Chapter 36
thirty-six
. . .
Grant
I throw my keys on the counter, loosen my tie, and reach for a glass out of the cabinet. I need a drink.
"That kind of day, huh?" my sister says.
"Hey, yeah. Thanks for picking up Hazel again. I appreciate it. You can leave now."
"Wow. What a welcome. Please. Stop. The excitement is too much."
"Sorry. I didn't mean it that way. It has been that kind of day."
I spread my fingers and thumb across my forehead, attempting to relieve the tension. If anyone would understand my hesitation about Sophia, it's Sarah.
She pulls out a chair and sits down at the table. "So, spill it."
"Did you know Hazel has been hanging out with Sophia?"
I twist my glass on the surface and take a sip of my bourbon, trying to keep my reaction neutral so I don't lead the witness. I want to see her honest reaction.
"I did."
"And?"
"And?"
"It's weird, right?"
She doesn't respond. She's staring at me now. I hate it when she does this. She plays the quiet game when she thinks I'm being an idiot and that I need a minute to digest what I've just said.
"What? Just say it."
She looks down as she brings her hands up to rest on her cheeks like she's taking a moment to consider exactly what she wants to say to me.
"You are an amazing father. When Geneva became pregnant, I admit I wasn't sure how you would respond. You've resisted anything serious when it comes to love and relationships for as long as I can remember." She pauses for a minute. "Actually, ever since Dad died."
"Ok, Sarah, we're not going there."
The last thing I want to do is hash out my father's death and the aftermath of the heartache he left behind. Having your father pass away when you are young is one thing. Watching your mother basically check out of life because of it is another.
"Why not, Grant? You never go there, and I think that is your biggest problem."
"Ok, my biggest problem is not wanting to rehash something that happened over twenty years ago?"
"No, your biggest problem is letting something that happened when you were eleven years old and processed with an eleven-year-old brain make decisions for a grownup, thirty-six-year-old man who lives a completely different life than his mother did."
The punch lands. Watching the woman who is supposed to take care of you check out of her role as a mother fucks with a kid. I understood her grief; I missed my dad, too. He was a great dad. What I couldn't understand was how the grief stole her from me.
She was a vibrant lady before. She showed up to every school activity and bake sale and fed the neighborhood kids when we were hungry.
She cared for me when I was sick. She made our house a home with decorations to celebrate every holiday and planned the best summer vacations.
She did everything you'd expect a mom to do.
And all of it, everything, just disappeared when he did.
My sister picked up a lot of the slack since she was older.
We wouldn't have even had a Christmas tree that first year if Sarah hadn't pulled all the decorations down and set it all up herself.
I watched what love did to my mother, and I swore I would never fall in love.
I wouldn't—I won't lose myself because of love.
Sarah doesn't understand the logic, but she's stronger than Mom.
She loves in spite of hurt. Hell, she just got out of a ten-year relationship with her partner that should have destroyed her, but instead, she moved out here to start fresh and is already dating again.
I wish I were like that, but I know I'm just like my mother.
"What does that even have to do with Sophia going behind my back to spend time with Hazel?"
"Cut the shit, Grant. She didn't go behind your back. You're mad because you have feelings. You're mad because you don't know what to do with those feelings, but you do know how to push people away."
Another sucker punch. That one hurt.
"You never let yourself get close to anyone. In fact, I bet you have some system you follow where it's a max of five dates or five weeks, whichever is longer, and then you politely bow out of any more interaction."
It's six weeks or twelve dates, whichever is longer. I do have an emergency ripcord if the woman gets too clingy, but I don't tell her that.
"You make me sound like a terrible person. I have a daughter to consider, too."
"You didn't even try to make it work with Geneva."
"She didn't want to try."
"Maybe. But we'll never know because it wasn't even in the realm of possibility. What I can't understand, though, is the disconnect between your resistance to an intimate, romantic relationship for you and the deep love and devotion you have for your daughter."
My eyes snap up to hers as a look of confusion crosses my face. "It's totally different. She's my blood. She has my DNA."
There is no alternative with Hazel. It was never an option not to love her with everything I have. It just was and always will be love.
"It's the same. You let yourself open to the possibility. You could lose Hazel the same way you could lose a partner, but somewhere in your head, you've let yourself take the risk with Hazel. The reward is worth it."
My mind is spinning. She doesn't understand that I didn't have a choice with Hazel. And I'm glad I didn't. I love Hazel with everything I have. It's just not the same as loving someone else, someone romantically. It's different. Right?
"Look. I love you. I don't want to fight with you. You're different with Sophia. You've broken so many of your little rules because of your desire to be around her. You're happy. Go with it. Take the chance. If anyone is worth the risk, I'd say it's her."
I rise out of my chair and go to rinse my glass out in the sink. I hear the chair scrape the floor, indicating my sister is leaving the table, too. When I turn around, I'm alone, and I guess our conversation is over. But the damage is done. She landed the knockout punch.
I admit that Sophia has gotten further into my heart than anyone else I've ever dated or been with, but that doesn't make it love.
The chimes coming from the front living room announce the arrival of pizza, and I silently thank my sister for having the foresight to order in. I don't think I could do a sit-down dinner after that intervention.
