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“Coming!” Grant hollers.
He shakes his head at Robert and the ghost of a smile flickers across our son’s face. For Robert, that’s the equivalent of roaring laughter.
Hannah and Gracie are playing happily with Jeremy, so I join my mom on the porch swing. She holds Samantha, who sleeps soundly in her arms.
“I’m so glad they get along now,” I say to Mom.
“Who, your dad and Grant?” she asks. “Honey, they never stopped getting along. Your dad never worried that Grant wouldn’t treat you right. He just had a hard time letting you go.”
Her words echo my earlier sentiments and I say, “That makes sense.”
I watch Robert carefully removing the finished patties from the grill and just as carefully laying hot dogs down. “They grow up so fast, don’t they?” I say wistfully.
“Yes,” Mom says, smiling at me with equal wistfulness. “They certainly do.”
I blush and she breaks the awkward moment by asking, “So how’s work going?”
“Wonderfully,” I say, “I interview Congressman Jenner next week and if all goes well with that, I might get to interview Senator Montrose when he’s in town for his campaign.”
“Senator Montrose?” she echoes, eyes wide. “Oh, honey, that’s incredible!”
I blush a little and say, “Thank you.”
Senator Montrose is running for President next year and unless a natural disaster occurs, he will win. He’s unique among politicians in that he has relatively few skeletons in his closet and none of them are so terrible that they might affect his chances. When I interview him, I will address every single one of those skeletons, and I’m sure that he’ll offer very satisfactory explanations for them.
What he might have trouble with is articulating his position on current policy and his plans to change them. He shares that failing with every politician, and as the local political correspondent for the largest press agency in the world, I have to make sure the public is aware of it.
Well, he has time. If he doesn’t have answers when he’s on the campaign trail six months from now, he’ll never have them, and that’s something that America should know.
God, I really do have a wonderful life. I have the man I love, children I love, a job I love and a great relationship with my parents, who accept Grant as my husband far faster than I expect them to.
It’s crazy how things just work out sometimes. I never would have guessed fourteen years ago that someday not only will all of my dreams have come true, but that my life would be even better than I could possibly hope or dream.
I guess I just got lucky.
Mom and I chat for a few more minutes until Robert announces that dinner is ready. Then we all line up buffet style to get our food. Samantha wakes up and I reach for her, but my mom pulls her away.
“Uh uh,” she says, “You get her all the time. It’s grandma’s turn.”
She smiles brightly at Samantha and brings her inside to eat. At a year old, Samantha can’t eat all of the meat yet, but she loves the mac and cheese Grant makes and—for some reason only God knows—the potato salad Dad makes.
I thank Robert as he very carefully offers me a hot dog with just the right amount of mustard and relish, then head inside to sit next to Grant, who pumps his fist in victory and grins triumphantly at Malcolm, who glares playfully back as Denver celebrates Esposito’s third touchdown pass of the quarter.
Dad and Malcolm tease each other as the game goes on and Grant takes advantage of their distraction to feel up my breast.
I slap his hand away and say, “Grant! Stop! The kids are watching!”
He grins and reaches in between my legs and when trying to push his hand away doesn’t work, I grab a throw pillow and cover my lap, putting my plate on top of it so it looks like I’m using it to eat.
“God, Grant,” I whisper just before a soft gasp escapes my lips. “Not now!”
“Tonight then?” he asks.
“Fine!” I say, gasping again, “Just stop! Seriously!”
He pulls his hand away and at the separation, I gasp again, then glare at him.
“You want another baby?” he asks.
