Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
The best way to address a difficult situation is by jumping all in. My grandparents taught me that. It’s how they handled all of the bullshit that came up, be it in business or with their family.
I have no fucking idea if jumping all in is what is best here. I don’t know how to handle this, so I ease in slowly.
“Years ago, I had a pendant custom-made for my grandmother for her birthday.”
Greer smiles. “Of course you did. You were probably the perfect grandson.”
“There’s not a chance in hell that’s true.” I chuckle. “I did like buying my grandmother gifts, though. She appreciated them. They meant something to her.”
“What did the pendant look like?” she asks, her fingers trailing a slow path over my thigh.
I don’t brush away the contact because I need it. I look into her face so our eyes are locked because I want her to see how much she means to me. “It was a four-leaf clover charm.”
Her smile widens. “Like the one Olive wears?”
I bypass the direct question with an answer I hope softens the truth that’s about to come out of my mouth. “It had two diamonds on it. One for my brother and one for me.”
“That’s wild.” She scratches her upper lip. “You said you had it custom-made?”
“A jeweler in East Hampton took care of it for me,” I explain. “I had him engrave two letters on the back of it.”
She slides her hand from my thigh to her lap. It’s shaking. I want to reach out and grab it, but I don’t.
“An H and a J?” she whispers. “Was it an H and a J?”
“For my brother and me to remind my grandmother how lucky we were to be her grandsons.” I close my eyes briefly. “I knew when she saw it, she’d love it, but she never got the gift.”
She’s on her feet in an instant, moving to the left before stepping to the right. “Celia said H and J were the initials of the jewelry designer. She said she picked it up at a market in The Hamptons when she went there for a party weekend with some people she worked with.”
Standing, I swallow past the lump in my throat. “She took it out of the pocket of my jeans after we spent the night together.”
She lets out a loud bark of laughter while shaking her head. “You did not sleep with Celia. She wouldn’t have taken that from you.”
I stand stoically, aching to reach out to take her in my arms, but she’s walking backwards now, creating physical distance between us.
“I slept with Celia,” I say clearly. “We went to a hotel after meeting at a bar. We spent the night together without exchanging names. When I woke up, she was gone. The charm was gone, too. I had shown it to her at the bar. She said it was beautiful. I can’t say why, but she took it and the box it was in with her when she left, Greer.”
“That can’t be right,” she whispers. “Maybe you’re wrong.”
“I’m not.”
She rubs a hand across her forehead as tears drop onto her cheeks. “She got pregnant around that time, Holden. It can’t be. You’re not…”
“I’m Olive’s dad,” I say as tenderly as I can. “I believe with everything I am that Olive is our daughter.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
Greer
I fall back onto the couch because my legs don’t have the strength to hold me up. My entire world is spinning around me. None of this makes sense.
None of it.
Celia wasn’t a thief.
Looking up at Holden, I ask through a sob, “Do you want the pendant back?”
He sits next to me. “Fuck, no, Greer. No.”
My heart feels like it’s ricocheting around in my chest. I swear I can’t feel the floor beneath my feet, and there’s not enough air in the room to fill my lungs.
There’s another much more important question to be asked, but I can’t form the words. I can’t ask him if he’s going to take her away from me.
I glance down at my hands, willing logic to step into this so I can think clearly.
“I know you’ll want me to take a paternity test, “ he whispers. “We can arrange for that as soon as possible.”
He’s being logical. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s the one who knew that my Olive might be his biological daughter.
“When did you realize?” I ask quietly. “How long have you known that she could be yours?”
He tilts his chin up, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s going to correct me and say he is Olive’s father, not that he could be.
“When I saw the pendant around her neck the other night.” He taps his shoe on the floor. “The picture she showed me of you and Celia confirmed it.”
“It was a one-night stand,” I point out. “That doesn’t mean…”