Chapter Fourteen
Grant had never seen so many recognizable faces at the annual press club dinner, which took place a few days after he’d arrived back in DC, in a swanky hotel downtown. He’d spent the last few days in meetings and being briefed for his new assignment.
The event was the Academy Awards of the press world, and he was being honored with an award for his work in Kenya, the reason he was here just a few hours before his flight left for overseas.
But as the dinner was served and the speeches went on and on, Grant realized one thing. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the award. He kept looking around for…something. Once he saw a woman with long, dark hair wearing hoop earrings toss her head and turn around…and he thought it was her. Out of the corner of his eye, he believed he’d seen her several times, even though the very thought that she would be here was insane.
He wanted Liz to be sitting right at his side. To share his award. To meet his colleagues. To laugh at absurd people. To share in his world. He’d made that impossible by letting her believe everything between them came down to nothing but a sperm sample. Not long ago, he might’ve been able to accept that. But she’d changed the way he thought about…everything.
Now he felt like shit. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Kept seeing her stricken face after he told her he couldn’t afford to be tied down. A loud, booming voice sounded behind him, pulling him from his thoughts and causing him to turn around.
“How are you, son? Congratulations on the award.”
Vance Walker. The best damn professor he’d ever had, and his nemesis. His father’s nemesis. Also the man who once told him he’d never amount to anything.
Vance had been an A-list colleague of his father’s in his own right and at one time they were best friends. But Vance had turned into a harsh critic. The two men had a falling out and never spoke again.
Grant had met him at NYU where he taught for years in the school of journalism. He was the most dynamic and esteemed professor there, and of course Grant had tried to please him but had never been able to. Grant had always felt that Vance took out his frustrations about his father on him.
He was taller than he remembered, befitting of his legendary status in the world of journalism. Still lean and fit. His hair had turned white, though, and he had more wrinkles on his face, which on a man like him served only to make him more powerful and interesting looking.
Vance offered his hand. “Where are you stationed these days? Haven’t seen you on the news recently.”
Grant took his hand, more out of politeness than any true desire to shake it. In his opinion, the man had been too much of a pain in the ass to warrant a genuine handshake.
“I’m shipping out tomorrow to Somalia,” Grant said. “To cover the refugee crisis there.”
“Is that right? Those fools have got you doing that, eh?”
“The news still needs covered, Vance,” Grant said drily. “Regardless of the danger.”
“There’s a difference between covering the news and sending lambs to slaughter,” he said. “You remind me a lot of your father.”
Grant raised his brows. This should be interesting. “How’s that?”
“Bold. Not giving a shit about the danger. It’s what got your parents killed, you know.”
“It’s easy to pick on the dead. They can’t fight back.”
“Hear me out, son.” Vance rested a hand on his shoulder. It was everything Grant could do not to step aside and let the hand fall.
“You’re misunderstanding me,” Vance said.
“I don’t think I misunderstood years ago when you called me a slacker and an underachiever. I’ve spent most of the past ten years of my career trying to prove you wrong.”
“And you’ve achieved the highest rank a television journalist can. Your face is known around the world, and your reputation for excellent journalism precedes you everywhere you go.”
Grant suppressed rolling his eyes. Great to hear, but it all came ten years too late.
“I admit, I had some major disagreements with your father, and maybe I was harder on you because of it. But if I called you a slacker, it was because you were wasting your talents. It was my way of shaking you, waking you up. You were one of the most talented writers I’ve ever seen.”
Grant’s intake of breath was audible. He couldn’t help it. Writer?
“You told me I’d never amount to anything. That I’d never be the great journalist my father was. You told me my papers sucked.”
“That’s because you showed up hungover every Monday and flirted with all the girls instead of paying attention in class.”
“My whole life has been about applying myself, trying to get myself to the same caliber as my father.”
“You’ve surpassed your father, Grant. Just be careful you don’t piss all your hard work away.”
Grant frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Your father was a lot like you—driven. But he wanted one thing. Success. He would’ve done anything to get a Pulitzer, including bring his wife into a war zone for the sake of a story. Except that time he didn’t get out.”
“You’re calling my father foolhardy.”
“I’m saying your father started out wanting to do what was right, but fame and fortune did things to him. At some point, it became about the prizes and the accolades, not the stories. It’s what got him killed. I know what they’re trying to do to you, Grant. Don’t let them offer you up as a human sacrifice for their ratings. There’s bravado and then there’s craziness. Know the difference.”
“Why should I believe you? You weren’t even on speaking terms with my father when he died.”
“I loved your father. Even though we had our disagreements, I don’t believe they would’ve been permanent if he hadn’t died. That’s something I’ll regret for the rest of my life. Maybe that’s why I feel obligated to try and save his only son.”
Grant’s head was spinning. He had a million questions. He didn’t know whether to trust him or not.
