We hang up at the same time. Feeling the weight of the past few hours settle heavily on me, I shuffle into my room, grab my sleep shirt and shorts, and head to the bathroom.
Right after the shower, I climb into bed, my eyes closing before my head hits the pillow.
I jolt awake sometime during the night, my heart pounding inside my chest. Taking deep breaths to calm myself, I allow my eyes to fall shut and recount everything that happened from the time we got to Boston to the time we got back to Portland. Specifically after Sol and I had sex. I recount the whole process just for good measure, and suddenly, my stomach drops. Panic shoots through my veins, causing my heart to speed up.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I didn’t take my birth control pill yesterday or today. I don’t even know what time it is. All I know is, it’s dark outside.
After my mom called me yesterday in a panic, we rushed back to Portland so I could be by her side. My mind was so focused on getting home that nothing else mattered, and I completely forgot.
I reach for the lamp on the nightstand and switch it on, jump out of bed, and start pacing and gnawing at my thumbnail.
God, please. Don’t let me be pregnant. I can’t have a baby. I made Sol all these promises about having kids, but I’m not ready.
All my fears slam into me like a punch to my gut, causing me to double over. I can’t. What if they’re born with that destructive gene similar to my biological father?
I shake my head. Is that even possible? I don’t have extensive knowledge of genetic codes, but I mean, here I am. Look at me. Considering how I was conceived, I’m a decent human being, I believe.
So are children conceived by a serial killer. The ones who grow up and follow in their parents’ footstep.
Stop, Grace.
Stop. I’m overreacting. Surely, I only missed taking the pill one time, and I’m already jumping to conclusions with nothing more than panic and fear.
Dashing across the room, I grab my bag from the floor and rummage inside for the dispenser. I toss a pill inside my mouth and chase it down with the glass of water on my nightstand.
Shuffling back to my bed, I sit on the edge of the mattress and breathe through the panic. Then I climb back in bed and turn off the light, before pulling the sheets up to my shoulders and curl up. After what feels like hours of staring into the dark, my eyes start drooping with sleep.
By the time I wake up and shower, it’s almost eleven. I check my phone for messages or missed calls, and find two texts from Sol. In the first one, he’s asking if I’m on my way to the rectory. In the second one, which was sent about ten minutes ago, he says he’s already at his new place, waiting for the truck from the furniture shop where he bought his furniture.
Ugh. Why did I sleep in so long? I was supposed to meet Sol at ten o’clock to help him move to his new apartment. I text him to let him know I’m on my way to his new place. Mom and Christopher have already left the house for the day.
After filling my to-go cup with coffee, I head out to my car. Halfway through the drive, I switch lanes and head for the next exit. After last night, I should stay away, yet here I am driving to the Holiday Inn. I park my car in the parking lot and stride inside the hotel.
The man at the reception desk lifts his head when I halt in front of him, meeting my gaze with a smile. “Welcome to the Holiday Inn. How may I help you?”
I shoot him a friendly smile. “Hey. I’m here to see Mr. and Mrs. Miller.”
“Room number, please?”
“Um . . .” Shit. I don’t even know their room number. “I forgot the room number. Could you check under Emily and William Miller?”
“It’s against our policy to give that kind of information, miss. If you have a room number—”
“Grace?” a familiar voice calls out. I follow the sound of my name and see my grandmother hurry in my direction while dragging a suitcase behind her. She stops in front of me, eyeing me worriedly. “Hey, Grace. You came to see us?”
I glance over her shoulder and see my grandfather hovering near the set of elevators several feet away. From the blank expression on his face, I can’t tell what he’s thinking, and to be honest, I don’t care.
I switch my gaze back to Emily. “I was hoping to talk to you. I know you meant well when you came to Portland.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “We made things worse, didn’t we?”
My heart aches for her, but I can’t just forget what happened last night. “Yeah. Well, not you.” I nod my chin to William, then clench my jaw, hoping to restrain the anger simmering in my veins. “William said some pretty awful things. Look, my mother and I have come a long way, and we don’t need that kind of negativity. So I’m begging you, please leave.”
She sniffs, then digs for a tissue from inside her purse and wipes her eyes. “I talked to Debra, and I was hoping to see her before we leave.”
“You did? What did she say?”
“She agreed only to see me.” She gives me a wobbly smile, before tossing a stern look where William is standing.
“Everything okay between, um, you two?” I question.
She shakes her head, then brings her eyes to mine. “Oh, don’t worry about us.” Her gaze darts to the hotel entrance, and she blinks rapidly. “Your mother’s here.”
I swing around to see Mom and Christopher heading in our direction, his arm around her shoulders. Right before they reach us, he says something in a low voice, and she answers with a quick nod. She kisses my forehead, then pulls back.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at Sol’s?”
“I wanted to stop by to talk to Emily. You okay, though?” I whisper, nodding to my grandmother.
“I am. Chris is here as well. Go. Sol must be waiting for you.” She nods again to reassure me, then looks at my grandmother.
“Debra, thank you for coming,” Emily says, dropping her hand on the suitcase.
“Yeah. You wanted to talk?” Mom says, not sparing her father a glance.
Emily nods. “Maybe we should sit down?” She points at the lounge chairs several feet away.
“Sure,” Mom says.
“Okay, I’ll leave you two to talk. Have a good flight back home, grandma,” I say.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. I hope . . . I hope you can forgive me—”
Caving, I rush forward and wrap my arms around her waist. “Just keep him away from us.” She sniffs once before pulling back. “He’ll come around—”
“No. I can’t be around him, okay?” Then I turn and stride out of the hotel without waiting for her response.
The drive to Sol’s takes me almost seven minutes. He’s waiting outside the building when I get there, watching me with concern as I head toward him.
He grasps his cap on his head and turns it backward, revealing worried blues roaming my face. “You okay?”
I shake my head. “No. Not really.” I’m still so angry and disappointed about my grandfather. At this moment, I wish his blood didn’t run in my veins. And every time I think about forgetting the pill, my heart races inside my chest.
“Come here,” he murmurs softly, pulling me into his arms, then kisses my hair. “I wish I could make things better for you.”