Chapter 20
Savannah
I'm officially overdue and sick of myself. I’ve eaten so much spice, I feel like I would pass for a cardamom pod myself.
So today, I switched back to my normal baking program.
Although the curry puffs did sell out every day, and I now have a long list of orders for larger pies than I ever thought possible.
All of which I have baked and stored in the freezer, ready for a supply I can sell after I give birth.
And as he said, Griffin has been here all week. At the bakery every morning, drifting in and out through the day, always finding some excuse to check on me.
He works from home, from the distillery, from the corner table in my shop… but he’s here. With me. Sleeping beside me at night like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And I’ve let him. More than let him… I’ve wanted him here.
At night, we talk, kiss, laugh. He reads my baby book out loud, his voice low and steady, and we cross-check everything with the app he downloaded.
I’m forty weeks now, so the book has run out of pages, but my pregnancy is still ongoing, and we’re both on edge, waiting for the moment everything changes.
Having Griffin here brings comfort, yes, but it’s more than that.
Every day, my respect for him deepens. Every day, my feelings shift into something I can’t pretend is simple.
I’ve never had someone who shows up for me without being asked.
Someone who notices when I’m overwhelmed.
Someone who cares in a way that feels… safe. Solid. Real.
We’re not just friends. We passed that line quietly, somewhere between the late-night conversations and the soft kisses and the way he watches me like he’s memorizing every version of me.
If I wasn’t pregnant with another man’s baby, maybe we would’ve crossed into something more a long time ago. Maybe we would’ve stopped pretending we’re taking this slow for any reason other than fear. Because the way he kisses me… It steals the breath right out of my lungs.
And I know, with a clarity that scares me, that Griffin is a man I could love. Not just for now. Not just because he’s here when I need him. For a lifetime.
Now, as the last customers leave for the day, I sigh out a breath.
My body is starting to feel tired and my mind matches it.
Like I want to nap all the time, and my brain is starting to frizzle up.
I’ve never been a napper; I’ve always been pretty good with my energy expenditure, but carrying a little human the size of a watermelon is tiring me out.
My ankles have doubled in size, my face is puffy, my clothes are stretched. I couldn’t feel any less attractive.
Before I can turn the closed sign over and lock the door, someone else walks in.
“Welcome to Betty’s Ba…” My words die on my lips, and the smile falls from my face as the one person I was least expecting walks into my bakery. “Eden?” Shock coats my body as my older sister stands near the door, looking around before her eyes settle on me.
Her face is hardened, and my shoulders tense from her expression.
“So you did it.”
I wish she had more pride in her tone. Maybe some empathy. But no. She spits the words out at me like they’re poison. Giving a huff of a disgruntled laugh at the end.
“Opened the bakery, you mean?” My hand instinctively moves to my belly, shielding my child from the known enemy.
“Looks like you're not doing so well. No customers… Barely any stock in your cabinets.” She folds her arms across her chest, looking down her nose at me like I’m a failure.
I’m not sure when she went from being a caring big sister to one with such contempt.
I swallow roughly. If I’m honest, a caring big sister wasn’t something she ever was.
I followed her around like a puppy dog waiting for any crumbs of compassion she’d drop for me.
Of which never came. Spoiled by my parents from a young age, as the golden child, she got everything she ever wished for. Was never told no.
“It's closing time. I’ve sold out.” I’m proud of what I’ve achieved. The lines out the door are not getting shorter. No matter how much I bake, I always sell out, and I’ve now got more money in my bank account than I ever had living at home. I’m not letting her rain on my parade.
“Still making excuses. You know, Faith, I pity you. Your boyfriend impregnates you, leaves you because he knows you’re worthless.
You embarrass yourself and us in our community with your”—she makes a show of looking at my bump like I’m contagious—“sin. You know Douglas and I have been trying for years. You know that baby is better off with me than you. Why are you being so selfish?”
My eyebrows rise in surprise. It’s been a while since I heard my real name. So much so, it’s jarring. Like I’m suddenly in a whole other world.
“Selfish?”
“Stupid too. You think I don’t know that this silly little bakery is just a temper tantrum.”
“Temper tantrum?” I repeat the words back to her, head shaking.
