Griffin (Ruthless MC 3)

Maybe…

Griffin steps forward and answers for me. “Yes, it’s true. It’s all true. I brought Olivia to meet you as your birthday present.”

Greg juts out his chin. “Did you run a DNA test on this so-called birthday present before planning a wedding this time?”

This time? What the heck? How many people has Griffin been secret-baby engaged to before me?

“Sure did,” Griffin answers. “I can have Jenni send you the results, if you need to verify them. And don’t worry, my lawyers are working on the prenup paperwork as we speak.”

The DNA test is news to me—one more outrageous thing Griffin’s done to throw on the pile.

And did I think everybody was looking at us when we were still faraway in the foyer? Now, they might as well have popcorn. They’re watching us so close. I cringe, waiting for Greg’s reaction, along with everyone else.

The oldest Latham stares at us for a long, hard second.

Then his entire face bursts into a wide smile. “Well, if this ain’t the best birthday present I ever got!”

He holds his arms out wide to O2 and says, “Come here, Granddaughter. Give your old granddad a hug!”

So, I guess I know where O2 got her general enthusiasm for life. Greg Latham happily bonds with me a little over being from Tennessee—especially after I tell him my father was born in Latham County too, before moving away when he was a little boy. Then the Latham patriarch spends his entire birthday party showing her around the house and introducing her to his guests, like she’s simply a long-time member of the family they never met.

For the record, I still despise Griffin Latham more than gnats in my sweet tea, but I have to ask, “Is he always like this?”

“No, never,” Griffin answers out the side of his mouth. He appears a little stunned. “I guess he really was serious about being ready for grandkids.”

Geoff spends most of the party giving us the stink eye from other corners of the room. But we get enthusiastic hugs from everyone else—especially Geoff’s mom, Whitney. She’s one of those Tennessee belles who grew up so wealthy she never bothered to adopt a Southern accent.

Whitney and Greg seem to have one of those ex-relationships that you’re always reading about in celebrity magazines. She congratulates me and happily introduces herself and her totally opposite wife. A short and squat golf pro named Merri.

"Like in Merry Christmas, but with an i,” she tells O2.

O2 immediately decides she can work with that. “I do have two grandmas!” she cheers.

Apparently, Whitney’s already started wedding planning. “I knew you two would want to get married as soon as possible, considering Greg’s…ah, enthusiasm to see his sons married. So I’ve been texting back and forth with our family friend Nora Benton. How does a Benton Ballroom ceremony on the last Sunday in September sound?”

“That’s O2’s birthday,” I immediately answer to explain why that date won’t work.

“Yay! That’s my birthday!” O2 cheers to immediately invalidate my reason for saying no to a wedding in less than six weeks.

Whitney laughs, beaming down at O2. “Perfect, then. Oh, you remind me so much of how Griffie was when he was a little boy! Just so enthusiastic and full of life.”

Seriously? O2 gets it from her father, not her grandfather? Also…Griffie?

“Do you sing too, O2?” Whitney asks.

Wrong question.

O2 belts out that dang G-Latham song I haven’t been able to get her to stop singing ever since the movie came out On Demand toward the beginning of the pandemic.

But the new grandmas don’t seem to mind her impromptu concert. They clap enthusiastically after she’s done, and Merri offers to take her to the grass on the back lanai to start working on her golf swing.

“She’s delightful,” Whitney tells me as we watch them walk away. “And so are you. I’m so happy for you and our Griffie!”

“Thanks,” I say, my stomach twisting with even more guilt. We’re selling this happy, reunited family stuff. But it’s all based on lies.

“Griffie was so messed up after what happened with his mom, poor guy. I thought he’d never trust in love enough to actually get married. But look at you two, back together again! Maybe he’ll even invite Elodie to the wedding.”

“Elodie?” I ask.

Whitney tilts her head. “His mother? Have you not talked about her?”

“Yes, but I thought his mother had passed,” I answer. A confused note creeps into my tone.

Whitney blanches. “He told you that? That she was dead?”

I desperately search my memory of the very little he said about her and answer, “He said she went home.”

“Oh no, what a misunderstanding!” Whitney’s worried expression gives way to a relieved laugh. “Griffie didn’t grow up in Tennessee. So you have to understand, when he says go home, he means it literally—it’s not a euphemism for death. You see, she went home to France, where she’s from, after accepting her music career here would never pan out.”