30. Spencer
CHAPTER 30
SPENCER
Big blue eyes peer up at me as I cradle my best friend’s baby girl. Hazel. My niece. Not by blood, but by something even more valuable—sisterhood. I can’t tear my eyes away from her. She’s the spitting image of Mason, save for her cerulean eyes. Those are Ally’s.
“She’s perfect,” I breathe, admiring the small bundle. “She looks just like?—”
“If you say she looks like Mason after I just spent eight months growing her and the last three hours pushing her out, I swear to God, Spence.”
“You. I was obviously going to say you.” I save myself at the last second and glance up to where Ally is lying on the stretcher that seems to take up most of the cramped exam room, her face tired and puffy but still gorgeous.My heart swells to a size I didn’t know it was capable of, stretching to accommodate this new little person that I already love so much, and this new version of my best friend.
“Pfft. I know that’s bullshit. It’s an evolutionary fact that babies come out looking like their fathers.” She waves her hand in the air and rolls her eyes. “It’s a good thing I find Mason so darn attractive.”We both laugh, wiping tears from our eyes.
“She’s pretty cute. You guys made a good one.” I look back down at Hazel, wriggling in my arms. “Hazel … what’s her middle name?”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you …” Ally’s voice trails off as she gives me a pointed look, as if I should be able to read her thoughts. When I don’t say anything to indicate I know what she’s getting at, she comes out with it. “I wanted to name her after you. Hazel Spencer Landry.”My jaw drops in a moment of stunned disbelief, and I can barely pick it up enough to stammer out a response.
“Ally, what … That’s not … I don’t …” All I can do is shake my head. What I want to say is that I don’t deserve the honour of having someone else bear my name. Ally would be the first person to argue with me on that, so I don’t say it, but it’s the truth. To be linked to someone in such a fundamental way, that part of your identity is modelled after them … Hazel should be named after Ally, not me. Ally puts other people ahead of herself; she is thoughtful and kind and considerate.
I only ever think about myself. I’ve had to. There has been no one else in my life to look out for me, so I’ve had to do it. I’m selfish. I hate that part of myself now, now that I’ve seen myself in a different light—through Grady’s eyes. But I don’t know how to be anything else. It’s terrifying to imagine anything else.
“It’s already been decided, Spence. Hazel is lucky to have you to look up to. I want her to be strong and independent like you.” Ally says it with all the sincerity in the world. How can I tell her that those parts of me have just been a survival mechanism? And now they have cemented me in this life that is constantly at war with forming deep and meaningful relationships.
I don’t say anything in response, I have no words.
“I know how your mom felt now. The story she told about holding you for the first time. Like you were her best friend. I know I have a huge support system, but somehow it still feels like it’s just me and her against the world,” Ally says softly. “It’s scary. What if I screw it all up?” I look down at the sweet babe, now sleeping in my arms. It’s unfathomable to me how anyone could ever do anything to hurt her, how anyone would abandon her the way I’ve been abandoned.
“You won’t leave her out to dry. You will do whatever you have to do for Hazel, so she knows she’s loved and cared for. That’s the difference, Ally,” I croak out.
“I have a community around me. I can’t imagine how your mom felt. Hazel has me, but she also has her dad, she has her uncles, she has you.” Ally is about to say something more, but she’s cut off as Mason knocks on the door and asks if Hazel’s uncles can come see her.
I lock eyes with Grady as he walks into the small exam room, and he strides over to Ally, planting a kiss on the top of her head. My heart does a weird flip flop at the sight of it.
“Hey, Mama.” He greets her using the same endearing nickname he gave Winnie. The man adores the women in his life, and it does something to me that I’m unsure how to interpret. It’s a glimpse of the man he has promised he would be for me, the way he shows up for people, in his daily actions.
He comes to stand next to me to admire Hazel. His body is warm next to mine as he peers over my shoulder at her.
“She’s beautiful,” he breathes in awe, and my ovaries are exploding inside me. I’ve never wanted children—I’m still not sure if I do—but holy god my ovaries have turned to mush at this moment.“How does it feel to be an aunty?” he says, his voice rumbling through me.
Aunty. A lump forms in my throat and I try to swallow it down. But when I try to answer him only a small squeak comes out. For the first time in my life, I’m truly speechless.