Pizza and salad boxes cover the coffee table, and I settle in on the couch, ready to zone out to another viewing of Wall-E. We've seen it a million times now, so zoning out won't be an issue. I'll be able to laugh and respond on autopilot if needed, and it means no more talking with my sister.
I spend the next hour in my head about Sophia and wondering what it might be like if she were here eating with us tonight. What if she were part of our family routine?
The credits roll, and after another brutal negotiation to read three books before bed, Hazel is finally out, and I'm eager to talk to Sophia.
I walk Sarah to the door, and she has that look on her face that she's worn since we were kids—the one that says she's about to drop some big-sister wisdom whether or not I want it.
"You know," she says softly, "Mom lost herself in grief because Dad was her whole world. But you, Grant? You've built this beautiful life, this career, this relationship with Hazel. You're already doing things differently."
She turns to leave but pauses at the threshold. "Life's going to hurt sometimes, little brother. That's a given. The question is whether you want to experience all the beautiful parts, too."
In the kitchen, I pour another drink. The bourbon burns as it slides down my throat, but it doesn't wash away Sarah's truth. Through the window, I spot Sophia in the pool, and I slip outside so we can finally talk.
It doesn't register that she's swimming until she's pulling herself up out of the pool and my eyes are drawn to her tiny bikini. Water is dripping over every bare piece of skin, and I jump when she speaks.
"Hey! How was your day?"
The smile that lights up her face takes my breath away. She's genuinely happy to see me, even though I was a total dick to her last night and have been avoiding her.
"Good. Same as always."
"Good."
"Yours was good?"
She walks over to the lounge chairs and motions for me to follow her before gesturing for me to take a seat beside her.
I walk closer, but I don't think it's a good idea for me to get comfortable.
I see a flash of hurt cross over her eyes, but she's a great actress and recovers easily.
In fact, I may have been imagining the hurt. It's really hard to say.
"That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. There was a little incident on set today."
I rush over to sit next to her, worried that she is hurt or something worse.
"Are you ok? Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine. It's nothing physical. I actually overheard some gossip. Unfortunately, it was gossip about you and me."
I swallow my nerves. I'm not sure where she's going with this, but I'm hoping it's nothing serious.
"You and me?"
"Seems the only reason I'm producing and starring in this movie is because of some special favors I'm offering you."
"You're fucking kidding me. Who said that? I'll fire them tonight."
"It's just some gaffers. Really, it's not a big deal. People talk. And people love to talk about women even more. God forbid we might be smart and talented."
She laughs the insult off, and I'm in awe of her resilience.
This woman is so talented and has managed to navigate and overcome the bullshit underbelly this business can harbor.
She's only twenty-five years old. Jesus.
She's so young. I think her maturity and ambition make me forget she's still a baby in this industry.
It feels wrong to try to make something with her work. She's got so much of her career and life ahead of her that she shouldn't even consider settling down. And she definitely doesn't need to step into a parenting role, especially one that isn't for her own child.
"You're handling it way better than I would. Than I am."
"I guess I just wanted to make sure we're being careful. I know there are some headlines. I know Lucas is probably aware there's something going on, and I appreciate his discretion, but I think maybe we need a plan."
She's laying the path I need to slow down whatever this is. I take advantage of the request.
"I agree. You'll be working up in Santa Clarita next week, so it shouldn't be a problem to tone it down a bit.
" I clear my throat and stand back up, pacing back and forth.
I'm looking for the courage to say what I want to say to her.
"Actually, it might be better if we tone it down anyway.
I know we talked about seeing where this might go, but I worry that Hazel is getting too attached to you. "
She stands; anger sparks in her eyes.
"What?"
"I didn't realize the two of you were spending so much time together."
She's mad. She pushes her hair behind her ears and crosses her arms in front of her.
"I can't help if she's outside when I get home or she pops by to share with me stories from her day. What am I supposed to do, Grant? Ignore her? Tell her to go away because her father doesn't want her to get any ideas about the two of us?"
She scoffs, grabs the towel off the chair, and wraps it around her body.
"You're right. I appreciate that you are so good to her. She adores you. It's just—"
"It's fine, Grant. Message received."
"It's just—Hazel is my whole life."
I watch as her shoulders relax and her head falls forward.
"I know."
She walks toward the bungalow, and I can't stop myself from following her, wanting to touch her, to hold her next to me. I'm overwhelmed with a need to comfort her. Instead, I brush my fingers down her arm to get her attention.
"I really do appreciate everything you do for Hazel. I know she adores you."
Sophia turns to face me. Her eyes hold mine for a minute, like she wants to say so much more to me. "I adore her, too."
She breaks her gaze, walks inside and over to the couch, and folds up the blanket draped over the arm. "I'm pretty tired, and I know you are busy. I've got an early day tomorrow, too."
"Right. Ok. Yes. I better get back to the house, too. Hazel. Sleep."
That's such a bullshit thing to say when she knows I've been over here almost every night since she started staying here.
She locks the bungalow behind me, making it obvious that nothing will happen between us tonight.
I didn't come over here thinking anything was going to happen.
In fact, I was pretty adamant that cooling off on being with her was the best thing for us right now.
But nothing has felt worse than walking away from her, knowing she won't be in my arms tonight.