“Please, Mama, don’t make me tell you. You weren’t supposed to find out,” she pleads.
If it was about anything else, I wouldn’t pry because I would trust her to tell me the truth when she was ready.
But I can’t do that now.
“When did he tell you that?” I ask again.
A big, fat tear falls down her cheek. “He wrote us a letter.”
Us, meaning her, Christopher, and Marcus.
“What letter?”
Our heads turn toward the window at the same time when we hear the loud rumble of an engine coming up the drive. A Jeep pulls into the driveway, and Grant gets out.
Well, shit.
Standing up, I take Charlotte in my arms and wipe her face dry.
“Are you mad at me?” she asks in a tiny voice.
I don’t know what to be mad about since I haven’t read the letter Ryder wrote to them. And I’m probably blowing this all out of proportion. Ryder did a lot of things before he died. Tried to prepare us for when he was gone. He made videos for me to give our children on the day of every major life event: prom, graduation, their wedding day, the birth of their first child. He wanted them to know that he was always there, right beside them, celebrating every milestone with them from heaven.
“No, sweetheart. I’m not mad. And please don’t worry. Go enjoy your day with Grant. And talk to him. Don’t put it off.”
With a small sniffle, a smile blossoms across her face. “Enjoy your lunch date with Uncle Fallon.”
Yep. Instant belly swoop.
“Just lunch. Nothing special.”
“Anything can be special if you let it,” she replies, wise beyond her years.
Grant does a quick knock before walking inside. He and Nicholas have keys to the house, just like Ryder, Jayson, Julien, and I did when we were younger.
“Living room,” I call out.
Grant rounds the corner, and before he can get out a hello, Charlotte launches herself into his arms. Thankfully, the PDA goes no further than a quick, chaste kiss.
“Hey, Auntie Liz.”
Grant’s face turns three shades brighter than a ripe tomato when he sees my amused grin.
If Ryder and Knox had a love child, Grant would be the result. Light brown eyes, thick, dark hair, and dimples that pop when he smiles, just like Ryder. Mocha skin, lanky, muscular build, and a confident swagger like Knox.
“What are you two up to today?” I ask.
They look at each other.
“What do you want to do?” he asks Charlotte.
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?” she asks him in return.
This could go on forever.
“Be home for dinner at seven. And I’m using the ‘royal we,’” I tell them, including Grant in the dinner summons.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.
