In an effort to seem less controlling than everyone at the table was making her appear, she gave a stiff nod and said, “Sure. I’ll just have a couple of bites of whatever you get.”
“We’ll take the sampler platter and the rib combo plate.” Grant handed the menu to the server.
“I’d rather have the chicken,” she said, then snapped her mouth closed because she’d just proved them all right. “But the ribs are good.”
“Apparently, we’ll take the chicken and rib platter instead,” Grant said to the waiter.
“And what would you like for your three sides?” the man asked.
“How about the barbecue beans,” Grant started but Rebekah couldn’t keep from scrunching her nose. “Make that the macaroni and cheese.” He looked at her. “Do you like coleslaw?”
“I’d rather have the wedge salad. And their onion rings are really great. Maybe some more French fries since Angus ate all of mine earlier?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to get two meals, after all?” the server asked.
Rebekah realized she hadn’t been sure of anything for a long time.
* * *
Grant knew that Rebekah was anxious as hell, because he could feel her leg nervously fidgeting beside his all through the meal. But he was actually enjoying his dinner with Mike and Sheila Taylor. They were full of stories about their daughter and they asked all the hard questions that Rebekah had been avoiding until now.
“So do you plan to stay home from work for a while after the twins get here? Or are you looking into childcare and nannies?” Mike Taylor asked as he slipped a piece of brisket to Angus under the table.
The dog’s manners were going to be atrocious after all the dining excursions today, but Grant wasn’t about to say anything that would distract Rebekah from her father’s question.
“We haven’t decided that yet,” she said before polishing off a piece of cornbread. If Grant had a dollar for every time she’d given that same response, he could pay the nanny’s first week’s salary. If they decided to go with a nanny.
“Grant, are you okay with Rebekah going back to work full-time?” Sheila asked and Grant gave Rebekah a sideways glance.
“Obviously, I’m okay with whatever makes Rebekah happy.”
“Good. That was a trick question.” Sheila nodded at him before turning to her daughter. “Although, if you can take some time off to bond with the twins at first, that would be ideal.”
“Mom, you know I’m not very good with babies,” Rebekah admitted. Grant leaned back in his chair to carefully listen to this new revelation that explained at least some of why Rebekah had been so uneasy discussing the pregnancy.
“That’s crazy,” her dad said. “Anybody can handle a baby.”
“Really?” Rebekah drew back her chin in disbelief. “You know all those babies you guys fostered? Did I ever interact with any of them?”
Her mom folded her hands together, giving Grant the impression that the woman was ready to get down to business. “You did with Janelle.”
“Who?” Rebekah asked, a frown line forming above her nose.
“You might not remember her because you were so young when she left,” Mike said, then exchanged a glance with Sheila, who gave him a nod of encouragement. “Dimples, when you were two years old, you started asking for a little brother or sister. That’s all you wanted for Christmas, for your birthday, for Valentine’s Day. Your mom and I tried to conceive, but no luck. I mean, we really, really tried. Every morning and night we were at it. Babe, remember that lovemaking schedule—”
Rebekah covered her ears. “Gross, Dad. Nobody wants to hear about you guys and your schedule.”
“Anyway, when we realized that we couldn’t conceive, we started seriously talking about all the other options. We researched adoption and filled out questionnaires and talked to attorneys and social workers and decided fostering was the way to go. Janelle was the first baby we brought home from the hospital. You were four years old and you loved her like crazy. You thought she was your own baby. We had her for six months and then got the call that the court was going to start the reunification process with her biological family. When she left, you were absolutely inconsolable.”
Sheila reached across the table to pat Rebekah’s hand. “Initially, we were planning to give you time to get over Janelle’s leaving, but the agency called us the next week and needed an emergency foster for just a few days. When we brought that baby home, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. In fact, after Janelle left, you stopped playing with your dolls and even your stuffed animals altogether.”
“I don’t remember any of this,” Rebekah said, her forehead creased in confusion. Grant’s hand returned to the back of her neck and he stroked the tight muscles underneath the skin, finally understanding why Rebekah had been so apprehensive about motherhood.
“You were very young,” Sheila reminded her. “But ever since then, you’ve always stayed away from babies and smaller kids. You even stayed away from animals, which was why we were so happy to find out that you’d taken the job at Furever Paws. We were hoping you were coming around.”
Mike clapped his palms together. “And now here you are, pregnant and fostering a dog of your own. When it rains, it pours.”
* * *
Rebekah sat at the table, numbly nodding her head at her parents as Grant paid the check and then made plans to see them again in a couple of weeks. She was sure there’d been some talk of double strollers and ultrasound appointments, but she’d been lost in her own memories, Grant’s reassuring hand along her spine the only thing that kept her grounded in the present.
“Are you feeling okay?” Grant asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat ten minutes later. When he’d opened the passenger door for Rebekah, Angus had decided to jump up onto her lap instead of claiming the back seat. “It’s like the dog senses something’s wrong and he’s trying to console you.”
