“Twenty weeks,” she says as she turns back to me, and the softness is gone. So is the hardness, but her gaze is determined as she nods toward the chair again and takes hers behind the desk.
I turn quickly as I let my purse slide from my shoulder to the ground. Pulling a stack of four books off a chair, I bend to set them on the floor before I sit down. Just as my butt hits the cushion, I try to keep the personal conversation alive as I meet her gaze again. “Do you know what you’re having?”
I also know the answer to this, but I’m struggling to make a connection.
“We’re going to keep it a surprise,” Gray says matter-of-factly, and in a way that lets me know she’s done talking about her pregnancy.
Still, I try one more time. “Guess you’ve got a lot of gender-neutral baby clothes at this point, huh?”
“Mmmmm,” is how she acknowledges that, and then she makes it absolutely clear that the warm and fuzzy conversation is over when she says, “I’m curious as to why you lied about Roman Sykora helping you with a contact.”
I wince slightly, and that’s just fucking great. I’m really starting this relationship off with a bang. “I’m sorry. I knew he was late to practice and I just sort of blurted it out before I thought. He was just being nice and making conversation. That’s all.”
Gray studies me a moment, and I can see when she decides to let that go, because her gaze becomes more focused.
More intense.
“I’m not ready to accept who you say you are,” she says briskly. Almost formally.
“I understand” is all I can say to that. Because I totally understand where she’s coming from.
“Assuming that the paternity test that you and my dad have taken,” she says with pointed emphasis on the word my, “what are your intentions?”
“Intentions?” I ask, confused.
“What do you want from us?” Gray says as she crosses her forearms and leans them on her desk. She doesn’t sound skeptical but merely resigned, as if she’s trying to head off an extortion attempt or something.
“I don’t want anything,” I tell her honestly. “Well, except to get to know you and Brian.”
She arches an eyebrow at me. “You don’t want anything? Not a job here with the organization? Or with one of the other Brannon companies? You don’t want a part of your legacy if you are who you say you are?”
I really wanted to play nice with Gray, but I need to nip her slanderous thoughts toward me in the bud. “Why don’t you just say what you really are trying to say, Gray? You want to know if I want money, right?”
“Well, do you?” she asks.
I stand up from my chair, grabbing my purse as I do so and sliding the strap over my shoulder. “The only thing I want is to get to know you and our father. If that’s not something you’re interested in, I completely understand. But I’m not going to sit around and listen to you interrogate me, because let’s be honest…if I had nefarious motives, I’d never admit them to you.”
Gray’s eyebrows rise in surprise, but she doesn’t say a word.
So I give her a smile and say, “It was really nice meeting you, Gray.”
I move past the chair I had been sitting in and start to walk toward the door, but before I take three steps, Gray huffs out an exasperated, “Wait a minute, Lexi.”
Turning slowly, I find her watching me with a guarded expression, but her face has softened. I don’t say a word, because I’ve said all I need to.
Gray extends a hand back to the chair and her voice is almost pleading when she says, “Please don’t go.”
I immediately walk back to the chair, drop my purse once again, and sit down. “I swear, Gray, I only want to get to know my new family.”
She studies me critically for a moment, and then her shoulders drop in such a way that I hadn’t realized how stiff they’d been prior. Her gaze falls down to her hands, now clasped on the desk, and she says softly, “I’m sorry. I’m not dealing with this very well.”
“I really do understand that,” I reassure her. “I can’t imagine how shocking this has all been. And you don’t know me. Hell, you really don’t even know for sure I am who I say I am. I mean, none of us will know for sure until the test comes back.”
“My father is convinced,” she says as she looks up at me. “He’s absolutely convinced that you’re his daughter.”
“I sort of am too,” I tell her bluntly. “My mom wasn’t with anyone else during that time. Only your dad.”
“If she was telling you the truth,” Gray murmurs, not in a rude way, but to merely let me know that it is a possibility.
And I know that means she still has some doubt.
“I choose to believe my mother,” I tell her simply. “If the test proves wrong, then so be it.”
Gray nods, then pushes from the desk to lean back in her chair. She crosses one leg over the other, her baby bump not encumbering her elegant grace in the slightest. With her elbows resting on the arms of the chair and her hands clasped over her belly, she tells me with gentle candor, “I never wanted a sister. Or a brother for that matter. Growing up, that is. It was just me and Dad, and I never felt I was missing out on anything, you know?”