“That she is.” He sighs heavily. “What’s your take on this baby situation? We won’t turn our backs on our grandchild, and if it’s as messy as you say…”
I roll my lips inward, considering my answer. But my parents and I have always had an honest relationship, and I won’t change that now. “The timing of it feels off,” I admit.
“You think she’s lying about who the baby’s father is?” Mom asks curiously.
I let out a slow breath. “I’m not sure, but something doesn’t add up about it all.”
My mother tuts her tongue in disapproval. “Either way, I will not condone this kind of behavior. From Thatch or Angelica. This is not what our family does.”
“You sure, Louise?” my father asks. “That’s not something we can ever take back.”
“This man, this Christopher… He sounds like a real piece of work. Lynley and those children are better off without him. But I will not sit back and watch as my blood destroys families. Thatcher is thirty-eight years old, and it’s time he acted like it. His daughter got into this mess. He can get her out.”
Chapter 23
Lynley
My heart crawls into my throat as I watch Ginny scale the top of the monkey bars.
“Careful!” I call out as she wobbles upright, trying to use the equipment like a balance beam, her arms straight out on either side of her. “No more broken bones!”
“I think I’ve decided what I want to be when I grow up, Mom!” she yells back, ignoring me completely. “I can be an acrobat!”
Mase scoffs from where he’s sitting at the edge of the playground, throwing his baseball up in the air before catching it in his glove. “No way. You’d break every bone in your body.” He doesn’t look up, his face set in a thunderous scowl, and I sigh.
We’ve been living in the new house for a few weeks now. Grafton held true to his word, helping us go shopping to furnish the place—although we bickered over the price of some items. I was insistent on paying him back once the divorce finally goes through, so I was searching out the cheaper items, trying to stick to a frugal budget. Grafton,however, had followed me around, grabbing anything that caught my eye for longer than three seconds. He didn’t even bother looking at the price.
“It’s your first home, darling,” he told me when I got frustrated with him. “The first one that’s yours alone. You deserve it to be perfect.”
He’d been coming over almost every night, which both the kids loved. He and Mase were bonding over complicated Lego sets, while Ginny convinced Grafton to let her do his hair as they watched a princess movie. He didn’t even hesitate, sitting down in front of the couch while she sat behind him, filling his dark hair with glittery pink bows and rainbow clips.
Mase and Ginny have settled into our new routine, our new normal, with aplomb. I found a child therapist who gave me good suggestions of how to talk through the changes, and what is still to come. And the conversations had gone better than I expected.
Mase saw it all coming, so he didn’t have much to say. But Ginny… She’s been a little harder. She didn’t understand why we couldn’t live with Christopher, and why we never saw him anymore. It took several conversations and lots of tears, as well as reminders that her daddy would always love her. The last week has been easier, especially when she learned that Christopher is taking them this weekend for a night. I’d agreed with reluctance, knowing that I couldn’t interfere with Mase and Ginny’s relationships with him, but also aware that his reasons for taking them aren’t about the kids at all.
I still have him blocked, so he got in contact through my lawyer a few days ago, asking to have them. And I immediately knew his reasons weren’t about our children.
It is his father’s birthday today, which means theDelcourts will be throwing a big society party, same as they do every year. It was expected that Christopher would attend with his family. He’d be able to explain my absence easily enough, but he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of all of us not being there. There’s no way he told his family about the impending divorce. He doesn’t know how to take accountability, and for him to willingly admit that he lost not only his job, but also his wife?
He would never do it. Not unless he’s cornered and has no choice.
“Mom,” Mase says, glancing over at me. “Are you sure I have to go?”
It’s not the first time he’s asked, or even the fifth, and I gave him a soft look. “You know the answer, baby. You’ve got the phone I got you, right? You can call me anytime, day or night.”
“Right,” he mutters, looking away, his face glum—an expression that’s been a constant since I told him about the visit.
“It’s only a night,” I remind him gently.
He grunts before asking, “Is Grafton coming over?”
“I haven’t spoken to him,” I say honestly.
Mase scrunches his lips to the side. “It’s okay if he comes over to keep you company. I might be a little bit sad about it, but I won’t mind too much.”
I furrow my brows. “Why would you be sad?”
He shrugs. “’Cause I’m not there. I won’t tell Ginny, either, because she’d probably be sad too.”
