, spilling some onto the floor as it trails out of his mouth.
“What’d you do that for?” he yells, looking at the puddle on the floor below. “You wasted some damn fine champagne. Not a very good way to start this thing.” His cloudy, unfocused eyes find mine. “You always gonna tell me what to do? Already acting like my ball and fucking chain, aren’t ya?”
“Griffin, stop!” I yell over his voice. “This isn’t any way to deal with it. You’re making it worse.”
“Ha!” He all but falls over, slipping in the spilled liquid, but catching himself on the countertop. “Worse? How can I make this any fucking worse? My wife is dying. Dying! And she wants me to fuck her best friend. That’s one hell of a parting gift, don’t you think? How about you? How does it make you feel being my goddamn consolation prize?”
Tears collect in my eyes. I try not to let his words get to me. He’s drunk. He’s hurting. He’s devastated. He’s trying to cope with the unrealistic demands his sick wife is making. I can’t fault him for getting drunk. I’d be right there with him if I could.
He tries to grab the bottle from me but I won’t let it go. We struggle for a second and then his hand slips and the bottle falls, crashing into the sink, shattering into many broken pieces. We both stare at it. Then I feel a sting and look down to see that my hand got sliced from the bottle. “Fuck!” I scream out in anger. In hurt. In sheer heartache for our situation.
“Goddammit, Sky, don’t say fuck!”
I spin around and reach for a towel, but slip on the champagne. Griffin catches me and pulls me into his arms. Before I even realize what’s happening, his lips are on mine. He kisses me with such desperation, like a man who will never kiss a woman again. And for one small second, I let him. For one small second, I want to forget everyone and everything. I want to forget about dying and bucket lists and final wishes. Forget motherless babies, widowed fathers, and grieving friends. For one second I let myself live the fantasy of Griffin’s lips on my body.
But when the second is over and I fully comprehend what’s happening, I pull away. Then I slap him. Hard. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m doing what she wants!” he yells.
I grab a paper towel and hold it to the small cut on my hand. I throw a few more down on the puddle, so we won’t slip on it again. Then I go into the living room. Away from him. I sink into the couch and pull my legs up to protect me. I watch him follow me. I see the moment he realizes what he’s done as horror washes over his face and he closes his eyes. He sits on the chair opposite me. His body language says everything. His head falls forward and his arms rest on his knees. He shakes his head back and forth. “Jesus, Skylar. What the hell did I do?”
“I won’t disrespect her like that,” I say. “Even if she thinks this is what she wants. I would never do that to her.”
He leaps off the couch and runs into my bathroom. I don’t have to ask why. I take the opportunity to clean up my wound and the kitchen floor. I carefully throw the shards of glass into the trash and then I put on a large pot of coffee.
When I emerge from the kitchen, I find Griffin passed out on my couch. Good, he should sleep it off. We have a lot of planning to do. The rest can wait. I make a few phone calls while he sleeps.
Two hours later, when Griffin comes to, my apartment has been populated with friends and family. Mason, Baylor, Mindy, Jenna and a few of Erin’s sisters are here.
Griffin looks around at everyone. His guilt-ridden gray eyes fall on mine and I see the regret. He stares at me until I give him a smile and a nod, letting him know I understand. That I forgive him. That everything will be okay. Well, almost everything.
“Who’s with her?” he asks.
“Our parents are there,” Jane says. “She’s going to be released in a couple of hours, so if you want to be there to take her home, we’d better get started.” She gives him a look of disapproval.
I had briefly explained that Griffin showed up drunk. I left out everything else that happened. I’m not sure how much everyone knows. I’m one-hundred-percent sure, however, that Baylor knows everything. The way she’s looking at me, at Griffin. It’s as if she knows we’ve been put in this impossible situation. Makes sense. I did text her to go sit with Erin until Griffin got back. Good. I’m glad she knows. This way I don’t have to explain it to her. She can help me talk sense into Erin.
But that will have to wait. We have other things to deal with right now.
Griffin and Erin’s family help add a few more things to our list and by the time we disband, we have several balls rolling in all kinds of different directions. The first of which will be Erin being whisked away from the hospital not to their townhouse, but to a pricy and pretentious hotel by way of limo. Waiting for her in the penthouse suite will be a spread of some of the finest, most exotic foods Jorge could whip up with an extra team of chefs we brought in at the last minute. Frogs legs, caviar, Ethiopian cuisine, black truffles, Peking duck. She will drink milk straight from a coconut and eat fresh oysters on the half-shell. It’s a spread fit for a queen. Or a last meal. Take your pick.
If she likes that, I can’t wait to see what her reaction will be to tomorrow’s planned agenda.
~ ~ ~
Baylor hangs around after everyone else leaves. I wondered if Griffin would stay, too. But since my sister appears to be staking her claim on me, he and I will have to discuss our predicament some other time.
