Griff chuckled. “Yeah, you and your sister, both.”
My tummy fluttered that he’d remembered our conversation when I’d told him of my strong dislike of working through steps to get things done.
As I watched the two of them begin to get to know each other, I couldn’t help think what a strange world this was, bringing three people together like us.
Three people who truly needed what the others had to give – friendship and acceptance.
* * *
Griff dropped my car keys onto the kitchen counter and reached for my hand as I walked past him. Pulling me back to him, he said, “I like your sister.”
We’d just dropped her at her house after dinner. She had planned on calling her boyfriend to come get her, but Griff had insisted on driving her in my car. I was pretty sure that made her feel special, and I loved that he’d given her that.
“I can tell that she likes you, too.”
“How?”
“You’re clueless on teens, aren’t you?”
“Can’t say I spend any time with them, sweetheart.”
I laughed. “She spent the night talking to you, and asking you about yourself, and the conversation never felt stilted after the initial meeting. That’s a sure sign a teen likes you.”
He gave me the tiniest smile. If I’d blinked, I would have missed it. I felt for sure he was about to say something, but he didn’t.
Frowning, I said, “What were you just about to say just now? It was like a thought ran through your mind and you let it go straight away.”
He stared at me in silence until his chest rose and fell quite hard. Blowing out a long breath, he let me go, and ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes revealed a hurt or a pain that hadn’t been there earlier, and I hated that I’d brought that on, but maybe he needed to talk about it.
“Griff?” I pushed him.
“This time four years ago, I thought I was gonna be a father…” his voice drifted off.
The pain was clear in his voice now. “What happened?” I asked softly.
“Turned out it wasn’t mine after all. I was the fool who stuck around to see if it was mine, even after the bitch told me it probably wasn’t.” Hatred sliced through the pain in his voice as he spat his words out.
“Was this a woman you were dating?”
“We’d been together for two years. I thought it was more than just dating…I mean, fuck, when you share a house together, furniture together and a fucking bank account together, tell me you’d classify that as more than just dating.” He stopped talking and waited for me to give him my thoughts.
I nodded. “Yes, I would classify that as a relationship which is a lot more than just dating.”
“Thank you. So, one day, I see her out to lunch with this other guy…kissing and flirting, and when I confront her, she admits that she’s been seeing him, too, for over a year. A fucking year.” He paused, gathered himself and then continued. “Hedging her fucking bets, she told me. Said she’d been burnt before and wanted to make sure she chose the right guy this time, so she dated both of us.”
My anger rose. I could hardly believe women like this existed. “Wait…was she living with him, too? And had a bank account with him, too?”
He shook his head. “No, I was the only motherfucking idiot who gave her that.”
He’s still mad, and not just at the woman.
He’s so mad at himself.
“So, did you kick her out when you discovered all this?” I wasn’t sure where the baby was going to fit into all this.
“No, before I had the chance to do that, she left and took all my stuff with her. I came home after work one Friday and the house was empty. Cleared out our joint bank account, too.”
Oh. My. Goodness.
“People actually do that?” The words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them. Of course people did that…he’d just told me they did. But, damn, I struggled to comprehend how anyone could do that to another human being.
“Yeah, Sophia, people do that shit.” His voice was hard and so full of hurt.
“Where does the baby fit in?”
He nodded, eyes glazed over, as if he was remembering his devastation. “I tracked her down the next day and she told me she’d chosen the other guy and was having a baby with him. I asked her how she knew it was his and not mine. She said she wasn’t one hundred percent but believed it to be his. She refused to take a paternity test, and being the dickhead I was, I stuck around that shithole town until she gave birth and I could see for myself whose child it was.”
My heart cracked a little for him. And for his loss – not only of the child, but also the loss of his belief in love thanks to that woman. I could wring her neck for what she had done to this man.
Staring at me, he said, “Clearly the child wasn’t mine, and here I am four years later, childless and still pissed off.” He shoved his fingers through his hair again. “Fuck!”