Aunty. I knew that Hazel would, for all intents and purposes, be my niece. But this is the first moment that I’ve realized the role that I have in that, too.
Aunty. I’m an aunty to someone now. I mean something to someone now.
I glance down at Hazel again and imagine the little person she’ll grow into. A little girl just like I was. A little girl that hoped and dreamed for a family who would love her and never disappoint her. Who wanted nothing more than people around her to take care of her.
I never had that. All I knew was that people left me, that people prioritized themselves ahead of me. I grew up to be untrusting, resentful, closed off to people out of fear that they would hurt me like so many others had.
Aunty.
Suddenly a weight drops onto my shoulders, but it’s not a bad feeling. Not like the feeling of crushing pressure. Just enough pressure, like a weighted blanket that people use to ease anxiety. It’s a responsibility that feels grounding; it feels good, comfortable. The kind of pressure that takes coal and turns it into a diamond.
I never want Hazel to doubt how much her family loves her. I never want to miss her birthday, her big achievements, milestones. I want to be there for every dance recital or hockey game. I want her to know that when she’s a teenager, she can come to me for dating advice when she’s too embarrassed to talk to her mom.
But I have to be here in order to be that for her.
I’m not going to be here for her. I’ve built this life for myself; I’ve chased independence and stability for so long that I’ve created no space to let other people in. I’ve built myself a house I no longer want to live in. The tear I was holding back rolls down my cheek.
“Spencer?” Grady’s gaze has shifted away from Hazel and is now fixed on me, his solid, strong hand warming the small of my back.
I sniffle and look up at him.
“I’m okay,” I lie. It’s my knee-jerk reaction, my most used coping mechanism. I’m okay because I have to be okay. There is no other option. Not now that I’ve signed that contract, not now that I’m moving full steam ahead to protect the life I’ve worked so hard for.
By the way Grady’s mouth has opened, I can tell he’s about to protest and ask me to elaborate, which I wouldn’t even know how to do. Thankfully, before he can say anything, two paramedics in flight jumpsuits enter the room and announce that they’ll be transferring Ally to the hospital in Calgary. Although Hazel seems healthy, she’ll need a thorough assessment and maybe some monitoring to make sure her lungs are strong enough.
Once Ally and Hazel are both secured on the transport stretcher, we follow the crew out to the field in the back. I lean down to give Ally a hug before they load her onto the helicopter, and it takes every ounce of strength I have to let her go. I cup her cheek and kiss the top of her strawberry blond hair, and we say goodbye knowing that it means more than just seeing her off to the hospital. By the time she gets back, I will have already left and gone back to Vancouver, with no plans to return to Heartwood in the near future. I’ll jump into my new, demanding publicist role starting with a three-week trip to Costa Rica and then from there … who knows where they’ll send me. Who knows how long I’ll touch down in Vancouver before I leave again.
Grady drapes his arm over my shoulder, the weight of it comforting as I wipe tears from my eyes. I extend an arm to wave goodbye to Ally and Hazel as the helicopter blades whirr, the long grass in the field behind the clinic bending and swaying in the wind around us.
That just leaves the next goodbye. The one that might just rip my heart out more than leaving Ally. City hopping makes you somewhat hardened to goodbyes, and never forming connections deep enough to make them meaningful always helps the process. But I feel different now. There’s this unfamiliar dread hanging over my head.
Leaving usually causes a flurry of excitement, the adrenaline rush of going into the unknown. Seeing somewhere new, meeting new people. The settled feeling of having secured a new contract with some other travel company or tourism board. Income for the next few weeks or months, depending.
Those things don’t excite me anymore. Not the way they once would have.
This is why. This is why I set these rules for myself. This is my job, my livelihood, the paycheck that keeps a roof over my head. I should have stayed the course, stayed in my lane, and this wouldn’t be so hard. Yet, here I am, and there’s some part of me that once felt small and has now grown bigger and stronger and wants to convince me that I can stay in Heartwood. Stay with this man who does everything right. This man who has pulled me into the fold of his life like I’ve always been here.
But that’s what my mom has always done. She’s always sacrificed for a man, and look at her now. She’s down and out, three divorces later, and staying with Roy because she doesn’t want to lose her house. Again.
