“I’m glad you like it.” Grant hadn’t been worried, confident it was his best work to date.
“Like it? I love it. We’ll need to make a few minor layout changes and update some of the text, but the design is perfect. Well done.”
“Thanks. Once I got the idea, it all came together pretty quickly.”
“I knew you’d pull through. Although…” Landon grinned. “For a couple of days there, I thought you’d gone AWOL.”
“I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been… going through some stuff. But I should have been in more frequent communication.”
“No worries, man.” Landon shrugged, exuding a complete lack of concern. “The job got done. And it turned out even better than I expected. Besides, out of curiosity, I did some googling on your hometown. Seems like a cool place. I can see why you went back. I may even visit one of these days. There’s this café there that looks amazing. They have a whole line of desserts infused with coffee. Right up my alley. Hmm…” Landon tapped his fingers against his desktop. “Now that I think about it… I wonder if they’ll ship to the city? I’d be willing to pay any price.”
“I’ll bring something back for you,” Grant offered, hiding a smile. He’d pushed publish on the website yesterday, as a surprise for Eliza’s grand opening tomorrow night. He hadn’t expected anyone to find it so soon, let alone Landon Morris.
“So, you’re coming back to the city, then?”
“Yeah.” The innocuous one-syllable word lodged in Grant’s throat. He hated to think about leaving. Especially now.
After the men conversed for a few more minutes and exchanged goodbyes, Grant closed his laptop with a somber hand. His entire life existed in San Francisco. But now he had a child who belonged in Poppy Creek.
When he’d woken up that morning, Grant wouldn’t have thought twice about moving back home to be with Eliza and Ben. But after what she’d done, Grant didn’t know how he could look her in the eye again, let alone live in the same town.
Sharp heels clattered against the hardwood floor, growing louder as they neared the office.
“Are you all right? What did she say?” Harriet burst into the room, her eyes wild and frantic.
“I’m fine, Mom.” Grant forced a smile. How could he end this conversation quickly? He really couldn’t handle his mother’s current state of panic. He’d barely come to grips with his own.
“I came as soon as I got your father’s voice mail. What exactly did she say to you?”
Grant’s gaze fell to her hands, which nervously fidgeted with the leather handle of her purse. Drawing his gaze upward, he noticed stray tendrils of her overly processed hair plastered to her damp forehead. “Areyouall right?”
“What did she say?” Harriet hissed, about to come unraveled.
“She said Ben is my son. But I imagine Dad told you that already.”
“Is thatallshe said?”
“I didn’t give her much of an opportunity to say anything else. The whole ‘Ben is your son’ thing came as a shock.” Why did relief flicker across her face? Grant expected her to explode. “You don’t seem particularly surprised.”
“Of course I am!” she snapped before her features softened. “I’m sorry. This is all quite distressing. I suspect you’ll be heading home now.”
“I haven’t decided, Mom.” Grant twisted the laptop cord around his finger, trying to work out why his mother’s reaction bothered him so much. She had a grandson. Why didn’t she seem to care? “I’m not sure what the future holds for me, except that I have a son. And from now on, he comes first.”
Harriet blanched, her mouth coming unhinged. “You can’t seriously mean…” Her eyes widened as Grant stood, collecting his things. “You’re actually thinking of staying, aren’t you?”
“Possibly.”
“But what about your career? You’ve worked so hard to—”
“I can build websites from anywhere.”
“What about networking? Client lunches and wooing new accounts?” Looking visibly ill, Harriet clutched the opal pendant at her throat. “You know it takes more than good work to get ahead in this world. It takes sacrifices. Like—”
“Your family?” Grant stared at his mother with startling clarity, harsh reality gripping his heart with cold, cruel hands. All this time, he’d resented his father’s blind ambition to climb the ladder of success no matter the cost, never once realizing he had someone dragging him up the rungs by his collar. Why hadn’t he seen it sooner?
Harriet didn’t respond, but her pale, impassive expression said it all.
Before today, the realization would have solidified Grant’s fear of parenthood, reaffirming he was damaged goods and had no business being a father.