“He probably has a bellyache from all that brisket my dad was feeding him under the table,” Rebekah reasoned, even though Angus’s black eyes were studying her intently, as though he was looking for some sort of sign that everything would be okay. She stroked the dog’s back. “Let’s get you home, boy.”
“Rebekah, I’m not starting the car until you tell me what’s bugging you. You mentally checked out toward the end of dinner and I can’t make it better if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Who says you need to make me feel better? I don’t need fixing.”
“I’m a fixer. A saver. It’s what I do. Now, I’ve learned to tell when you’re mad, when you’re annoyed and when you’re legitimately busy with work.” Grant’s chest expanded with his deep breath. “As opposed to when you’re just faking being busy with work to get out of talking to me.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his palm. “Hold on. I’ve also learned when you’re flustered, and I’ve learned when you’re overwhelmed and scared about something. Right now, you’re clearly scared. So let me help.”
“It’s not something you can help with. You heard my parents. I’m not a baby person. Yet, here I am, having two of them.”
“I believe you were the one who claimed you aren’t a baby person and your father said that was crazy.”
“But then they told that story about how I wanted nothing to do with the other babies. What if the twins get here and I feel the same way?”
“Rebekah.” Grant lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. “You were a child when that happened. It was a defense mechanism because you’d already lost someone close to you and didn’t want to go through that heartache again. But our kids aren’t going anywhere.”
“What if something happens to them, though?” She could feel the wetness at the corners of her eyes and tried to blink back the tears.
“Is this about the pregnancy you lost?” He traced hi
s hand along her jaw and up to her ear so he could gently smooth the curls away from her face.
“Yes. I mean, no.” She couldn’t decide. “Maybe. When I got pregnant back then, it couldn’t have come at a worse time. I was still in business school and my boyfriend was adamant that he didn’t want kids. I’d been on the pill and never missed a day. But then I’d gotten strep throat and the antibiotics made the birth control ineffective. Trey accused me of getting pregnant on purpose, but I told him that I didn’t want a baby any more than he did. We had a huge fight and broke up. A few days later, I found out that the pregnancy wasn’t viable and, I know this sounds crazy, but all I could think before the laparoscopic procedure was that my baby had heard me say that I didn’t want it. And that’s why I...why I...” She couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Aww, sweetheart. You can’t blame yourself. Not for any of it.” He used the back of his hand to wipe the tears trailing down her cheeks and leaned his forehead against hers. “Is that why you keep referring to this pregnancy as you know? Because you don’t want the twins to hear us talking about them?”
“I guess. But also because I really am afraid that I won’t be the kind of mom they deserve.”
He pulled back and met her gaze. “Look at you with Angus. You’re going to be a great mom. You just need to get out of your own head.”
“I’ve only had Angus for twenty-four hours. And you’ve done half the work with him. What happens when it’s just me on my own?”
His hands moved to either side of her face, forcing her to look squarely at him. “That’s what I keep trying to tell you. It won’t be just you on your own. I’m not going anywhere, Rebekah.”
He kissed her damp cheeks, stopping one of the tears from going any farther. She almost believed him.
But then his cell phone rang.
Chapter Thirteen
Rebekah knew that if Bunny or Birdie had called Grant to come fix a leak in their roof, he would’ve been out the door in an instant. So when his mom had called him the previous evening about the leak in the surf shop, it was no surprise that he’d asked if he could drop off her and Angus so that he could get to the airport and catch a flight home that night.
She appreciated his dedication to his family, but didn’t they have roofers and plumbers in Jacksonville? Certainly Grant wasn’t the only one who could save the day.
“All I’m saying is that anytime things start getting too intense, he always has to fly back to Florida,” she told Angus as he whimpered by the front door as though he was waiting for Grant to walk through any minute. “I know. I’d probably run off, too, if my pregnant fake girlfriend was having an emotional breakdown in my car.”
Walking into her bedroom, she stubbed her toe on the corner of his carry-on suitcase, which was still open on her rug. She muffled a curse under her breath.
Angus made a low growl as his triangular ears perked up into points.
“You didn’t hear that,” she told the dog.
She wanted to pitch the whole suitcase and its contents out her front door, but then she’d have to look at the mess when she left tomorrow. Instead, she threw everything inside—trying not to inhale the scent of Grant on his clothing or remember how his bare skin smelled even better—and zipped it closed before shoving it into the hallway closet.
The guy had only spent a total of two nights here in the past few months, but already his absence was noticeable. As she climbed under the covers that evening, her bed suddenly felt way too huge, way too empty. How could she already miss something she’d never really had?
The following morning, she stared longingly at her coffee machine through half-lidded eyes rimmed with dark circles. A chocolate croissant would come in pretty handy right about now, but her car was still parked at Furever Paws. While she didn’t normally work on Saturdays, it was often one of the busiest days of the week for the shelter since that’s when they usually had families coming in for adoption events.
So she could either call an Uber to go get her car and possibly catch up on some of the work she’d missed yesterday, or she could sit around her townhome thinking about all those tear-filled emotions she’d unloaded on Grant last night.