I’m well aware of what they say about stupidity. It’s doing the same thing over and over and expecting the same result. Except this time, it’s my mom, and I have the privilege, the opportunity, to look at her experiences and choose something different for myself. A life for myself that isn’t held up by someone else, by a man who is inevitably going to leave me.
I can hold onto Grady, I can hold onto the feelings that he gives me, but it’s safer to keep him at arm’s length. For now.
“Are you good?” Grady gently turns me to face him as the helicopter is finally out of sight.
I nod, eyes cast down, and he brings his hands up to cup my face, making me look at him, into his green-and-brown eyes that are practically aglow in the warm evening sun.
“You’re not though. You weren’t earlier, and you aren’t now either.” Grady smiles softly before planting a gentle kiss on my forehead. I close my eyes and lean into the sensation, soaking in the solid warmth of him while I can. “It’s okay to not be okay, Spence. You don’t have to hold it together around me. This is tough. But Ally and Hazel will be okay, and we’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out together.”Grady pushes me back to look at me again.“I think we deserve a celebratory glass of wine. I know I need one,” he says.
“That sounds delightful,” I agree, and Grady pulls me under his arm again, before walking us both back through the clinic. I pick my purse up off the chair I left it on earlier and check my phone. There’s a text from Sasha confirming that she got my signed contract, and a new voicemail. I listen to it as Grady and I walk out the front door of the clinic and over to his bike.
‘Spencer, honey. It’s Mom. Listen. I’m so sorry.’
Her voice sounds pained, like her apology might actually be genuine. But I keep listening to see where the catch is going to be.
‘I shouldn’t have left like that. This is all my fault, it always has been my fault. You were right that I should have left Roy. If there’s one upside to me going home early, it’s that I found him in bed with our neighbour, and at least now I know what I’m dealing with. I kicked him out. He knew he fucked up, so he said I could have the house. I’m going to really do it this time, be by myself. Maybe you’re right. I need it. Okay, well. You don’t have to call me back unless you want to, I just needed you to know how sorry I am.’
Okay, so, apparently there wasn’t a catch. She seems like she’s finally reflecting on her life choices. I feel sad for her, if anything, and I know we’ll be okay in the end. Marla may be flawed, and somewhat immature for a middle-aged mother, but she is my mother. I love her dearly.
I know I’m right where her relationships are concerned. She needs to take time to be single for a long while, rediscover herself. Build a life that isn’t dependent on anyone else but her. That used to be what I thought I needed too. Up until about two hours ago. Now I wonder if maybe, just maybe, that advice isn’t one size fits all. My mother’s relationship issues are not my own. You can’t necessarily inherit poor taste in men. But I made my choice. I sent the contract to Sasha, and now there’s no turning back.
“Let me cook for you,” Grady says, pouring me a glass of red wine and handing it to me with a quick kiss on my temple, his beard softly scratching my skin.
“Why don’t we cook together? I like when you teach me how.”
“No, I’m going to cook for you,” Grady says, turning his back to me as he starts pulling out pots and pans from the cabinet next to the range. “If this is your last night here for … a while, then I want to do something special for you. Besides, it’s a special night. It’s Hazel’s birthday.” Something in his voice is reserved, and he hesitated, as if not wanting to say how long I would be gone for. Like speaking it into the universe would make it true.
“That’s fine by me,” I say after swallowing a sip of wine. “I’ve gotten used to watching you in the kitchen, and I have to say I enjoy it.”
“I could do like a butler-in-the-buff situation for you if you like.” Grady throws me a coy smile over his shoulder.
“You spoil me.” I bat my eyelashes at him as he pulls out some ingredients from the fridge and places them on the cutting board on the island. He put his weight onto the counter and leans over to me.
“That’s just the Chez Landry treatment,” he says. Then the playfulness winks out of his eyes, and he adds, “You could have this every day, if you decided to stay here.”
“Grady,” I warn, looking at him from under raised eyebrows, “this is already going to be difficult for both of us.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“No, it doesn’t have to be,” I echo. “We can just behave as if this is any other normal night together. I’ll be back before you know it, and you won’t even notice that I’m gone with how much we’ll talk on the phone, and FaceTime.”
