I forced myself to unpack. At the top of the case was my notebook—the one filled with children’s story ideas. The nanny and the boy. Adventures and mischief. Little life lessons tucked between the lines. A father appeared like a shadow in the background, always distant.
I paused. Did that hurt Griffin when he saw these, like a bystander in his son’s story? Or was I reflecting my own story, of life without a father around?
I sat on the edge of the bed and started sketching anew without thinking. Griffin’s sharp jaw appeared. Then his restless eyes, more loving when they looked at Theo. Little moments a father and son shared, like kneeling to tie his shoe. The man I wished he’d let himself be.
God, I missed him.
Not the billionaire with contracts and walls twelve feet high. But the man who kissed me and held me at night like I was his entire world.
I kept drawing until my hand cramped. After I looked them over, on a whim, I snapped pictures of my best ones and opened my email before I could overthink it.
To: Richard Buchanan
Subject: Inquiry — Children’s Book Illustrations
Hi Richard,
I know this is out of the blue. But you mentioned once that you knew people in publishing. I wondered if any of them might be willing to look at beginner work.
I’m attaching a few samples.
If you know anyone who might be interested, I’d be grateful. If not, I understand.
Thank you for your kindness to me.
Best,
Jessa
I attached the photos and hit send quickly before I could lose my nerve.
If nothing else came of this, my stories were helping me be brave again.
I finished unpacking, but the last thing I pulled out from the suitcase was one of Griffin’s Brioni shirts—a crisp white button-down I’d “borrowed” and never returned.
I brought to my nose and in haled the scent of cedar, bergamot, wealth, and power. I should’ve left it behind. Instead, I tugged it on. For a moment, he was here with me, the shirt like one of his hugs.
On that note, with wet eyes, I climbed into bed and curled on my side, one hand on my stomach as had become my habit. According to a pregnancy app I found, the baby was the size of a plum this week.
“Hey, little plum,” I whispered into the darkness. “Or plumber, if you’re a boy.”
A shaky laugh escaped me. Plum was cute, but if it was a girl I already had a name picked out. Holly—because Griffin and I created her one special night in Holly Creek. Holly West had anice ring to it. If a boy, well, I thought Theo could help there, as long as he didn’t want to name it after his frog. But naming the baby was an issue to face down the road, not tonight.
“We’ll make it, you and me. Even without a man like Griffin.” I swallowed hard. “Because it turns out… we’re stronger than this. Stronger than everything.”
I rubbed gentle circles on my belly.
“You’re going to be so loved. I promise you that. Even if it’s just me loving you, that’s going to be enough. It has to be.”
As I said the words, the ache in my chest multiplied. Because I’d wanted things to be different, to have Theo’s laughter and Griffin’s love and a family that actually belonged to each other.
I’d wanted the fairy tale.
Chapter Twenty-Three
ENOUGH
Griffin
