“Yes ma’am.”
“Big house?”
“It’s... yes. It’s big.”
“How big?”
He paused mid-chew. “There’s an east wing.”
Grandma’s eyebrows went up. She looked at me. I shook my head:don’t.
“And what is it you do, exactly? Andrea said you run a company.”
“I do. An investment firm.”
“You any good at it?”
“I’d like to think so.”
“Humble too.” She sipped her coffee. “How long have you known my granddaughter?”
“A little over two years.”
“Two years.” She set the coffee down. “And in two years you never once thought to come meet the woman who raised her?”
He put his fork down. “No ma’am. I should have.”
“You should have.” She picked her coffee back up. “Eat your eggs before they get cold.”
I watched this exchange from the bottom of the stairs with my arms crossed, torn between horror and a grudging respect for how efficiently Grandma could make a six-foot man look like a schoolboy in the principal’s office. He ate his eggs. He answered every question she threw at him without dodging or trying to be charming, which was smart because Grandma could smell charm the way other people smelled burnt toast and she trusted it about as much.
“Andrea has a doctor’s appointment this afternoon,” Grandma said casually, refilling her coffee. “Prenatal check-up.”
“Grandma.”
“What? I’m making conversation.”
I glared at her. She smiled into her mug.
Finneas looked at me. “Can I come?”
I’d told him co-parenting. I’d told him he could be in the baby’s life. Saying no to a doctor’s appointment would be petty and I was trying very hard not to be petty even though petty felt really good right now.
“Fine. But don’t be weird about it.”
He was weird about it. He was a disaster. In the waiting room he picked up every pamphlet on the rack and read them with the intensity of a man studying for a final exam. He asked the receptionist three questions before I pulled him into a chair. His knee bounced the entire time we waited, and when the nurse called my name he stood up so fast his chair scraped the floor.
“Calm down, caveman,” I muttered as we walked back.
He was quiet during the exam. Stood in the corner with his arms crossed, jaw tight, watching the monitor like he could will the baby into appearing faster. When the doctor pointed out the heartbeat on the screen, his whole body went still.
“Strong heartbeat,” the doctor said. “Everything looks good.”
I glanced at Finneas. His eyes were locked on the screen, his jaw working, and I realized with a jolt that his eyes were wet. He blinked hard, looked at the ceiling, looked back at the screen.
“You okay over there?” I asked.
“Fine.” His voice was rough.