Sitting on the couch with Baylor, my eyes focus on her very pregnant belly. She’s due any day now. As far as I’m concerned, the sooner the better. That way Erin won’t miss the birth. “I felt the bean move earlier.”
Her eyes light up and her face sports a knowing smile. “That’s wonderful. Isn’t it the most incredible feeling in the world?”
I suppose you could look at it that way. I simply saw it as a reminder of a huge problem that has to be dealt with. A guilt kick from a child trying to assert himself into the world without being forgotten.
“Don’t you think it’s kind of coincidental that the baby kicked today of all days?” she asks. “On the day that you officially become its mother?”
“What?” I snap my eyes to hers. “No. Are you crazy?” I shake my head vehemently.
“Are we going to talk about this rationally, Skylar?”
“I am being rational. I’m not cut out to be a mom. Erin is delusional.” I lean my head back against the couch cushion and sigh. “She orchestrated this whole thing. Did she tell you that, too? Did she tell you that she made me fall for him? That she set us up and put us in situations where we’d be thrown together? That she deliberately fed my inappropriate fantasies? Hell, maybe my feelings aren’t even my own. Maybe they are just manifestations of what she wanted me to feel.”
Baylor eyes me skeptically. “Do you mean to tell me that now the door is open, you don’t love him anymore?”
I silently pick at an invisible spot on my jeans.
“I didn’t think so,” she says. “So, what’s the problem? It’s the ideal solution, isn’t it? It may be a bit unconventional, but you are Bean’s parents after all. It makes sense. Plus, you already love Griffin. And he likes you a lot. Erin told me they talk about you all the time and that Griffin seems to be enamored.”
“I’m sure she brainwashed him, too,” I spit out.
“You can lead a horse to water, Skylar.” She raises an eyebrow.
“Would you quit with all the idioms, Baylor? I don’t need that shit right now. How can you be on her side? This is ludicrous. Would you be able to give Gavin away to Jenna if you were dying? Could you even think about him touching another woman?” I shake my head. “He kissed me today. Fucking kissed me. Do you think I should run back to Erin and tell her how wonderful that is? Maybe he should just fuck me now to give her a nice going away present. Maybe we could videotape it for her enjoyment. Is that what you think we should do? Is it?”
“No. Of course not.” She lays a hand on my arm. “Calm down.”
I take a few deep breaths while she goes to the kitchen and comes back with a bottle of water for me. She hands it over to me saying, “To answer your question—yes.”
I look at her in confusion.
“I spent a lot of time this afternoon trying to put myself in Erin’s position. I thought about what would happen to my husband. To Maddox. To our baby if I only had a few months to live. And the answer is an emphatic yes. I would absolutely want someone I love and trust to take care of my family.” She gives me a look of compassion, the look only a big sister can share with a little sister. The look that tells me I’m not alone in this. “Let this sink in. Give yourself a chance to accept it. It seems as if Griffin is on board, although I have to say I don’t agree with him kissing you.”
“Me either. I know he did it because he was drunk. And angry. And confused over the whole situation.”
“And that’s understandable,” she adds. “But you need to show Erin the respect she deserves. You need to let this play out separate from her, when she’s not watching. After she’s gone even.”
“Play out? I still think you’re all crazy. How can we be together? Even if I do love him, and I’m not even sure I do anymore, he hates me half the time. Heck, sometimes I think I even hate him. We seem to fight constantly when we’re together.”
“Hate isn’t the opposite of love, Skylar, it’s just its twisted cousin.” I eye her speculatively, thinking of something similar that Erin said earlier today.
“You can do this, little sister. You owe it to Bean to at least try. You owe it to Erin. But most of all, you owe it to yourself.” She gives me her best big sister smile. “It wasn’t so long ago when I remember you telling us that you wanted to do something meaningful with your life. That’s what got you here today. What could be more meaningful than fulfilling a dying woman’s last wish? What could give your life more purpose than allowing this little baby to grow up with both his parents? You said it yourself, Skylar. You wanted to change in a fundamental way. This is your chance. This is the ultimate test. This will define who you are and direct the course of your life. But, most importantly, I want you to think about this—if you walk away, will you be able to live with yourself?”
Her words are profound. They swirl around in my head like a damn tornado eating up everything in its path. I never looked at it that way. I’ve been consumed by thoughts about how I can’t do it, how I’m not cut out for it, how I’m being forced into it. But I never for one second stopped to think how I would feel down the road if I walked away. Walked away from my best friend. Walked away from this baby. Our baby. My baby.
I put a hand on my stomach and for the very first time, I allow myself to feel. I allow myself to feel the connection to the life growing inside of me. And as if responding to a question I’d sent up to heaven, my tummy flutters as the little bean answers back.