I had plans to tell Grace, but the timing was always off. My mother and her timing might have been worse. But life as a single parent was messy, and if Grace couldn’t handle it, then I wasn’t sure how this would work even without introducing her to Noelle.
Not to mention, Grace came with secrets of her own. I hoped she, out of anybody, would understand my reasoning. I respected her wishes to not research her past. I had listened to whatever she shared with me thus far, but I wasn’t going to pry.
As a Cheshire cat smile graced Grace’s lips, I knew I had to brace myself for an inquisition of sorts. I grabbed my wineglass and chugged a healthy sip, preparing myself for this can of worms.
“You’re a DILF.” Grace laughed, practically doubling over the table before my eyebrow arched as I gave her a moment to compose herself.
I pursed my lips, an attempt to hide my own amusement. Relief rushed over me at her joke.
“Why didn’t you tell me you have a daughter?” she blurted.
I practically choked on my wine. My eyes widened comically, and my coughing morphed into laughter as I tried to clear my throat. What a shitshow this night was turning into.
“You can’t expect me not to ask anything about her. I mean, that was a pretty big bomb your mom dropped,” she reasoned, not giving me any time to recover.
I pressed my lips into a flat line and set down the glass. Reaching across the table, I took Grace’s hand in my own and nodded. “I was waiting to see how long it would take for you to bring it up.” I smirked, attempting to lighten the mood. “Honestly … I wanted to get to know you—the real you. Maybe I should’ve said something, but it never felt like the right time. You have to understand something: I’m all she has, so I’m extremely protective of her, of this life we’ve created. It’s not easy for me to let people in either, you know.” I sighed and shrugged. “I’ve been enjoying our time together, and it would’ve been something that came up eventually—my mother just happened to beat me to it, it seems.”
“I can understand that, and I’m enjoying getting to know you too. Would you tell me about her? Whatever you feel comfortable sharing,” Grace quickly added, her smile soft and easy. “Oh, wait. Your mom said her name is Noelle. Does she happen to have long, brown hair? I think I remember seeing her with Jena at the coffee shop like two weeks ago.”
“Yup, that’s her.” I locked eyes with her for a moment before I turned away and smiled to myself. “Noelle is almost ten yearsold and the light of my life.” I beamed with pride just at the thought of my little girl.
“I did the community college thing here in Grand Haven.” I chanced a glance at Grace, who was hanging on to my every word. “My father left me a small trust fund and I had no idea what to do with it.” I rolled my eyes, unable to hide the disgust I felt when I thought of my sperm donor.
Once I recovered, I spoke again. “Owen encouraged me to take a business course at NYU, saying I needed to make something of myself. I got close with him when Nicky took me to Bar on my twenty-first. We became friendly, and you didn’t argue with Owen, so I enrolled and that’s where I met Roxy, Noelle’s mom.”
Grace nodded so I continued. “We’d hang out, and eventually, one thing led to another and we sorta fell into being a couple. After a few years together, she found out she was pregnant. We were on-again, off-again and it was hard to navigate where to live. But it was never an option to not stand by her—even if it wasn’t this big love story between us. It was just companionship for both of us during a crossroads in our lives.
“We moved into my mother’s house. Roxy was resentful about leaving the city and a big job offer on Wall Street. Noelle was born on Christmas Day during a huge snowstorm. Shitty weather but the best day. I was over the moon. I worked my ass off to support my new family, hoping it would be enough for Roxy. Turns out it wasn’t, and she was gone by the time Noelle was six months old. She said she ‘couldn’t take it anymore.’”
Roxy and I hadn’t been in love with each other. It was lust and the excitement of being “adults” in the big city that bonded us. It was young and immature at best. But it led me to the most wonderful person—Noelle. I could never imagine my life without her.
She was my whole life. Some people thought life ended when they had children. I’d argue that my life started when Noelle was born.
I took another sip of my wine, and Grace was silent, her gaze following my movements. I was grateful that she let me tell her my story at my pace. We seemed to be on the same page with how we operated.
My thumb stroked over the back of Grace’s hand, which was still clasped in my own.
“Mom’s from Grand Haven, born and raised. She’s always had a passion for art, so she took a job as a curator and commuted to the city a few times a month while she continued to paint. While in the city, she met my father. He was older and came from money. Old money. Penthouses, country clubs, Ivy League schools, and all the bullshit in between.” My eyes widened as I realized what I had muttered.
Slowly, I met her eyes and took in Grace’s amused expression. “No offense,” I mumbled sheepishly.
Thankfully, Grace shook her head and gestured with her hand for me to continue.
“Once my mom found out she was pregnant, my dad dropped out of her life without so much as a backward glance. She didn’t come from a family of means and couldn’t afford the city. Her folks were broke and barely made ends meet so we moved up here. She worked two jobs, sometimes three, not to burden them. The town became family. Fiona babysat me and so did Ms. Kenzie from the coffee shop. Mom struggled so much raising me.” I closed my eyes and shook my head.
“Like a little family,” she murmured.
I met her warm eyes and gave her a small smile. I pointed to the gallery wall with my free hand. “That painting you love so much was featured in one of my mom’s shows. It was a ‘mini’series that showcased all young and aspiring artists. Noelle painted it.”
Grace’s head whipped to look at it. “That’s incredible!” She gasped, yanking her hand away to cover her mouth. “Noelle is one talented little girl. Like father, like daughter.” Grace’s cheeks were beet red before she muttered, “Where the hell is my etiquette?”
I chuckled, as she proceeded to repeat “I’m sorry” over and over again.
“Stop apologizing,” I said with an amused expression.
“I’m sorry,” Grace emphasized and grabbed my hand once more. I gave her a pointed look about apologizing and laced our fingers together, resting them on the table between us.
“It must have been hard,” Grace started. “Doing it all by yourself.”
