Hating you, p.19
Hating You, page 19
“Um,” I drag out. “Sway? Wanna expand on that a bit?”
Ya know, since you don’t have a uterus and all.
Anthony laughs. “Throw ‘em a bone, Sway.”
Sticking her tongue out at me, the girl is practically glowing as she finally gives in.
“Fiiine, but you should all see the looks on your faces. Anthony and I were talking about our goals and the things we want for our future. Obviously, children are one of them, but I never really dared to dream about a future with kids because, as you all know, I can’t have any. But Anthony asked about the possibility of adoption or surrogacy, and it got me thinking about the eggs we had frozen before….” She looks over at Grady, who’s practically gnawing on a chicken bone while staring right back at her. Clearly, he’s invested in the conversation even if he has no idea what she’s talking about.
“Before my last surgery in high school,” she finishes cryptically. “Anyway, Anthony started looking into surrogacy when I mentioned it to him, and one thing led to another, and we’re looking for a potential surrogate that we think might be a good fit.”
“What’s a surrogate?” Grady asks before stuffing a fork full of mashed potatoes into his mouth.
“Oh. He’s uh…Owen? Wanna answer that one?” Sway suggests.
Owen clears his throat and sets down his fork. “She’s someone who can carry a baby for a mom and dad who aren’t able to carry it themselves. Then she gives it to the real parents after the baby’s born.”
“So, like what mom was for me?”
“Oh. Uh, not exactly. Your mom was still related to you. In Anthony’s and Sway’s case, the baby would be related to them, but someone else would hold the baby in their stomach until the baby’s old enough to survive outside of it. It’s kind of complicated….” Owen squeezes the back of his neck as his voice trails off, though I don’t blame him. This isn’t exactly what I would consider a normal topic of conversation during dinner.
“May I try?” I offer.
Owen exhales in relief and nods. “Yup. Be my guest.”
With a smile, I turn to Grady. “So, Grady. To make a cake, you need eggs, flour, sugar, and a few other ingredients, right?”
Grady mimics his dad’s earlier movement from a few seconds ago and bobs his head up and down, shocking me with how similar they are.
“Well, it’s the same for making a baby. You need an egg and another…ingredient to make it work. But it won’t turn into a cake without an oven. Basically, Sway and Anthony have all the ingredients to make an amazing cake, but they don’t have an oven to bake it. That’s what a surrogate is. She’s the…oven in the process. Right, guys?”
Anthony and Sway both nod. “Yup.”
“Your mom gave the egg,” I continue, “and your dad, uh, he gave another ingredient, then she held you in her tummy until it was time for you to be born. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah. So, how do you get the ingredients into the oven, though?” he asks with way more curiosity than any six-year-old has a right to have.
“Aaand that’s a topic for another day,” Owen decides, his face reddening as he nudges Grady’s plate closer to him. “Eat your dinner.”
Grady shrugs. “Okay.” Then he dives back into his mashed potatoes.
Satisfied that Grady’s curiosity has been taken care of––for now, anyway––I turn back to Sway. “Anywho, I think this is pretty much the best thing I’ve ever heard. I’m so happy for you guys.”
Her soft smile makes me want to cry. Because it’s filled with a hope that she didn’t dare to have before Anthony came along. Anthony bends toward her and brushes his lips against her cheek. “Thanks, Say. We don’t want to count our chickens before they hatch, but we found an agency that looked over our case and sent us the papers this week.”
“Yup, and then…we had to get the documents notarized, so we went to the courthouse and….” A giddy grin slips out of Sway before she buries her face in her hands and laughs even louder.
“And what, Swayze Girl?” my dad interjects.
“And we did what Sway does best,” Anthony answers. “We did something completely spontaneous and got married while we were there.”
“You didn’t!” my mom gushes.
“We totally did,” Sway returns.
“Congratulations, Sway!”
“I’m so happy for you!”
“That’s awesome, guys!”
“Thanks,” Anthony and Sway return in unison before Sway adds, “We emailed the signed papers back to the agency today, and now, we’re just waiting for the next step. We wanted to wait and tell you guys when Skye was here.” She looks over at Anthony and shrugs. “But then we kinda figured it might be best to do it face-to-face, and there’s no way I was gonna be able to hold in all that awesomeness until the next Sunday dinner.”
“Skye will be happy for you,” I tell them. “Just like how I’m happy for you. Seriously, this is the greatest news ever.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m glad my daughter found a good man who treats her right,” Dad tells them with an edge to his voice.
“And I always will,” Anthony promises before raising his glass. “To family.”
The rest of us join in. “To family.”
My dad is deathly quiet throughout the rest of dinner, other than a few grandpa jokes tossed in Grady’s direction. I have a feeling it’s the calm before the storm. And if Owen wants another chance at winning my dad’s approval, which is something I desperately want, then he has his work cut out for him. Regardless of what my dad said to me the last time I was here, Owen still hurt me, and my dad knows it.
22
Owen
The rhythmic creak from Brock’s rocking chair makes my pulse spike as I head up the freshly shoveled steps toward the porch.
Coffee mug in hand, he lifts his chin in greeting. “Still hiding from me?”