Vance finally dropped his hand from his shoulder. “Think about what I said. I’d like to sit down with you some time and have a real discussion about your dad, share some photos. When you’re ready.”
Ready? His whole life he’d been begging to know more about his father.
“He’d be proud of you. We all are. I’m sorry that I misguided you all those years ago. I didn’t want you to waste all your spectacular talent.”
Vance turned away. Grant seemed to have lost the ability to form words. “Hey, Vance,” he said.
Vance swiveled around, one brow lifted.
“I-I’d like that. To come sit and talk with you.”
Vance smiled a wide, white smile. “Then Godspeed,” he said, giving a little salute before he turned back and disappeared into the crowd.
Grant was so lost in thought he was a little startled by another pat on his back. “You ready to board that plane?”
It was Pierce. “Bright and early, boss.”
“You’re a good kid, Wilbanks,” Pierce said, balancing a drink in one hand. “Bet you’re eager to get back to some real reporting, eh? Out of Podunkville for good.” He looked him up and down with a sharp gaze that missed little. “Nervous about shipping out?”
“A little, yeah,” Grant admitted. Immediately he regretted it. Pierce was not one for sympathy and it was always a mistake to admit weakness. Some part of Grant couldn’t stop hoping for the kind of relationship Pierce had with his father—warm, affectionate, mentoring.
He was a sick bastard to see Pierce as a father replacement, and he knew it.
As if to prove it, Pierce laughed.
What the fuck?
“Be safe,” Pierce said, slapping him on the back. “And just remember, if you’re having any reservations, there are ten more young bucks behind you waiting for the opportunity.”
Pierce chuckled again and left in search of other company. But Grant didn’t think his words were funny at all.
…
If Liz could handle med school, she could handle making a fruit salad, regardless of her inadequate kitchen skills. She’d invited her family over to finally see her place and to tell them the good news…and she was still going to follow through with the plan. All the food was bought, and, besides, what else was she going to do if she didn’t have them over besides ugly cry all day?
She was the queen of using busy to shut out her problems. Even though tomorrow and every day after loomed like a big black hole threatening to suck her right through it, she refused to think ahead. She would somehow focus on getting through today.
She needed her family. And it was about time she told them that. Except within the first five minutes, she sliced her finger cutting pineapple and by the time she realized it, she’d bled all over half of it and had to toss most of it out. Then she burned the bottoms of the chocolate chip cookies that she’d baked from scratch because her mind was wandering instead of paying attention to the timer. Wandering to a certain tall, good-looking Brit who’d turned her life upside down in a mere matter of weeks. Already she missed him doing what he always did—making coffee first thing every morning and handing her the first cup, watching him as he sat at the kitchen table, intently scanning all the online news outlets as they ate breakfast together.
Waking up without him was unbearable, not that she’d managed to sleep much anyway. She missed the way he pulled her into his big, warm body every morning and held her, nuzzled her neck, told her good morning, making her laugh with his teasing—well, she felt it all acutely.
Liz couldn’t help wondering that if it weren’t for the pregnancy, would he have tried to work things out? Would he have suggested a long-distance relationship? A child had made his decision all or nothing.
And he’d chosen nothing.
Maybe she’d asked too much of him too quickly. Maybe she’d imagined a side of him that he was capable of becoming that he couldn’t even see himself. She’d done that with Parker, hoped he was more than he was, thought that he could change. That experience alone should have taught her that you can’t change people. They have to change themselves. Especially Grant, who’d been so adamant from the beginning. So determined not to love. Even in her anger and sadness, her heart ached for him.
She should never have let down her guard. She’d vowed never to trust a man again and look what had happened.
A baby. That’s what had happened. She would never, ever regret that. Funny how a few short weeks ago she’d been fine with raising a child on her own. Now the thought broke her heart.
The reality of ruined fruit salad and burned cookies in front of her had Liz rushing to clean up the mess in her kitchen. At least it was impossible to ruin chicken strips marinating in salad dressing. Wasn’t it?
She made sure she watered Dottie’s flowers and the plants that were sprouting up in her garden. New, fragile growth. It had once reminded her of her relationship with Grant. But now it was just sad. He wouldn’t even be here to see the blooms.
Even though she kept having to stop and wipe her leaky eyes, she managed to set the table on the porch and put drinks in a cooler and she even put some fresh flowers she’d bought at the store in a little jar in the middle of her kitchen table.
Her family showed up right at six, her sisters and mom and Jenna walking in first, chatting and laughing like it was any ordinary day. But, oh, it wasn’t. How would she ever be able to pretend to everyone that it was?
“Wow,” Maddie said, looking around at the new furniture. “This is amazing.”
“Adorable, Liz,” Cat said. “Your place is simply adorable.”
