Harlow
I had been forced to shove Grant out the door this morning. He had been pacing and talking on the phone with a contractor. It had been forever since he’d worked, and he was spending a great deal of the time on the phone. The frustration etched on his forehead was hard to miss. Lila Kate was still sleeping a good portion of the day, and I rested when she did. When she was awake, we normally lay on my bed and talked and played. It wasn’t difficult.
It was time for lunch, and she was getting fussy, so I brought her downstairs and laid her in the bassinet while I fixed her bottle. The doorbell rang just when I had her bottle warm enough. I pulled it out of the hot water and dried it off, then headed for the door.
A man I had never met before stood on the other side, but I didn’t have to know him to figure out who it was. The similarities were too strong—his face was an older version of Grant’s. This was his father. The man we never talked about.
Whenever I tried to mention him, the hurt look in Grant’s eyes made me back off. I knew he had no idea where his mother was, and he said that when she called him, he’d let her know about the baby. I had gone through seven months of pregnancy, and two weeks had passed since Lila Kate’s birth, and she still hadn’t called to check in.
“Hello,” I said, breaking the silence.
He smiled, and I could see he was nervous. Even his smile was like Grant’s. “I’m, uh, I’m Brett Carter. Grant’s dad.”
I nodded. “I gathered that. The resemblance is uncanny,” I said.
Brett chuckled. “No nonsense. Figured you’d be the type who won Grant over. He’s had enough fake and flighty in his life.”
I nodded, because I felt like he fell under the latter category. Or maybe he was just cold and insensitive. Grant had always wanted a relationship with this man—a real relationship—but he’d never gotten it.
“I just left the job site. He told me about the baby. Congratulations.”
As if she knew we were discussing her, Lila Kate cried out, reminding me that she was hungry. “Thank you. It’s lunchtime, and Lila Kate is hungry. You’re welcome to come in and meet your granddaughter if you like.”
I didn’t wait for him to give me an excuse. I turned and left him standing there with the door wide open and went to get my fussing baby girl. She saw me holding the bottle and started kicking and fussing louder. She was ready for some food. I scooped her up and turned around to see that Brett had indeed followed me inside. He was staring at Lila Kate with concern.
“She’s awfully small,” he said.
“She was eight weeks early,” I replied, cuddling her against me and giving her the bottle, which she greedily suckled. She closed her little eyes as if it was the best thing in the world. I knew for a fact that it was gross.
“Grant didn’t tell me that. Did she have to stay in the hospital long?” he asked.
Was this guy for real? He didn’t know anything? “Yes, she had to stay a little more than a week. So did I,” I replied, then nodded toward the living room. “I need to sit down so she can be comfortable. We can take this in there.”
He stepped back and let me pass.
I didn’t check to see if he was following me. I headed for my large, comfy chair so I could cross my legs in front of me and let her lie in my lap while I fed her. She liked this position best, too.
I could see him taking a seat on the sofa across from us, and I waited until she was happily suckling again before I looked up at him.
“So you made it through OK, then,” he said. I wanted to laugh. Where was he when his son was at the hospital thinking he was about to raise his daughter all by himself?
“Not exactly. I lost a lot of blood and blacked out, and then they had to put me under for emergency surgery. My heart stopped, but I was determined to live. A couple of days later, I woke up for good to a healthy baby girl and her terrified father.”
Brett’s eyes grew wide, and I could tell he hadn’t been aware that things had been so bad. “I didn’t realize. Grant left a message for me saying he was at the hospital with you and that you’d had the baby. He had told me to call him. I was busy, and I figured you two wanted time to spend with the baby and had enough visitors as it was, so I went to see him at the job site today. He wasn’t very informative. He barely looked at me.” He let out a sigh. “I guess I can understand why now. I just . . . when he said to call him, I didn’t think I had to right then. I figured it was about work, and I knew I would need to pick up his slack while he was with you and the baby.”
That was no excuse. His son had said he was at the hospital and his child had been born and asked his father to call him. He should have called. His job wasn’t more important than his son. And he had a pretty damn fantastic son. “Grant’s a wonderful man. A great man. The kind of man anyone would be proud to call theirs. I’ll be proud to call him my husband, and I know Lila Kate already adores him. She follows the sound of his voice when he’s in a room. She’ll never have a moment in her life when she won’t be proud of her father. Men don’t get any better than Grant. He’s the best. And I recognize that. I cherish it and honor it.