“You know you’re going to end up with nothing.
No one. Such a disgrace. No good Christian man will want you.
You’ve ruined the family. You need to kneel at the feet of God and repent your sins.
You know that you need to give me this baby.
The baby I’ve been praying for. The baby I deserve.
If you fully repent and realize you and your sinfulness have no place in this baby’s life, our parents might consider taking you back, but that baby deserves a rich and loving life. ”
I swallow. She’s crazy.
“Everything alright?” Griffin's voice rumbles into the bakery from behind me and soothes me instantly, as does his hand as it settles around my waist, his thumb rubbing softly across my skin.
“Oh, you are so shameful.” Eden’s face shrivels up when she notices the contact, and Griffin pulls me a little closer.
“Pregnant with one man's baby and another man has his hands on you. Have you no shame?” My sister raises her right hand in the air, as if overtaken by the Spirit to pray over me.
“Have you no shame?” Griffin steps forward, shoulders tight, and I grab his hand, squeezing it. Keeping him with me. I feel his anger and as he steps toward Eden, and I want to de-escalate the situation before it goes up in a ball of anger from both sides.
“You need to leave, Eden. You’re not welcome here. You’re not welcome in my life anymore.” I’m trying to remain calm and mature. Not wanting to stress the baby or Griffin. The fierce defensiveness thrumming from his body beside me makes me feel protected.
“That baby deserves better than to be raised by a woman who isn’t saved and refuses to repent to Christ. What kind of future is that?” Eden spits, her face screwed so tight like she tasted something disgusting.
Griffin doesn’t flinch, but I feel his hand grip mine tighter.
“I think you’ve said enough.” His voice is low but firm.
Eden’s eyes narrow at me, ignoring Griffin completely.
“You think God smiles on this? This is sin parading as comfort.” She’s almost to the point of being hysterical.
I bet this visit isn’t going how she imagined.
I wonder if her husband Douglas or my parents know she’s here.
Probably. They no doubt discussed it over dinner last night, then spent the evening praying on it.
She probably thought she would come in here, see me crying and struggling, wanting to give her my baby because life got too hard.
But I don’t cower at hard. I thrive in it.
I step forward, pulse thudding. “You want scripture?” My voice is steadier than I expect. “Try John 8:7: ‘Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.’”
She scoffs. “Don’t twist the Word to justify your shame.”
“I’m not twisting anything. I’m reminding you that grace exists. That God doesn’t abandon people because they fall. He meets them there.”
Eden’s mouth opens, but Griffin cuts in. “And James 1:17 says, ‘Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.’ That includes this baby. Doesn’t matter how it got here. It’s here. It’s loved.”
Eden’s face flushes red, but she doesn’t speak. Her silence hangs in the air.
I rest my hand on my belly again, not to shield, but to claim. “You don’t get to decide what God forgives. And you don’t get to decide anything about my baby.”
Eden’s eyes flicker. For a second, I see raw rage swirling. But it’s gone as fast as it came.
She turns toward the door. “You’ll regret this.”
Griffin’s hand tightens in mine. “Not today.”
She pushes out the door so fast it bangs against the frame, and I blow out a breath.
“You alright?” Griffin faces me, his eyes moving quickly over my bump and back again.
“Yeah…” My shoulders sag as I rub my belly, ensuring the baby knows it’s loved regardless of what their aunt says.
Griffin's hand rests on mine, and I look up at him. His large, warm hand encases my own, placing a caring touch to the bump like he knows we both need it. If anyone was walking past, they would assume he’s the father, touching me like he is.
It’s intimate, yet I feel entirely comfortable in his embrace.
“Your sister?”
“The one and only.” I take a deep breath, trying to fill my lungs, but this baby has everything squished so tight it’s almost impossible.
“I’m proud of you. Sticking up for yourself.
Sticking up for your baby.” His thumb brushes across my belly before his hand glides around my back and he pulls me tight.
I feel his lips on the top of my head, him breathing in my hair, and I close my eyes as my head hits his chest and I hug him close.
Feeling safe. Protected. Maybe even loved.
It’s been a long time since I let go and leaned on someone like this.
Both physically and emotionally. My grandparents are probably the last time I truly trusted someone and knew they were on my side.