I return the smile, but it slides when Gray says, “Slight change of plans, Dad. I’ve had to fit in an important appointment that’s due to start in half an hour, so I won’t be able to go to lunch today. I thought perhaps Lexi and I could just hang out in my office and get to know each other. Some alone girl time.”
My eyes stay keenly on Brian and there’s no hiding the disappointment on his face. I’m disappointed as well, not to mention apprehensive, as Gray’s just made it clear to her father that she doesn’t intend to spend time with a casual lunch and isn’t willing to give more than half an hour to get to know the sister she never knew she had. The fact that Brian is being pointedly excluded leaves me feeling bare and vulnerable. While we don’t have the DNA results back yet, Brian’s made it perfectly clear to me over the past two days through phone calls and one very lovely dinner together that he believes me to be his daughter.
I watch as Brian immediately gives an acquiescent nod to Gray and leans forward to kiss her on her cheek. “Okay, looks like this old man is on his own for lunch today.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Gray says as she pushes past him to head to her office, not offering me a backward glance. It’s rude and Gray knows it, and as I watch Brian’s eyes narrow after his daughter, I see that he knows it too.
Still, I’m surprised when he says to Gray’s retreating form, “Makes me happy to see you two together.”
My body actually jerks at his proclamation, as we’d sort of decided we would not make an announcement to anyone until the DNA results were in, and here Brian Brannon is announcing it to the world. Well, really just to the receptionist, who sits just ten feet away and is now trying to look extremely busy as she peers at her computer screen with laserlike focus. But it’s a bold statement by a man who is not happy with his oldest daughter’s behavior right now. While he didn’t come out and call me his daughter, there’s enough inference there that should have the receptionist wondering what the hell this is all about.
Gray doesn’t even falter in her step, nor does she look back, but merely says, “Well, come on, Lexi. We don’t have much time and we have a ton to talk about.”
Brian hands me my purse, and with his other hand reaches out and squeezes me on the shoulder, and murmurs, “Good luck.”
I don’t say anything, but I reach my left hand across my chest, lay it on top of his hand, and give him a return squeeze.
“I’ll check in with you later,” Brian tells me, and his voice sounds very dadlike. Well, what I would imagine a dad voice would sound like. I wouldn’t know since I never had a father figure in my life. My mother just never found the one, although she had dated some very nice men throughout the years. Regardless, this is very new to me.
“Okay,” I murmur as I release his hand and pull away from him, following Gray to her office like I’m on a death march.
My sister’s office sits at the end of the hall that extends from the lobby. It’s not posh and opulent the way Brian’s is, but rather cluttered with books, binders, and loose papers all over the place. It’s large and expansive, but it seems like every piece of furniture holds stacks of stuff, giving it a slightly cramped feeling. About the only nod to the fact that Gray is something other than a high-powered general manager of a professional hockey team is that the credenza and hutch behind her desk has framed photos of her family. A brief glance and I see a photo of her husband, retired goalie Ryker Evans, as he hoists the Stanley Cup above his head. There’s another photo of just her and Ryker together, him standing behind her with his arms wrapped tightly around his wife, and both of them beaming at the camera. Finally, I see a larger picture of Gray and two little girls, and I have to assume they’re Ruby and Violet, Ryker’s daughters from a prior marriage. Brian filled me in on his newly acquired granddaughters and talked about them as if they were meant to be his all along.
“You can just clear one of those chairs off,” Gray says briskly as she sits behind her desk, which I take to mean she sees this as a business meeting first and foremost.
Just before I turn to the nearest chair, I see a small black-and-white picture, maybe four by four inches, unframed and propped up against a row of binders on the hutch. I can’t help the slight smile that comes to my face as I realize it’s an ultrasound picture, presumably of Gray’s baby she’s carrying.
I nod toward the picture, which I figure is an early one, since it looks like nothing more than a blob. “When was the ultrasound done?”
For the first time, Gray’s face softens while in my presence and she turns to look back at the picture. “Just a few days ago.”
“And how far along are you now?” I ask, although I know the answer to this based on my conversations with Brian. He’s only far too happy to talk about Gray and her first child.