Epilogue
We dig into our meals, and deep satisfaction sinks into my marrow. One minute the dining room’s alight with a calm joy, the next, Greyson’s choking on his food, with James pounding on his back to dislodge the blockage.
Harper, his adorable daughter, is stricken, eyes wide like a baby deer.
“I’m sorry, what did you say sweetheart?” Greyson asks her, hoarse from coughing.
“I…um…I was trying to ask you a question.” She flushes a deep red.
“Can you ask daddy again? I think I misheard you,” Greyson says.
“I asked how come you don’t have a girlfriend,” Harper says behind a curtain of her jet-black hair.
Everyone’s eyes go wider than hers were a second ago, heads ping pong-ing back and forth with the same what the fuck do we say expression.
The story as we know it is Harper was born from a short-lived, casual relationship between Greyson and a woman named Vanessa. She decided motherhood wasn’t for her and bolted, leaving Greyson to raise an infant alone. He eventually tracked her down to get the legalities worked out.
As far as I know, she signed away custody and he changed Harper’s last name to Clark, effectively erasing Vanessa from history. He hasn’t dated since. And by the panicked shock painting Greyson’s typically emotionless face, this is the first time Harper’s asked this question.
“Well, sweetheart, some families have a mom and a dad, or just a dad, or just a mom. Maybe grandma and grandpa are the main adults, or an aunt or uncle. All families look different,” Greyson manages. “Daddy doesn’t need a girlfriend. I have you.”
It isn’t the answer Harper was looking for, and family dinner isn’t exactly the best place for such a sensitive conversation.
“But Gramma and Grampa Andersen are in love. And Gramma and Grampa Dalton are in love. Reid and Izzy are in love, Delilah and Connor are in love. Aunt Livy and James are in love,” Harper whines.
The temperature in the room drops a solid twenty degrees from the icy glare Greyson shoots at James.
I don’t dare laugh, because now isn’t the time, but the fact the nine-year-old has noticed Olivia and James’s behavior proves they haven’t been nearly as careful sneaking around as they think they’ve been.
“Aunt Livy and James are not in love,” Greyson snaps.
Unperturbed, Harper continues. “But how come you aren’t in love? How come I don’t have a mommy?”
Time stops, the room so silent the only sound is Greyson’s teeth grinding.
“Harper, little love, we’ll talk about this later, okay?” he manages.
“May I please be excused?” she asks so quietly I barely hear.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Greyson offers, but Harper’s already scurrying away.
Uncharacteristically rattled, Greyson looks to Mr. and Mrs. Andersen. As his pseudo-parents, of course he’d lean on them for support.
“We’ve got her,” Mr. Andersen says as he and his wife follow behind Harper.
“Fuck. FUCK,” Greyson barks. “Made it nine fucking years before having to break my daughter’s heart. Goddamn it.”
“This couldn’t come at a worse time…” Greyson groans, head in hands.
“What do you mean?” I ask softly. Connor squeezes my shoulder in solidarity.
“I’ve got to find a new nanny. James, Liv, you’ve been life savers helping out whenever you can, but it’s not stable enough for Harper and she’s been unsettled. It can’t be easy watching her friends get picked up every day from school by the same parent, in most cases, a house with a mom and a dad.
“She never knows who’s picking her up until we text her teacher. On any given day, she could be walking out to find me, James, Liv, Mr. or Mrs. Andersen, Reid or Iz, and sometimes you or Connor.”
“That must be hard, the instability is stressful for you both,” I offer, wishing Hope were here to help settle his raging emotions. Is it too much to bring the horse into the house?
Olivia rounds the table to rub her older brother’s back. “We’ll figure this out, Grey. We knew this day would come. You’ve got our support,” she tries to soothe.
“I’ve already asked too much of y’all. And don’t even bother suggesting Meredith,” he snips.
“I hate when you call her that, she’s your mom too,” Olivia argues. “You know she wants to have a relationship with you and Harper—”
“You stop right there,” Greyson interrupts. “No offense, Liv, but I’ve got my reasons why I don’t speak to Meredith, let alone allow her to be anywhere near my daughter.”
Olivia Dalton isn’t one to back down from an argument but swallows her response and returns to her seat.
“Now I have to rattle my little girl’s life even more by introducing some stranger into our home full-time. She won’t see her surrogate aunts and uncles as often, and she’s asking questions I don’t know how to answer.” He buries his hands in his hair, his knee bouncing furiously.
“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but of the group, my schedule is the most flexible,” I say cautiously.
“I could pick her up after school every day and bring her to the ranch. She could spend time with me and Hope. Maybe she can find some peace here amidst the chaos. I can easily walk her to the main house when her grandparents get home, and you can pick her up from there.”
“Fuck. I mean, that’d be great, Delilah. If it isn’t too much of an inconvenience. Just until I can find a nanny,” Greyson says, exhausted.
“No inconvenience at all, I’d love to have her,” I assure him.
Greyson leans back in his chair, defeated.
“Now I have to find nanny number seven. Maybe seven will be my lucky number.”