Grady nods, accepting the unspoken knowledge that it’s not going to play out exactly like that. Long distance is hard. It doesn’t matter how you slice it. No matter how much you try to make the other person feel included in your day-to-day life, they won’t be because they aren’t there.
I take a deep slug of my wine to ease the sting in my chest.
“Was it the bedroom?” Grady has his back turned to me now, refusing to look back as he asks it, a question that seemingly comes out of the blue, but that has likely been on his mind all afternoon. I realize then that, with all the chaos of going to the clinic and the worry about Ally and Hazel, I forgot to thank him for the bedroom. “Is that why you sent the contract to Sasha? Why you decided to go? Because if it was too much …”
I stand up from the barstool, round the kitchen island and meet him at the stove, using a hand to gently turn him so he’s facing me.
“It was not too much for me. You are not too much for me. Everything you’ve done for me is beyond my wildest dreams. I never thought I deserved someone like you, Grady. I never thought that someone like you was ever a possibility for me. I grew up thinking that the most I could ever have was a man who would want me for my looks and tire of me quickly. Who wouldn’t go out of their way to make me feel special and loved. But you have. More than anything, I want to thank you for that.”
“You deserve someone who will go to the ends of the earth for you, Spencer.” He says it with complete sincerity, and inside, all of my emotions are at war with one another. Grady would, and he has, gone to the ends of the earth for me. And what am I doing? I barely even have faith that we’ll last through the summer. I don’t know what to say back, but Grady luckily fills the silence. “Dinner’s ready. It’s nothing fancy, just spaghetti.”
“I love spaghetti,” I say as he hands me a bowl of pasta and I take it over to the couch.
Grady sits on the other end of the couch facing me, and I pull a blanket over our legs, the way I like to sit with Ally when we catch up and spend time together. Grady has reached the place in my heart that, so far, only Ally has been able to. I’m comfortable with him. I feel like myself. This whole evening is perfect. A comfort meal, snuggled on the couch with the only person I want to be sharing my space with.
“What will you eat at home without me to cook for you?” Grady asks me, and it takes me a second to answer once I’ve slurped down my noodles.
“Well, the options are endless really, now that I know how to dice an onion.”
Grady’s smile reaches his eyes as he laughs and the way they crease at the corners makes me melt.
FaceTime. We have FaceTime. I’ll still get to see those creases around his eyes when he smiles because of something I’ve said. I’ll still get to see his stubbled jawline. But I won’t get to see the way he looks when he first wakes up in the morning, when he rolls over and his eyes are just a little bit puffy. I won’t get to see the way he looks when he holds Hazel.
I clear my throat and try to shake off the thoughts. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, I remind myself.
“In all seriousness, I’ll probably just order in. I don’t want to have food in the fridge that will go bad while I’m in Costa Rica,” I answer.
“You leave when?” he asks, still refusing to make eye contact with me the way he’s avoided it every time he’s asked about my new job or my life in Vancouver. The one I’m going to live without him. With him on the sidelines.
“Next week, I think. I have to go into the Mile High office first and have a bit of an orientation to the company, and then I’ll leave shortly after that with the tour group.”
“The tour group that everyone thinks is a hook-up opportunity.” His tone is flat, he’s making a pointed effort not to insinuate anything, but I know what he’s thinking. I’m going to meet someone. I’m going to find someone new to hook-up with. I hooked up with him, didn't I? I broke so many of my own rules, Grady must think I have no self-control.
But it’s different now.
“If you’re thinking I’m going to indulge, then you don’t have to worry. I’m there to do my job, and only my job. Besides, it wouldn’t look very good if the person trying to turn around the scandalous reputation was also sleeping with customers.” By the look on Grady’s face, I can tell that my answer hasn’t exactly satisfied him. “And I have you to come home to. I don’t need hook-ups anymore.”
Grady’s expression settles with my last explanation, his shoulders visibly drop. It’s the truth. I don’t plan on being with anyone else while we’re trying to make our relationship work. The question is, how long can something like this last when even the most well-intentioned, well-adjusted people swear up and down that long-distance never works?
After dinner, we move to the floor. Grady lights a fire in the hearth, warming us against the chill that still blankets us in the spring evenings. We share another bottle of wine. I fall asleep on Grady’s shoulder, and he carries me to bed, tucking himself around me to be close to me.
The night is perfect. One last, perfect, night.