“Grady wanted to try out the snowmobiles––”
“I’m kidding, Owen. Take a seat.”
The cold air does nothing to ease the heat of his stare, but I inhale deeply anyway, prepping for an onslaught of reasons why I should stay the hell away from his oldest daughter. My weight causes the old wooden chair to groan as I collapse into it before my gaze searches for Grady and Saylor playing in the snow despite the darkening sky.
Like a picture-perfect moment.
Like a dream that I never believed could be reality.
Yet here it is. There’s just one more obstacle.
I glance over at Brock, but he’s still staring at his daughter and my son bonding.
“I always thought she’d be a good mom,” Brock comments.
“So do I.”
“Your son likes her.”
“He does.”
“She likes him.”
“Yeah.” I take in her giant grin as she tosses a snowball at his puffy coat. “She does.”
“She’s happy.”
“I hope she is.”
“You can’t see it?” he asks.
Tearing my attention from the two most important people in my life, I glance over at Brock again. “I can see it.”
“I’m sorry that I didn’t.”
My brows twitch up toward my hairline before I cover my surprise with indifference. “Look, I know that I put you in a bad position, and––”
“Let me finish, Owen.”
I sigh but keep my mouth shut.
Slowly, Brock lifts the steaming cup of coffee to his lips and takes another sip. I sure hope it’s decaf, or the guy’s going to be awake for the rest of the night.
His lips smack together, savoring the rich flavor from his French-pressed cup. “I know what I told you that night. That she deserved more than to be your sideline girl while you went and lived your life. I know that you didn’t agree but were too respectful to argue with your girlfriend’s dad. I know that if I hadn’t spoken with you that night, you wouldn’t have broken her heart on this very porch.”
I swallow thickly. “I’m the one that approached you, Mr. Swenson––”
“I still stand by my observation that you were both young and stupid, you know,” he interrupts. “But I should’ve let you make your own decisions. Your own potential mistakes. I was being overprotective and”––he studies me carefully––“maybe a little callous toward you.”
Scratching my chin, I tear my gaze away from his and look at Grady before putting myself in Brock’s shoes. I’ve done it more times than I can count since Grady was born, but this is the first time I really understand Brock’s perspective and the guilt he must be carrying around for intervening in his daughter’s relationship without her knowledge.
“I get it,” I rasp. “If Grady brought home a girl at sixteen and told me that he was going to marry her one day, I would think he was full of shit.”
“Yeah, but you would’ve probably had the decency to keep your nose out of their business instead of giving him an ultimatum between his future and his girlfriend.”
“I asked for your permission,” I counter.
“It was a promise ring, not an engagement.”
I scoff. “We both know that it was the same thing to me.”
He lifts his chin in agreement and takes another sip of his drink before sighing softly. “I shouldn’t have asked you to choose.”
“I should’ve chosen her.”
Brock smiles. “Don’t think I don’t remember what you said to me that night. You told me that you used to live for football before you met Say––”
“And now I live for her,” I repeat, living in the memory as if it were yesterday.
“But I didn’t believe you. I couldn’t see that you wanted to pursue your dreams so that you could provide for hers. And even when you told me you’d give up your future in football, I forced you to see the bigger picture. That you weren’t old enough to make a decision like that over a girl. I put you in a no-win situation, Owen. And that was a crappy thing to do. I was selfish. I wanted her to stay close. I didn’t want her to follow you across the country.” He shakes his head, his grip tightening around the mug that Say had painted for him when she was a little kid.
Again, I put myself in his shoes. I’d be protective with Grady, too, and I can’t even imagine keeping my Papa Bear in check with a little girl like Saylor.
“I get it,” I rasp again.
“Doesn’t make it right,” he counters. “She’s my baby girl, Owen. She might be almost thirty now, but she’s still my baby girl.”
“I know.”
His eyes glisten with unshed tears, but he swallows them back and admits, “I didn’t know how to let go.”
“I wasn’t asking you to,” I choke out. The memories swirl around me like the fog on a cold winter morning.
“I know that now.” His nod is somber. Almost reverent. “I need to know that you won’t hurt her again. That you won’t leave without her again.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You promise?”
“Yes, sir.”
He sniffs, then takes another swig of his drink, running his thumb across the rim slowly, over and over again, as he mulls over something in his head.
“Just…make her happy,” he murmurs. “I’ve seen it with Sway and Anthony, I thought I saw it with Liam and Skye before he broke her heart, and I know that I saw it when Say was younger with you.” He lifts his chin toward his daughter, who’s helping Grady build a snowman. “And now, as I look at her playing with your little boy in the snow, I can see it again. I was so afraid of losing her that I did lose her. Her vibrant smile. Her vivacious need to explore and to live. She was just a shell before you turned back up. And right now, looking at her over there, I just…I’m sorry, Owen.”
“Me too. For hurting her and for taking so long to get my head out of my ass and fight for what I want.”
“Too long,” he agrees, his eyes shining with mirth. “But I’m glad you’re back.”
“Me too. And thank you for this chat. I needed it.”
“Don’t mention it, Owen.”
