Page 170 of Dream Girl
Grace frowned at the menu. “I just don’t know… oh.” Her eyes lit up. “Biscuits and gravy with a side of bacon.”
The server gathered our menus and scurried off.
“I remember that my dad used to make the best biscuits and gravy. Haven’t had that in ages,” she sighed. Polishing off her coffee, she held up her cup as the server came past.
“I know you loved your dad, but I never understood how he could let your mom be so awful to you. If I had kids, I wouldn’t let anyone harm them, let alone my spouse.” Wes pushed the cup of water toward her. “Do you know why? Is that something you remember?”
“Yeah.” She poked at the ice in the water cup with her straw. “For a long time, I didn’t either. After my mom disowned me, he divorced her. Made her and my brothers hate me even more. Anyhow, he apologized to me.”
The server put a pot of coffee on the table.
“He did?” Wes asked.
“He did.” Grace refilled her mug. “Then he explained why he hadn’t stood up for me as much as I wanted him to.”
“What was his reason? Because I would have left her when she sent you to camp and gotten your ass out of there,” Wes said.
“He tried to get me and wasn’t allowed by the camp. He was against all of it. The drugs. The holds. The dumb church doctors. The essential oils. Saying I wastroubled.But…” Grace chewed on her lower lip as she added sugar to her coffee. “He wasn’t my dad. All my life I had no idea that he wasn’t my biological father. He’s the dad of my brothers, but not me. I was a baby when he met my mom. I guess my mom always pulled theYou’re not her real dad, you don’t get a saycard. He apologized for not having done more to protect me.”
Shit.
Wes pulled her to him. “Wow.”
“I had no idea. That’s why he was mostly reactive–getting me my blankets back when she was at Bible study, making my favorite foods after we had a nasty fight, cheering me up with dad jokes.” Her body shuddered as she sighed.
“Did you ever contact your biological father? Do you remember that?” I asked quietly, scooting closer to her, wanting to soothe her, too.
She shook her head. “My dad didn’t know who he was. Asking her meant talking to her. I was too slammed working and going to school, and I just didn’t have time for daddy drama on top of everything else I was trying to work through. His identity died with her, and I’m okay with that. My dad is my dad, and I forgave him for not doing more–especially when I found out all the ways he tried and failed to help me.”
So much to unpack there. My heart ached for her.
“I’m going to hit the bathroom before our food comes.” She crawled over Wes and left the booth.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” Wes told me, taking a sip of his iced coffee.
“Me neither.Ifyou had kids?” I kept my voice quiet, but it bothered me, and I needed to address it. “When did we go back toif?”
That hurt. I was in my thirties, and I wanted kids sooner rather than later.
Wes put his arm around me. “I was trying not to spook Grace. She’s not ready yet–and she’s afraid she won’t be a good mom. I also don’t want her to think that we only see her value to our all-dude pack in being that she has a baby factory.”
“Oh, okay.” Relief filled me. “She’s just starting her career. I can respect that. Don’t worry, I’ll reassure her that everything is entirely her choice. I don’t think she’s gotten to that unit yet.”
Wes blinked. “You will?”
“Of course. I’ve given that talk a million times. Because of that whole ingrained attitude about female omegas being made to give male alphas babies.” I rolled my eyes. “Also, she doesn’t have to have them. There are other ways.”
Which we’d looked into, since while there’d been a couple miracle births in the past couple decades, most male omegas couldn’t carry children–me included.
“We will get kids, eventually.” Wes squeezed me.
“How? Cabbage patch?” Grace said, frowning as she squeezed between us. “I messed up the kid timeline, didn’t I?”
“No. Not one bit. We didn’t have a kid timeline,” Wes assured her.
“He’s right. I want a kid or three. But I want you to know you don’t have to carry kids if you don’t want to. I’m not sure ifcabbage patchmeans adoption but that’s what we were looking at. You know, with six adults in the house, you wouldn’t have more responsibilities than you want.” I took a sip of my drink, putting my arm around her.
“Three?” She looked up at me and shook her head. “I vote for two kids, three-to-four years apart, one boy, one girl.”
