and maybe I am. What is it they say, you reap what you sow? I deserve this. I deserve to be alone with this. I am not your responsibility.”
“This isn’t just about you, Gracie. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I’m thirty-three years old, and I’ve never been in love. I’ve come to believe”—he hesitates—“that I’m unable to fall in love. I’m not hardwired for it. I’m too analytical, too inhibited. There is some part of me that can’t let go in the way that’s necessary to feel that depth of emotion.” Grayson kicks at the cement walkway. “But I still want to experience life. I want to have a family. I want to experience marriage. The problem is, I don’t know that many, or even one, woman who would be willing to marry me on my terms. After all, I make a good living, but I’m not a millionaire. I work all the time. I don’t have anything else to offer. A decent paycheck and no chance at true love isn’t much of a deal.”
I can hear that Grayson is telling the truth. His wiry runner’s body is bent toward me, willing me to hear him. I shake my head in amazement. “But you’re saying that deal is good enough for me?”
I wonder how this could happen, that as Gram turns away from me, Grayson steps forward. The father of my first baby, the one I threw away, is offering to play father to my second. Is this how it’s supposed to be? Am I supposed to take help no matter who’s offering it and no matter what form it arrives in?
“I care about you, Gracie, as much as I care about anyone. I would even say that I love you. And I can say that with some truth, because, unlike most people, I’ve pushed my way past the front door in your life. When we stopped sleeping together, I made sure we became friends.”
“You don’t even like me half the time.” I wipe my cheeks dry with my hands. “You don’t approve of the way I make decisions. You don’t approve of this baby.”
“I have nothing against the baby, Gracie. I will love the baby, I’m sure. I want to be its father. That’s part of my proposal. We have a lot to offer each other. I can steady you, and keep you on an even keel. I can help you make decisions. And you and the baby can give me a life I would have no access to otherwise. We’ll be meeting each other halfway. I see a lot of positives.”
I lean back against the step. My back aches and I have to pee. The baby is sitting on top of my bladder. “I don’t think so, Grayson. I think we both deserve better.”
“This is better,” he says. “And I can convince you of that.”
“This is not some editorial for you to push your opinion at people. You’re talking about our lives.”
He nods. “Just let me ask you one critical question. One question, all right?”
“All right.”
“Do you know who you are, Gracie?”
I stare up at him, my insides suddenly as silent and glassy as a lake at midnight. Past and future tears clog up my throat. The McLaughlin in me seals my lips. All I can do is stare. He knows my answer. He knows exactly what he is doing.
Grayson speaks slowly now. He gives weight to each word, closing in for the kill. “I know who you are, Gracie. And I promise that as your husband I will teach you.” He pauses. “Don’t you think it’s important for your baby to have a mother who knows herself?”
The baby. This frees my tongue. This gives me the only possible answer. The sound is almost a cry as it breaks out of my throat.
“Yes,” I say. “Yes.”
LILA
Gracie thinks I spend all of my time outside of the house with Weber, but that’s not completely true. I spend a lot of that time in the library, fighting the urge to see Weber. With no schoolwork to do, I have taken to writing letters. I sit in my favorite carrel on the third floor of the library. I write a few letters a week, then tear them up and throw them in the trash. It’s a new experience for me. I let go on the page, barely paying attention to what I write. When I’ve finished a letter, I feel cleaned out, lighter, better, at least for a few