Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,329

I’m not. Pro-choice is just that: I get to choose. It’s my body, which I’ve chosen to share with Grip, and we get to choose. Yes, the path we’re on is painful. To some, unnecessarily painful, but it’s what we’ve decided to do with this body. We have our reasons, and they’re just that: ours. I kept wondering how my mother could be so cold about her own granddaughter. Of course, it took Grip pointing out my mother’s fear for me to understand, noting that her concern for me far outweighed her feelings for this baby. She sees how hard it will be and doesn’t want me to go through what’s ahead.

“You and me, both, Mother,” I mutter.

The ceiling hasn’t changed, but my perspective has . . . some, enough to gather my emotions and go back out. I don’t get to see Dr. Hammond much, and I don’t want to spend the rest of the night in here brooding.

“I’m back.” I settle beside Grip, huddling under his shoulder and taking in his scent. When neither of them responds, I feel the heaviness weighing the air and note their somber faces. I know what they discussed while I was gone.

“You told him?” I ask Grip, vulnerability softening my voice.

We don’t tell everyone. It’s bad enough this shit cloud hangs over the next three months and dampens so many moments that should be reasons to celebrate. We don’t want to field everyone’s awkward questions and responses the whole time, and we also don’t trust everyone to understand.

“Yeah.” Grip scatters a few kisses along my hairline and squeezes my shoulder.

“I’m sorry this happened to you guys.” Iz grimaces. “Dammit, that came out wrong. I can’t believe I’m one of those awkward people who says stupid things at a time like this.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “We’ll be okay.”

I muster a smile to make him feel more at ease, something I find myself doing all the time lately once people know. I didn’t realize how much time and energy you expend making others feel better about how bad things are for you. Things are heavy enough without the burden of their discomfort and pity.

“I know you will. The two of you . . . you guys have something most people never find. My ex and I certainly didn’t have it.” Iz drops his eyes to his drink, rolling the tumbler between his palms before looking back up to split a glance between us. “I’ve never apologized for my views before you married, for the things I thought.”

A gruff laugh struggles past his lips. “The things I said to you, Grip.”

He shakes his head, self-derision twisting his expression.

“I thought I knew. I . . . assumed, I guess, assumed things about you, Bristol. You, too, Grip. You were right. I was no better than the people we call bigots, and I’m sorry. No one could look at the two of you and think your love is based on anything but . . . each other.”

It’s quiet for a moment. In that slice of silent space, I add Iz to my blessings column. That someone so set against us, after seeing us and knowing us, had a change of heart—that’s a little bit of a miracle, and right now, I’ll take every miracle I can get.

“Apology accepted.” Grip takes a sip of his drink. “I just have one question.”

“Sure. Go for it.” A degree of wariness enters Iz’s eyes, like Grip might challenge him on his past beliefs and the way he insulted us before, even if he didn’t think of it that way.

“Well now that you believe a Black man could legit fall for a woman who isn’t Black,” Grip says, “you gonna break Callie off or what?”

Iz’s eyes stretch wide and then crinkle at the corners with his smile and the laugh that booms from his throat.

“Motherfucker!” He slams his drink down on the glass table. “Technically, Callie is a woman of color, and what I tell you about sticking your nose in my bedroom?”

“As little action as you get, brother,” Grip says, a crooked smile on his full lips, “ain’t nothing to see in there.”

I sip my water and laugh while they rib each other mercilessly for the next hour, until sleep takes me hostage, like it always seems to these days. I don’t even stir until Grip removes my dress and panties. Even walking through this difficult time, Grip manages to make me feel sexy, wanted. He loves my body pregnant, and