She pulled up the Uber app on her phone and grabbed Angus’s leash off the entry table. “Looks like we’re going to work today, big guy.”
The dog was all tail wags and panting out the window for the ride to the shelter. But as soon as the driver pulled away, Angus was glued to her leg, cowering behind her. “Don’t be scared,” she told him. “I know you don’t have great memories of this parking lot, but I’m not going to leave you.”
He plopped himself on the gravel, and not wanting to drag him behind her, she scooped him up into her arms and carried him into the lobby.
“I thought I saw your car outside this morning,” Birdie said as she came from behind the reception desk. “Did Daddy drop you guys off?”
Rebekah stumbled in surprise and it wasn’t until Angus was licking at something in Birdie’s hand that she realized the older woman had been talking to the dog, not her.
She wanted to correct her boss and explain that Grant wasn’t the dog’s daddy. She wasn’t even the mommy, for that matter. But arguing at this point would only draw more attention. “No. Grant flew back to Florida last night.”
“That boy is always on the go. He’s a hard one to pin down.” Birdie didn’t need to tell Rebekah that. The woman made a tsking sound then continued, “You look exhausted, dear. Did the road trip to the bird sanctuary tire you out?”
Crap. With Grant taking off like that last night, it again fell to Rebekah to be the bearer of bad news and tell his aunts that their plans for saving birds wouldn’t work. “No. I just didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Having a new bundle of joy will do that to you,” Birdie said and Rebekah tried to suck in her stomach. “Did you keep Mommy up last night?” she asked, and Rebekah realized that the woman was again talking to the dog.
“He sure did.” Rebekah didn’t add that Angus had been up half the night whimpering at the door and then pacing the house looking for Grant. Sometime around midnight, she’d heard him wrestle something out from under the bed and saw that he’d found one of Grant’s T-shirts. He wouldn’t go to sleep until she pulled him—and the shirt—onto the bed with her. “Hopefully, he’ll nap in my office so that I can get some work done.”
“Is that the little gray dog?” Emma Alvarez asked as she walked through the lobby with her fiancé, Daniel Sutton, and their three girls. “He looks so much better.”
“Rebekah is fostering him,” Birdie explained.
“We had fosters,” Penny, the middle girl, said. “But they were kittens.”
“Four of them.” Pippa, the youngest girl, held up four fingers. “But now they’re gone.”
Something tugged at Rebekah’s heart. “You must miss them very much.”
“Kind of. But they have forever homes now.” Paris, the oldest daughter, sounded as though she was reminding her younger sisters of the positive outcome.
Pippa’s smile revealed a missing top tooth. “Emma and Daddy said we could come see the new cat room and maybe pick out some more foster kittens that need us.”
“Come on, guys,” Penny said, pulling on her father’s hand. When the family walked away, Rebekah stood there staring at them.
“Sweet family, huh?” Birdie said and Rebekah nearly jumped because she hadn’t realized she’d been caught gawking.
“Very sweet. But I was just thinking that it must be very difficult for kids to foster—to bring a pet into their family and then later have to let go of something they love so much.”
“It isn’t exactly easy for the adults, either.” The older woman patted her shoulder. “You just take a little piece of that animal along with you. It’s amazing how much love your heart can accommodate once you decide to open it up.�
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Birdie walked away, probably intending to leave Rebekah thinking about that cryptic statement all day. Instead, all her mind could focus on was the older woman’s earlier words about Grant being a hard one to pin down.
* * *
“Can I ask you a question, Mom?” Grant dumped the last bucket of collected rainwater into the industrial sink in the board-shaping room. A crew of workers was on the surf shop’s roof above them, pounding new shingles into place.
His mother leaned against the push broom she’d been using to sweep up the wet plaster from last night’s leak. “What’s up, kiddo?”
Lana Whitaker was a slight five foot two, and in her denim cutoffs, Costa Rica Surf Tours T-shirt and bleached-blond hair pulled into low pigtails, she didn’t look old enough to be calling anyone kiddo.
“What are your thoughts on Uncle Gator?”
“Your dad’s brother?” she asked. “He means well, I guess, but he can come off a little condescending at times.”
“Do you think he might be the one responsible for Aunt Bunny and Aunt Birdie having financial issues?”
“Oh, no. I’m staying out of that mess. I learned long ago not to get involved in anything that has to do with Whitaker Acres. I love your aunts like they’re my own sisters, but when it comes to that property and what everyone did with their shares, I’m keeping my mouth shut.”
“Oh, come on, Mom. Can’t you just give me a little insight about your early years with dad’s side of the family? I’m sure he’d tell me himself if he were still alive.”
“My sweet Moose.” His mom lowered her eyes and Grant immediately felt remorse wash through him.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel sad.”
“No, you’re right. Your dad’s heart was the biggest thing about him.” That was certainly saying something, since Moose had been six foot three and required a custom longboard to accommodate his 250-pound frame. But Grant knew his mom was right. She continued, “He hated it that Gator never seemed to get over Moose’s choice to sell off his shares of the family property to move to Florida.”
It Started with a Pregnancy Page 14