A snowball explodes at our feet, cutting off our conversation as giggles ensue from the snow-covered front lawn. My neck snaps toward the culprits.
Feigning innocence, Saylor points at Grady. “He did it!”
Grady’s jaw drops. “Uh-uh! Say did it!”
“Nope. Totally Grady,” she teases.
He grabs her waist and tries to tackle her but can’t get any traction from the powdery snow.
“Why. Won’t. You. Fall?” he growls through bouts of giggles, his little legs sliding across the ground as if he’s on an ice rink.
Say’s hair blows in the wind as she cackles even louder. “Muah-hahaha! I’m the all-powerful Snow Goddess!”
I laugh and pat Brock on the back. “I better get that carrot they were asking for before the Snow Goddess throws another snowball at us.”
“Hey! It was Grady!” Say yells.
“Uh-huh, sure,” Brock returns before calling out, “Grady! Go for her knees! Go for her knees, boy!”
Chuckling under my breath, I go and grab a carrot from the kitchen before my heavy boots carry me back to where I belong.
With Say and Grady.
23
Saylor
The house was dark when I got home later that night, but I climbed into bed and fell asleep with a hesitant smile etched into my skin. The day was perfect. And the next morning, I find out that I’m not the only one who had a memorable Sunday evening. I feel like I entered the Twilight Zone as soon as I woke up to the sound of Liam sneaking out our front door.
“So, let me get this straight,” I ask, my eyebrows pinched as I interrogate a very happy Skye for the hundredth time since she spilled the beans this morning. “You’re getting divorced?”
“Yup. I’m getting divorced,” Skye announces.
“But you love him,” I conclude.
“Yup.”
“And he proposed.”
A big, dopey grin stretches across her face, and she looks down at her hand resting against the kitchen counter. It’s sporting a gorgeous new engagement ring.
“Yup,” she answers.
My brain feels like it’s short-circuiting as I try to piece together the information she’s thrown my way.
Rubbing my temples, I confirm, “And you said, ‘Yes.’”
“Sure did,” she replies.
“And you’re moving out?”
She nods. “Right again, my friend.”
“Are you moving back into his parents’ house?”
Skye was a live-in nanny for Liam’s little brother before Liam screwed everything up by returning home and asking Skye for a gigantic favor in the form of a fake marriage that wound up becoming very real.
“Nope.” She shudders. “We’re going to go look at apartments for now. I think it’ll end up being our home base. Then the rest of the time, we’ll travel the world and help those who are less fortunate than us.”
Yup. I definitely entered the Twilight Zone.
“You’re serious,” I decide, inspecting her like she’s been captured by a body snatcher, and she’s not my real sister anymore. Her cheeks are flushed, and she looks happier and more alive than I’ve seen in months. Actually, I haven’t seen her this happy since she found out about Liam’s lie. It ripped her apart.
“Yup. Dead serious,” she replies, her tone brooking no argument.
“And you’re okay with this?”
Laughing, she walks around the counter and pulls me into a hug. “I’ve never been happier, Say. It’s like every single piece fell into place. He’s even giving me a divorce so we can have a real wedding. The one that I wanted. With the dress. And the church. And the man of my dreams that I’m marrying for the right reason…because I love him.”
With a giant bear hug, I squeeze her as tight as I can and murmur, “I’m happy for you, Skye.”
“Me too.”
“Normally, I’d say we should celebrate with a yummy breakfast or something, but I need to get to work, and you need to shower.”
Her jaw drops. “Excuse me?”
“No offense, but you smell like sex.”
Cheeks on fire, she buries her head in her hands as a light laugh escapes her. “You did not just say that.”
“I most certainly did. Now. Chop-chop, little sister. We’ll celebrate tonight.”
Cringing, she chews her thumbnail while avoiding my gaze like it’s the plague.
“What is it?” I ask.
Her attention darts over to me before continuing its perusal of the room. “I mean…I kinda, sorta, maybe made plans with Liam––”
I wave her off. “Oh. Say no more. I get it.”
“I can cancel––”
“Don’t. We’re good, Skye. Trust me. I get it.”
“You do?”
“Of course. You deserve to spend every single minute with Liam for the rest of your life if that’s where you’re happiest. And I can attest that when you’re with Liam, that’s definitely where you’re happiest.”
Chewing her lower lip, she argues, “I know, but––”
“But you don’t want to leave your lonely sister behind?”
She grimaces. “Maaaaybe?”
“Well, I have news for you, little sister. If you hadn’t bailed on dinner last night, you’d know that I brought a certain guest to Mom and Dad’s house.”
Eyes like saucers, she gasps. “A certain guest with the affectionate and aptly chosen nickname of The Big O?”
With a wry grin, I mimic her word from earlier. “Maaaaybe?”
“Saylor!” she yells before practically tackling me with a bear hug. “How did you not tell me?! I’m so freaking happy for you!”
“Me too,” I reply into a head full of her hair. “Me too. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I kind of…didn’t have the chance.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re totally fine, I promise. And you know what?”
“What?” I ask.
“We deserve this.”
“Ya think? Personally, I’m kinda, sorta waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
