“Plus, I was hoping you and I could talk,” I add softly, laying all my cards on the table. “About O2.”
He shifts again and looks toward the door. Like he’d rather eat bees than spend another moment here talking with me.
This is what I wanted. A true marriage of convenience, where the monster ignored me and let me fade back into side character mode. But a wave of rejection washes over me. Does he really think I’m too boring to talk to or even deal with now?
“Uh, sure, I guess.” He sounds about as enthusiastic as a cow selling burgers. “Just the coffee, though. I don’t do that other thing anymore.”
“Bacon and eggs?” I ask as I take his AudioNation mug out of the dishwasher. I don’t realize I’ve still got his coffee preferences memorized until I automatically add cream to his pour without a second thought.
“Breakfast,” he corrects, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Started intermittent fasting toward the beginning of the pandemic.”
I wince as I set his travel mug down in front of him and take a seat with my own cup of coffee. “So when you’re in the spotlight, you pretty much have to keep on changing up diets?”
“Yes, until you die,” he answers gravely. “It’s in the ‘I Wanna be Famous’ contract all us cut-up musicians have to sign with the devil. That dude freaking loves diets. I don’t know why.”
I nearly fall out at his unexpected joke. I forgot about that dry humor of his. How much he made me laugh during those two weeks at his dad’s cabin. How much we cracked each other up.
But then I remember everything that came after that…New Year’s Eve.
And those memories chase away the laughter.
So, I set my coffee aside and get straight to the point. “Listen, I need you to understand something about O2’s birth.”
He sets his coffee aside too. “I’m listening.”
I take a deep breath and start giving him the speech I’ve been practicing in my head all weekend. “We both know the circumstances around her conception. I made an out-of-character decision—quite a few out-of-character decisions. Decisions that could not be undone once my real character took back over. I was living in New York at the time, so I could have chosen a different path. But I chose not to end my pregnancy because of the mistake I made by pretending to be somebody I wasn’t.”
“You’re telling me Red was a mistake?” Griffin’s blue eyes darken, along with his expression. “That everything you did when you were pretending to be her was a mistake?”
“No, I’d never call conceiving our daughter a mistake,” I answer. “But you have no idea how alone I felt when I made the decision to keep O2. The event planning company I was interning at fired me when they found out I was pregnant. And I felt too ashamed to come home to my people but too much a stranger to let myself be a burden to anybody in New York. That’s why I named her after Olivia Glendaver—why I call my baby O2, even when my former boss isn’t around. That generous woman gave me everything I needed to survive when all I asked for was a job. And I truly do believe she was sent from heaven above to help me through.”
I feel a little weepy with gratitude, remembering everything that came after landing that miracle job. “I was so scared, though. So scared. And you need to understand that I count O2 being born healthy as the luckiest day of my life—especially considering all the mistakes that led to her conception. And I know you’re not religious, but when I held that beautiful baby in my arms, I promised God then and there that I would love her with everything I’ve got. That I would protect her with everything I’ve got.”
I pause, hoping that Griffin understands what I’m trying to say.
But he immediately goes on the defensive. “Are you kidding me? You’re spinning this sad story to me, but you didn’t have to be alone. I’m a goddamn music star, a Latham, and a Reaper. Whatever you needed, I could have provided. Anything! But you never gave me that chance. Why? Because you were trying to protect her from me? That’s bullshit.”
I’d cast myself in the role of above-it-all mother goddess when I imagined us having this talk. But his reaction sets my brain on fire.
How could he not see things from my point of view after what happened on New Year’s Eve? After he basically blackmailed me into marriage—
Okay, Bernice. Stop. Don’t go there.
I hold up my hands and reel myself back in from the tidal pool of resentment swirling inside of me. Yelling at Griffin will not help my little girl.
I re-calm my voice and just level with him. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly so interested in being a dad to O2. But if this is another game you’re playing, some challenge you’re trying to win to prove something to your brother or me, then you need to stop it right now. O2 is not a shiny guitar you can practice whenever you feel like it. She’s clever beyond her years, but she is a child. And she’s tough. But that doesn’t mean she won’t be hurt if you throw her away once you get bored, like you did with me.”