“I love it,” Jenna said. “Well done.”
“I always knew you had it in you,” her mother said, lightly fingering the daisies on the table. “It truly looks like a home.”
“It was Grant,” Liz said. Bad mistake. Saying his name made her tear up again, and she bit her bottom lip hard to try and stop. “He made me go shopping. He helped me pick everything out. And he got me to slow down some to enjoy it.”
She tried to use the anger deep within to help her keep it together. He didn’t want me. He didn’t want his own baby. But try as she might, Liz couldn’t paint him as an ogre. He was just…damaged. Too damaged to accept love. And that broke her heart even more.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” her mom asked, coming to her side.
Grief and heartache combined to make Liz feel like crap, causing her to lean on one of her brand-new armchairs.
“Are you okay?” Maddie asked. “You look a little green around the gills.”
“I’m pregnant. But it’s too early to even be sick. I’m just…heartsick.”
Her mom and sisters stared. Jenna gasped. Her mom, always the voice of reason, recovered first. “Why don’t you sit down properly in that chair? Cat, will you bring some water?”
“I’m fine,” Liz said. “Grant left. He’s gone back to Africa. For good.”
“Hey,” Nick said, picking that exact time to walk in the back door carrying a plate covered with little charred, blackened lumps. A heavy burned scent filled the air.
Liz smacked herself in the head. “Oh no. I forgot I put those on the grill.” Big surprise there, judging from the rest of this shit day.
Nick’s mouth turned up in a little smile. “The grill started smoking like crazy and we found this in there. I think it used to be chicken.”
“Liz is pregnant,” Maddie said.
“Oh,” Preston said, choosing that moment to walk in behind Nick. He glanced first at Liz and then at the three women surrounding her, then lifted a hand in surrender. “Okay, um, bad timing. I’ll—I’ll just be out back. With the guys. We’ll take care of the food.”
“No wait,” Liz said. “I want the guys to hear this, too.”
“Hear what?” Derrick asked, coming in through the back door with her dad.
“Liz is pregnant. But Grant left for overseas,” her mom said.
“Are you sure he’s not coming back?” Maddie asked. “The man seemed head over heels for you. It’s hard to believe he’s gone for good.”
“And if he has, he’d better look out,” Derrick said, crossing his arms. “Because there are four big guys right here who don’t take abandonment lightly, especially when there’s a child involved. We will track him down.”
“He got called back on a big assignment,” Liz said. “A dangerous one. I think he felt a tremendous amount of pressure to go.”
Judging by the scowls on their faces, none of the guys looked like they were exactly buying that.
Before Liz could stop herself, the words came tumbling out. “I went through—a procedure—intrauterine insemination—earlier this summer because I learned my endometriosis is getting worse and I was afraid I’d never get a chance to conceive. He agreed to be my sperm donor because I was nervous about using sperm from a stranger, someone I’d never seen before. I wanted someone who wouldn’t want to be involved, and he was the perfect person. I didn’t want to put my fate in the hands of a man again, I wanted to control my own destiny, and I knew he was only here for a short time. But after that, things got complicated and I-I fell in love with him anyway.”
“Wait—you got pregnant with in vitro or something?” Nick asked.
“He gave me some sperm—in a test tube,” she said, trying to ignore the somewhat shocked look on her dad’s face. “But the insemination procedure didn’t work. Then things happened and…somehow I got pregnant the normal way.”
The room was deadly quiet until Cat spoke. “It’s what you always wanted,” she said. “Congratulations.”
Liz shot her sister a grateful look. She’d never loved her sister more.
“A man like Grant might have a difficult time adjusting to the idea of a baby,” her mother said.
“Why? Because he travels the world, he loves danger, he’s famous?” Preston asked.
“No,” her mother said. “Because he’s afraid.”
Her father snorted. “I don’t care if he’s afraid, as long as he does the right thing.”
“Yeah, he needs to man up,” Derrick said.
“As I recall, you might have had the same initial reaction, Henry,” Rosalyn said. “And it might have taken you a little while to do the right thing.”
“Did I miss something here?” Maddie asked.
“Ask Mom later,” Liz whispered. Her parents’ marriage just kept getting more interesting.
“Maybe the thought of a child is overwhelming at first,” Henry said. “But a man’s got to face up to the truth, Rosalyn. If he loves her, he’ll do what’s right.”
“I can’t change Grant’s mind,” Liz said, “but I wanted you all to know what was going on. No matter what, I’m so, so thrilled about the…baby.” Saying that word for the first time did something to her. Made her breath catch. Made her heart turn to melted chocolate on the inside. It sounded so real.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been honest with you. It was just that you were all so…happy. When I found out I might never be able to have a baby, I felt…desperate. But I’m really excited and I hope you all will support me.”