“But you don’t realize the gift you have. He wants a real relationship with you. I can see the hurt in his eyes when your name comes up. My crazy, wild, rock-star father was there at the hospital with us. He isn’t perfect, but he cared. He was there. He had to deal with fans and media while he was there, but he was there. You couldn’t even call your son back and ask if he was OK. If his baby was OK. I don’t understand you, Mr. Carter.”
I decided to stop. I could scold this man and tell him how awful he was all day long, but I had said all that needed to be said.
Brett Carter stood up and stuck his hands into his pockets. He was leaving. Well, good riddance. He hadn’t even stuck around to hold his granddaughter. I wondered if she would ever know this man. Or would her only grandparent be the one and only Kiro Manning?
“You’re right. About all of it,” he said as he started for the door. He stopped just outside the arched doorway. “I’m glad he found you. You’re worthy of him. He’s a lucky man.”
Then he left.
Nan
I held the invitation in my hand as I stood at the edge of the water and let the waves crash and wash over my feet. If I stood here long enough, my feet would sink in the sand to my ankles. It was an odd habit, but I did this almost every day, except in the winter when the water was just too cold.
Today I had come out here to think. I’d expected the invitation to arrive. It was happening. That much I had known even before I heard that Grant had knocked up Harlow. But seeing it was different. It was more final.
Once I had thought that Grant Carter was the one man who would see me. The me underneath. The me I was scared to show the world. The me who had been so emotionally bruised because I’d worn my heart on my sleeve as a kid. When I got older, I put that me on lockdown so tightly it made it impossible for people to hurt me.
But it made it easy for them to hate me.
There were very few people who didn’t just use me. My brother was Rush Finlay, son of the famous drummer Dean Finlay. For years, my so-called friends just wanted to get near my brother. They wanted an in. And I let them have it, because watching him screw them and throw them away was what they deserved. It was my way of taking revenge.
Then I had found out Rush wasn’t the only one with a celebrity father. Kiro Manning had been my dad all along. Yet he had never claimed me or tried to have any relationship with me. That had almost cracked me and the steel walls around my heart. His refusal to acknowledge me had almost made me completely lose my mind. Rush had been there, though, and he’d loved me. He had always been the one to love me. When no one else did, my big brother accepted me no matter how awful I acted. He didn’t approve, but he saw the me underneath.
Then Blaire had taken him from me. She’d won his heart and given him a son, and now he had little room for his messed-up sister. I hated Blaire for that. I hated that she took him away. I wanted to hate their kid, too, but damned if Nate wasn’t the cutest kid in the world. I couldn’t hate him. It was impossible.
Grant Carter had stepped in and been there when I needed someone to care. Rush was busy with his new family, and Grant had taken over his role with a different twist. Grant wasn’t my brother, and he was gorgeous. So we started screwing around, too—a friends-with-benefits thing. He didn’t expect me to be nice, and I didn’t expect him to just fuck me. He was so sweet at times, and he made things better when no one else could. Or even wanted to. He knew how to make me laugh.
But just like any good thing that comes my way, I pushed him away because I had let him get too close. I refused to accept that maybe he could love me. I was terrified to open myself up to rejection yet again.
While I was pushing Grant away, his head was turned by the complete opposite of me. A girl who had the love of her father. She was quiet and unassuming. She wasn’t mean to anyone. Ever. She was matter-of-fact but soft-spoken. She was the perfect person for Grant. I was not. I was the fucked-up brat who didn’t feel secure enough to let herself get close to someone.
Grant fell in love with that girl, and it happened right under my nose. While I was screaming and cursing, she was quiet and calm. It would have taken an idiot not to choose her. She was the easy one to love. I was impossible.
I looked down at the invitation again. Harlow Manning had never done anything to me other than have the love of a father we shared. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t beg for it or demand it—she just had it. I could blame her, but it would be pointless. From what I had seen, her life hadn’t been peaches just because Kiro Manning loved her. He still sucked balls at being a father. But then, having a rock star for a parent was never a positive thing.
I had been unfair to her . . . no, I had been cruel to her. But I had paid my dues. I made up for my wrongs with her. Now I could walk away and let Grant and Harlow Carter live their happily ever after. They had a baby girl and a house with a white picket fence. That was what they both deserved.
I didn’t deserve shit. I was alone in this world, and it was all my fault. I didn’t see that ever changing, because I would have to let the me I once was free, and I couldn’t do that again. Any more rejection, and I wasn’t sure I’d make it. Finding a reason to live was becoming more and more difficult.
This was my life. And I’d created it.