“Good night.”
Call Ended flashed across the screen as tears slid down Eliza’s cheeks.
Gathering a breath, she quickly rubbed away any sign of sadness as she accepted the incoming video call from her son.
“Hey, Bug.”
At the cheerful lilt in her voice, no one would ever know that her heart was slowly crumbling.
Chapter 29
From his position at the dining room table, Grant shifted his gaze from the art camp registration form to the small balcony beyond the sliding glass door.
Ben perched on a barstool, adjusting his brand-new glasses while he studied the sheet of watercolor paper clipped to the tall easel. Ben had picked out the lime-green frames all by himself and seemed to love them so far. Minus the slight discomfort that stemmed from having a foreign object attached to your face at all times. But he would get used to it eventually.
After dipping his paintbrush into the palette, Ben dabbed it against the canvas, mimicking the bright petals of the potted bougainvillea Grant had purchased last summer at his mother’s insistence.
It wasn’t lost on Grant that Ben had chosen to paint the only plant he owned, rather than the flashy, modern apartment building across the street or the towering high-rises in the distance. It also hadn’t slipped past Grant that the vibrant petals happened to be Eliza’s favorite color.
The sliding door remained open, the frenetic sounds of the city emanating beneath them—car horns, dogs barking, and the occasional shouting match on the street corner.
Grant never minded the cacophony before. But after the peacefulness of Poppy Creek, each siren wail seemed louder somehow. Almost intrusive.
At first, he’d wondered if the plethora of unfamiliar noises would make it difficult for Ben to sleep in his new surroundings. But Ben had quickly developed a habit of calling Eliza after Grant tucked him into bed. Several minutes later, Grant would tiptoe into his room and find Ben sound asleep, the phone limp in his tiny hand.
Grant would carefully slide the phone from his grasp and spend the next half hour filling Eliza in on the details of their day. He’d grown to cherish these moments, eagerly awaiting the pleasant lilt of her voice. Her vivacious laugh. The way she’d sigh deeply whenever he’d share one of Ben’s adorable mannerisms or silly expressions.
Sometimes, he’d imagine what it would be like if they were raising Ben together… cuddled up on the couch, munching on warm fresh-from-the-oven snickerdoodles while Ben and some pudgy, floppy-eared pup wrestled on the carpet. He’d have his arm draped around her shoulders, while she nuzzled against him, teasing him for getting crumbs in her hair. They’d share a laugh. And he’d kiss her softly… just because.
Getting lost in the daydream again, Grant shook his head sharply, steering his attention back to the registration form. Pushing all thoughts of Eliza from his mind, he focused on the next question.
Child’s full name.
Grant filled in the spaces for Ben’s first and last name before shouting, “Hey, what’s your middle name?”
He poised the ballpoint pen over the empty box, waiting for Ben’s response.
“Thomas!”
The pen clattered to the tabletop.
“Thomas?” Grant repeated, though not loud enough for Ben to hear him over the wail of a passing ambulance.
Shock pinned Grant to his seat.
Eliza had given Benhismiddle name.
But why? What did it mean? It was as if she’d intentionally kept a link between them.
Grant stood, pacing the floor as he tried to untangle his conflicting emotions.
Over the last few days, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. And each time her face materialized in his mind’s eye his heart physically ached to hold her.
They belonged together. All three of them.
And he’d never been more confident of that truth until this precise moment.
A knock at the door yanked Grant from his thoughts. It couldn’t be her… could it?
