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“Grammy. That’s my grandmother. She has changed since my grandfather died. She’s mean. Vindictive and has a sexist streak I’d never noticed before. She tracked him down, despite how absent he’s been. She didn’t’ care he didn’t come to the funeral. She didn’t care he hasn’t been home for Christmas. It makes no sense.”
Charlie sat, her tight skirt sliding along her legs as she nestled into my new office furniture. I had gone with touches of white and cream. I loved how strong and feminine it looked. I had the Warriors W embroidered on the pillows. I also had hung the watercolor of Isaac and Dylan over the couch. I loved that we were the only three who knew how to interrupt the tangled three colors.
“I’m not a psychologist, Vanessa. People do some crazy shit in grief. I’ve had clients who were out of their loving minds. I can’t psychoanalyze your grandmother beyond what it looks like.”
“And what do you think it looks like?”
She sighed. “It looks like a woman who lost her son. Lost her husband, and is losing the only life she knew—the Warriors. Your brother seems to embody that life more than you can. And yeah, it’s just because he’s a guy. Probably reminds her of your dad. Maybe it reminds her of both of them.”
“Are you sure you aren’t a psychologist?” I was stunned.
I felt another lurch in my stomach. The stress this situation was causing was making me more nauseated by the second. “Oh God.”
I rushed to the trashcan under my desk and hurled into it.
“Vanessa, are you ok?”
I nodded, kneeling in front of the wastebasket. “I can’t handle all the stress.” I reached for bottle of water on the drink cart Candy kept stocked in my office.
“Or maybe you’re pregnant?” Charlie cocked one eyebrow higher than the other.
“What?”
She shook her head. “You do like things in threes. Why not make me work three projects at once?”
“No. No, no, no.” I couldn’t be.
“Who is the father? Dylan or Isaac?”
“Charlie,” I hissed. But then my eyes landed on the painting. And I knew.
It had only happened once, but that’s all it took. I knew with everything in my being the night we made this baby.
I closed my eyes. “It’s Isaac’s.”
I fumbled for my chair. I chugged the water. I hadn’t had a period, but it didn’t occur to me until now that I should have been watching my calendar. I should have paid attention.
“Should we go into my plan, I guess?” Charlie offered.
I nodded. My hand rested on my stomach. I was pregnant.
Forty-One
Vanessa
I hung up the phone with Steve just before the car pulled to the front of the house. I rushed outside to meet Isaac. Dylan strolled along next to me.
The driver walked around to the back of the stretch limo and opened the door. Isaac put one foot on the driveway and then the other. I had to fight the impulse to help him, but I knew he was stubborn and proud. He wouldn’t want my help.
“Glad you’re home, man.” Dylan grabbed his bag from him.
“Glad to be out of that damn hospital, brother.” Isaac slapped him on the back.
“Can we please go inside so I can kiss you?” I leaned toward his ear to whisper.
“Hell yeah.” He walked gingerly. I was surprised there were no crutches, but his doctors said he could use them when he felt it was necessary. I knew that meant never.
“I’ll take this upstairs,” Dylan reported, leaving us alone for a minute in the foyer.
