Page 109 of Barefoot Dreams
“Shit, I think I’m going to be an uncle.”
There might be some sniffling laughs involved after that and a second later I’m hightailing it out of the station and off to my mom’s attic.
I too have some secrets to share with my Birdy.
31
Not Dear Diary
Griffin – Age 15
Can I tell you a secret?
I think I’m in love with my best friend’s little sister…
What the hell do I do with that?
32
Julie
“Normal is not something to aspire to, it’s something to get away from.” – Jodie Foster
It hasn’t even been twenty minutes before I see those broad shoulders, clad in a white—and thankfully dry—T-shirt climbing up the small hill toward my garden on Jacob’s property.
But it’s not just him, he’s also carrying a big box of something and judging by the strain of his arms, that something is heavy. Yet when I look at his face, he’s smiling so wide and so bright, if I wasn’t already pregnant, I sure would be now.
And he’s barefoot. Just like I am.
I wasn’t sure what his reaction to the news would be, coupled with Callum’s sudden appearance, and I was downright terrified but when I felt his palm against my stomach, splayed over our baby, all fears vanished.
“Hi, Birdy. I missed you.” Griff’s smooth voice washes over me as he sets the box down and leans in for a kiss that’s meant to be just a peck but never is with us.
“Hi,” I answer, my flushed face giving away what his kisses always do to me.
In hindsight, there’s no way we wouldn’t make a baby sooner or later with this chemistry.
“You just saw me not twenty minutes ago.”
“Twenty minutes too long.” Griff bends down, laying a lingering kiss on my stomach on my heart flutters, washing over with a new layer of love for this man I didn’t know I could feel. “Hi, baby,” he says to it. “It’s Daddy here. You probably can’t hear me yet and I look like an idiot talking to your mommy’s stomach, but I need you to know how much I already love you and I just found out about you! So just brace yourself for what awaits you when you come out, okay?”
I laugh as tears fall down my cheeks and I brush my fingers against Griffin’s hair.
“What’s wrong? Why are you crying, little J? Does something hurt?” Griffin starts patting and prodding me, and I laugh some more teary laughs.
“No, nothing hurts. My heart is just too full, and my emotions are way too haywire right now.”
Griffin winces. “Hm, maybe I should show you these some other time.”
“Show me what?” I ask, and he shifts, flipping open the top of the box.
There, in the heavy duty box, lie what looks like dozens of journals. Black, leather-bound, old, and worn and each one has a sticky note stuck to the front of them, with a number scribbled on it. From one to twenty-seven. Plus, the green one.
I gasp, my fingertips trapping the air between my lips.
“Is that? Are those?”
“My diaries?” Griffin asks, one corner of his lips tipped up. “Yeah.”