Her father walked over and put an arm around her. “Liz, sweetheart, I’ve always been proud of you. And that doesn’t stop now.”
“Just think, our kids will all grow up together,” Cat said.
“Yep,” said Jenna. “We’ll all be close by.”
“And we can babysit for one another,” Maddie said.
Her big lug of a brother and her brothers-in-law even hugged her.
Her mother stroked her hair, making her feel sort of like she was ten again, but it felt great…to be loved. Somehow, she knew she’d survive this.
“At least we have fruit salad,” Preston said.
“Um, about that.” Liz lifted up her bandaged finger. “I don’t think it’s such a great idea to eat the fruit salad.”
“Well then,” Nick said, holding up his cell. “Pizza or Chinese, people?”
…
Grant was shaking a little as he finally set foot on the ugly gray carpeting at JFK Airport. He’d never been so happy to see American soil after two weeks. Thank Jesus.
Tears sprung to his eyes. He was safe and in one piece, and all he wanted was one thing. To go home to the woman he loved.
If she’d have him.
He’d flown as instructed to Somalia, but what Vance had said about the network sending lambs to slaughter had been right. It was a setup for disaster, a ploy to bring the network ratings with little true news to be reported. So he’d gone against orders, taken his crew to Kenya, back to reporting in one of the refugee camps there. He’d gotten some terrific footage and did numerous interviews exposing government corruption that were sure to cause a political uproar and bring about change, but on the way back they’d been detained crossing the border.
He’d been stuck in a hotel room for a week with no passport and no phone while the officials checked all his film and photos. Destroyed a lot of his footage and equipment.
He got his passport back, but not his phone or his film. But he did have his life, and the life of his crew, for which he was most grateful.
After it was all over, Pierce had been furious and had insisted he report as planned to Somalia. Grant told him to shove it.
All he could think of was what a fool he’d been to think he could walk away from Liz and their child. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about a Pulitzer or losing his life for ratings.
Maybe he had no skills for being a good husband or father, but he was going to fucking learn. She could give him the courage to try. Because it was too late to go back to his old life, his old ways. Liz was already seared on his body and in his soul, and there was no going back. If only she’d forgive him.
As he walked through the airport to catch his final flight, something made him stop in his tracks. The same newsstand shop he’d stopped at months ago. A whole lineup of smiling teddy bears, half pink, half blue, arranged in a pyramidal display, stared at him with big round eyes.
His legs suddenly grew roots as he became fixated on the bears. A memory struck him, from what seemed like so long ago, of the frazzled mother with the baby and the toddler begging for a bear. Those little kids had been an annoyance, an obstacle in his way of making his flight.
Hadn’t they?
He thought differently now.
In his mind’s eye, he envisioned a little girl who might have long, dark hair and big brown eyes with long lashes like her mother. A little girl who wanted a pink bear and who might get a tad bit whiny asking for it. Who might perhaps puff out her lower lip exactly as her mother did when she got stubborn.
Something about that image was so clear, so…real. It stabbed him straight in his gut.
He wouldn’t blame Liz for not wanting him back.
He’d acted like an ass, but not because he hadn’t cared. Because he hadn’t believed in himself.
His entire life was driving onward, to the next village, the next country, the next breaking news. Chasing the story kept his own demons at bay. Well, they’d finally caught up with him. And currently they were biting him in the ass.
He’d gone into war zone after war zone, danger after danger, because he’d felt…expendable. Not worthy of love. Orphaned by his parents, he’d felt perhaps that his mission in life was to be alone, a lone crusader. To continue his father’s legacy.
Avoiding the pain of entanglements had spared him a lot of suffering. And had shown him that in the end, adventure was a shitty substitute for love. Maybe it was time to find his own legacy, follow his own dreams. And he’d learned those dreams were not his father’s.
Because in the end, the danger hadn’t mattered. The story hadn’t mattered. The fact that he’d felt terrified to love hadn’t, either. The one thing that did matter was his regret. He’d never told her he loved her and that he loved their baby. If he’d died without her knowing…well, that would have been the great sin. His lack of courage to try.
Because he did love her, with all his heart. He wanted her, and he wanted their baby. And he’d been such an ass not to see what had been staring him in the face all along.
“Sir, can I help you?” a woman in a pink smock asked. He realized he’d been standing in front of the display, a pink bear in his hand.
He snapped to attention and reached for the display. Grabbed a blue bear from the top of the pyramid. “I’ll take these,” he said, handing them over.
The loudspeaker announced the final boarding call for his flight.
“You can go ahead of me,” a businessman said, recognition in his eyes. “I’m sure you’re off on an important mission.”
“Actually, I am,” Grant said, easing in line behind the suited man. “But I’ve got a minute. Please, after you.”
Yes, he was on an important mission. The most important mission of his life, and he prayed to God he hadn’t already screwed it up.