Page 67 of Silver Fox's Secret Baby

“You’re right. I just want you to know I’m here for you. I care for you and your family.” I put my hands in my pockets to keep from touching even her shoulder. “We’re going to get through this.”

Harley smiles, the tiredness shining through her eyes. “I really hope you’re right.”

“Me too.”

We exchange a smile and then Harley slips past me toward the door. “We should get to the studio.”

“Right, yes, of course.”

We walk to the studio in silence, me a few steps behind her the whole way. Thank god her body is obscured by a flowy cornflower blue dress. Otherwise, I’d be staring even harder than I already am.

The entire interview goes by in a blur. I keep my head down, listening to Flick and Harley as they banter. Flick’s on his best behavior. I have to give him credit for that.

Something is different in Harley’s voice. Sure, I could chalk it up to what’s happening with her mother. But it’s something deeper. Like something has been unlocked inside her.

I wish I knew what it was. Because more than anything–and I mean anything–I wish I could be a part of her life.

However distant that may be.

21

HARLEY

“Your palm tree looks like a dick.”

I look at Amy beside me in horror. “What?”

She points her paintbrush toward the palm tree on my canvas. “You’ve placed the coconuts to look like balls.”

“Knowing Harley, that was on purpose,” Gillian says with a smug smile.

“Guys, please,” Dana says softly, focused on her canvas across the table.

“I’m just saying! It’s not a palm tree, it’s a peen!” Amy announces.

The five of us are having a paint-and-sip party for Amy’s twenty-fifth birthday, except the birthday girl is morechuggingthan sipping. I think she’s consumed an entire bottle of wine in just under two hours. I haven’t been much help there since obviously, I’m not drinking. And my sisters did not take kindly to my refusal.

“New meds,” I said when I was met with suspicious looks.

“Oh, what are you on?” Dana asked with genuine curiosity.

I stared at her and blinked. As a grief counselor, she can’t prescribe drugs, but she’s definitely familiar with them. “Zoloft.”

She nodded in understanding. Thank god for that.

“I think I’m finished,” I say, sticking my paintbrush into a cup of charcoal gray water.

“No, don’t let her get into your head,” Gillian says. “You’re doing great.”

I smile at her gratefully. Maybe I’ve been less confrontational. Maybe we’re all being nicer to each other since Mom showed up. Or maybe Gillian can sense what’s going on inside me in some subconscious, maternal way. Regardless, things with her have been easy for the first time in years. We may still rib each other, but it’s always followed up with a nicer comment afterward.

Beside me, Amy is going to town on her sunset sky, mixing colors together with reckless abandon. “Okay, now some pink and…” It looks more like a picture in a kid’s book than the example painting, which makes sense, obviously.

Across the table, Dana and Kira are near silent as they focus on perfecting their paintings. The class instructor has come over several times to compliment them, leaving Amy flustered and upset.

Then there’s Gillian and me. Just…going through the motions. I’ve been exhausted, now at the two-month mark of my secret-ish pregnancy. On top of all the stress of our mother not backing down from trying to talk to us and Dad trying toconvinceus to talk to her andGrantjust showing up! Unannounced! Or semi-unannounced.

I’d be lying if I said the idea of Grant accompanying Flick to his interview hadn’t crossed my mind.

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