Inappropriate - Vi Keeland Page 0,96
be manic, and that, coupled with severe postpartum depression, made her do something unthinkable, but you don’t need to agree with me in order to find forgiveness. Forgiveness doesn’t excuse Lily’s behavior. Forgiveness allows that behavior to not destroy your heart anymore.”
I tasted salt in the back of my mouth. I’d cried enough in the last seven years; I wasn’t about to sit in the same building my ex-wife breathed in and shed any more tears. I cleared my throat, hoping to swallow my emotions.
“I know you mean well, Doc. And I appreciate it. I really do… But Lily doesn’t deserve forgiveness.” I shook my head. “I should really get going. Thanks for the coffee and Tylenol.”
I stood and extended my hand to Dr. Booth. When he clasped mine, he again looked into my eyes. “I don’t think you want to forgive Lily. I think you want to forgive yourself. You did nothing wrong, Grant. Give yourself that forgiveness and move on. Sometimes people don’t allow themselves to forgive because they’re afraid they’ll forget—forgive and forget. But you’ll never forget Leilani. You just need to realize there’s room in your heart for more than one person again.”
“Tell her to stop writing the letters, Doc.”
Chapter 35
* * *
Ireland
Almost two weeks had passed, and yet it felt like a year.
Between my construction and work, I had enough to keep me busy. But every time I passed the exit that led to the marina where Grant lived, it felt like ripping a Band-Aid off of a fresh wound.
It was Saturday afternoon, and Mia and I were meeting for lunch at our favorite Greek restaurant. I’d gotten caught in traffic, so I arrived a few minutes late, and she’d already gotten a table.
“Hey.” I slid into the booth across from her.
Her face wrinkled up when she looked at me. “Did you come from the gym?”
“No. Why?”
Mia frowned. “No offense, but you sort of look like shit.”
I sighed. “I didn’t feel like doing my hair. I thought the messy bun was still in?”
“It is. But yours looks more like a rat’s nest. And your shirt has a giant stain on it, and either you have black eyes coming in or you didn’t get all of yesterday’s makeup off.”
I looked down at my sweatshirt. Sure enough, there was a giant, round spot. I rubbed at it. “I had a container of Ben & Jerry’s for dinner last night. I missed my mouth a few times.”
Mia raised a brow. “So you slept in that shirt?”
“Shut up. I’ve seen you wear the same outfit for days when you’re sick.”
“That’s because I’m sick. Are you?”
“No.”
She made yet another disapproving face. “I take it you still haven’t heard from Grant?”
My shoulders slumped. “No.”
Mia shook her head. “I can’t believe he turned out to be such a piece of shit.”
“He’s not a piece of shit. He just…really didn’t want children.”
“Yes. And five years ago, I didn’t ever want to get married. I really didn’t want my mom to die at fifty-nine last year either. This is life. We do our best to live it, but we can’t be in control of everything.”
“I know. But having children is something we can control.”
“Did you take all of your pills?”
“Yes.”
“Did Grant wear a condom every time you had sex?”
“Yes.”
“Then obviously there are times we can’t control it. Nothing in life is foolproof.”
“I know. But he has a good reason for being upset.” A few days after Grant walked out, I’d unloaded everything on Mia—from my pregnancy to the reason I’d found out he didn’t want children.
“Of course he does. He’s experienced an unthinkable trauma. I understand that. So he deserved a little time to be shocked and upset, but it’s been almost two weeks now. What is he going to do? Pretend he doesn’t have a child and this entire thing doesn’t exist?”
I’d been wondering the same thing lately. The first few days he didn’t call or come by, I understood why he was upset. But at what point did he plan on dealing with the reality of our situation? I’d been so certain he’d come around…even if he didn’t want to be with me or want to be involved with this baby’s life. I thought he would at least own up to it and we’d talk. But the past few days, I’d started to lose the last shred of confidence in him. Hence the ice cream dinners.
“Can we just…not talk about it today? I need a day off from dealing with everything. Let’s