Worth More Than Money (Worth It 3)

“There you two are,” Gray said.

He came up and kissed me on the cheek before he peered over my shoulder.

“How did Anton do today?” he asked.

“A little fussy. He’s still really gassy. I think it must be something I’m eating. I’m worried he’s got a food intolerance,” I said.

“Well, we cut out dairy and it’s been two weeks. Have we tried eggs?” he asked.

“We haven’t cut out eggs, no. But I’m concerned enough that I think we should take him back to the doctor.”

“Okay. Whatever Momma feels is better is what we’ll do. I know you’ve been struggling with the constant change in diet. Let me get on the phone with the doctor and I’ll get us an appointment for tomorrow, okay?”

“Don’t be so hard on him this time,” I said, as I turned around. “I think you scared him a little the last time.”

“All I wanted was for him to be on time. He was thirty minutes late to our appointment,” he said.

“Be nice,” I said.

“If you insist,” he said with a grin.

I watched my husband pull out his cell phone and dial Anton’s pediatrician. The love he had for his son was astounding to me. I watched him go to war on more than one occasion with our pediatrician because he didn’t feel the examination had been enough. Or he didn’t feel that my concerns were fully being heard. Or he felt something else was going on with our son. My entire pregnancy, he had been petrified of being a terrible father. Of turning out like his father rather than being the father he wanted to be.

And with each passing day, he affirmed again the reason I wanted so many children with him.

When we figured out we were having a boy, the name was almost a no-brainer. For me, naming our son Anton was a way of carrying on the man’s legacy. A man that linked Gray and I together before we ever met. In many respects, I owed my entire relationship to Anton. Because without the connection to him, I never would’ve thought to go to his house that night. Instead of stumbling into bed practically naked with a strange man lying in it already, I would’ve packed up my stuff and slept on the street. Or possibly headed home prematurely.

Gray and I never would have met had it not been for our relationships with Anton Volk.

I carried on Anton’s legacy with our son, but Gray carried on his legacy in Stillsville as well. He ended up donating Anton’s house to the non-profit instead of selling it to them. They had turned it into a senior home that was now providing services to the city of Stillsville. Not only were they taking in the elderly, but they were taking homebound visits. Traveling to those in the city that needed care but couldn’t get to a doctor. They even linked up with Dr. Luke to more services at better prices for th

e community.

But that wasn’t all Gray had done.

Donating Anton’s property was the first of many transformations I’d seen in my husband. As I stood there with our son in my arms watching him go back and forth with the nurse at the front desk of our pediatrician, I thought about all that had changed. Gray had taken it upon himself to continue donating regularly to the charities that Anton had laid out in his will. Quarterly donations, to be exact. And he was in the throes of coming up with vintage wines that were linked specifically to those charities. Where a portion of the money paid for the bottle of wine was guaranteed to go to that charity.

I told him it was a sound business move, and it was the first time I ever heard Gray say that it had nothing to do with business.

That day I saw a change in him. A desire to become a better man. And I attributed it all to his therapy. Halfway through my pregnancy, the two of us had gotten into a huge fight. So huge, in fact, that it sent me to the hospital because the stress of the situation skyrocketed my blood pressure. It was in that moment as I laid there in that hospital bed that Gray promised to get help. He promised to seek out a therapist he could talk to in order to sort through his anger and trust issues.

And it had turned him into a completely different person. Unlocking the person inside he’d never believed he could be.

“All right,” Gray said. “I’ve got Anton an appointment tomorrow just before lunch. I figured we could go, get him checked out, make sure things are okay, then get something to eat in town.”

“That sounds great,” I said, with a smile.

Then I felt Anton stir in my arms.

“Here, let me help with that,” he said.

Anton squirmed around as Gray came up behind me. He helped slide my robe off and cupped my swollen breast, helping to guide my nipple between our son’s lips. He held me close, cradling his arm underneath mine to give more support to our son’s head.

He rested his chin against my shoulder as I leaned my head against his.

“Have you heard from Andy lately?” I asked.

“Early this morning, actually. He called to let me know that the newest batch of wine is going to be a little behind schedule. It’s not quite up to temperature yet, so the flavor hasn’t started to mutate yet.”