White Lilies (A Mitchell Sisters Novel) (16 page)

My mouth hangs open. I’m reeling from her request. I’m not sure I can even find any words. She wants me to be with Griffin and raise the baby as our own. She wants us to sleep together and have more babies. She wants me to . . .
be his wife?

“You said anything, Skylar. You said you’d do anything for me. I don’t care about all that other stuff. I want you to do this. I need you to do this. I’m dying. I realize it’s petty and cruel, but I’m playing the cancer card. I’m asking you to fulfill my dying wish. I want you to be with Griffin. I want you to marry him and have a family. I want you to live happily ever after. Will you do this for me? Please?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose before massaging my temples. When I’m finally capable of forming words with my mouth, I say, “There are so many things wrong with this, Erin. You must know that. First of all, it’s not only my choice.” I freeze. “Oh my God. Have you talked to Griffin about this?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet. Today though. When he gets back.”

“I didn’t think so.” There is no way he knew anything about this. He will freak out. He’ll freak out worse than I’m freaking out. He’ll want nothing to do with it. He loves her. He’s loved only her. Since . . . forever. We seem to fight whenever we get together. It could never work. “You say you’ve seen us together, but you haven’t. You weren’t even around most of the time we were together. We fight all the time. We practically hate each other, Erin.”

She laughs. “There’s a fine line between love and hate. And sometimes it’s called passion.”

I gasp. “Passion? Is that what you think is between us? You
are
off your rocker.”

“Are you going to sit there and tell me you haven’t thought about my husband that way?” she asks. “That you’ve never fantasized about him when you were cooking together, or at the ballgame, or out to dinner? The blush on your face right now tells me all I need to know. It’s okay, Skylar. Griffin is hot. He’s nice and genuine and wonderful. And I know he’ll do what I ask. He’ll do anything for me. He’s proven that time and time again. It’s not him I need to convince. It’s you.”

I eye her skeptically. “You’ve been planning this.” I think of all the times over the past month that Griffin and I have been thrown together. All the times Erin didn’t show up, forcing us to be alone. “The dress, the cleavage, the sex toys, the baseball game, the suggestive talks about Griffin’s penis and sexual awesomeness—this was all your plan to get me to fall for him, wasn’t it?”

A tear trails down my face. All this time. It wasn’t my fault. I was being manipulated into falling for a man who was unavailable. Or so I thought. All the guilt I felt over what I was doing to my best friend. I drop her hand and stand up, pushing myself away from the bed. “You bitch! Do you know how guilty I’ve felt over the situations you put me in with him? Do you know how much I hated myself every time I had an inappropriate thought about
your
husband? How dare you screw with my life like that?”

She’s crying with me now. “I’m sorry. It’s true. Everything you said. But I didn’t know any other way. I had to find out if you were compatible. I had to know if there could ever be something there. I know that there can be, Skylar. And I’m asking you to let there be.”

I feel dirty. Like I need to run home and shower and scrub filth from my flesh. “Doesn’t it make your skin crawl thinking of Griffin with another woman? How can you even suggest it?”

“Yes, of course it does,” she says. “Don’t you think if I had my way that none of this would even be happening? But I can’t have my way. It’s not about me anymore.” She motions to my belly. “It’s about him. I chose to do this. It was
my
decision to bring this life into the world. And now I have to do what’s best for him. That means making sure he grows up with loving parents. Parents who are already his biological mom and dad. People who I can trust his precious little life with.”

“I don’t want kids, Erin!” I shout at her. “I was never unclear about that and you know it.”

She shakes her head, allowing another tear to spill over. “You may think that, but I see the way you are with them. With Baylor’s son. With my nieces and nephews. I just think you’ve never let yourself try. You’ve always given them back when they cry or poop or need anything. You’ve never had one of them depend on you for more than a smile and a laugh. But I know you. I know you can do this.”

“What about one of your sisters?” I ask. “I’m sure they would be happy to adopt him. It’s the perfect solution.”

“No, Skylar. He needs to be with his mom and dad. His real mom and dad.”

“But Griffin and I . . . I just can’t.”

“You can. I know you can.”

“You can’t force us together, Erin. Yes, you can ask us to try, but you can’t make us fall in love.”

She looks at me and raises her brow.
Does she know?
How could she possibly?

“I’ve seen the chemistry between you. You need to understand that when I went into early menopause, I wasn’t exactly the sexual person I used to be when Griffin and I first started having sex in college. I tried to be a good wife and keep him happy. I try to be sexy. But sometimes it’s hard to pretend when your body just doesn’t crave it. He sees you as this fertile, sexual being. I can see it in the way he follows you, stares at you when you’re not watching. You’re carrying his child, and intentional or not, men are ingrained to be attracted to that.”

I can only stare at her, shaking my head.

“Would you prefer the baby grow up without a mother? Because I know Griffin will do it. He’ll be the best single dad he can. For me. But do you really want to burden him with that? You see Mason. You see how hard it is being a single dad. Children are meant to be raised by two parents. I know sometimes that doesn’t always happen, but it doesn’t have to be that way with this baby. You are perfectly capable of giving him a wonderful life. You are perfectly capable of loving Griffin and making a family.

“You know how much I believe in fate. Things happen for a reason. I’m here to bring you and the baby together with Griffin. You have to allow me to do that. Otherwise, my life will be in vain.”

I narrow my eyes at her ridiculous statement. “Is that what you really think? That your fate was to die young and give your husband and child to another woman?”

“No. My fate is to be that precious baby’s guardian angel forever. And I’m starting right now. Please, Skylar. It’s my one dying wish. Do this for me. For him.” She points to my belly.

I pick up my coat off the chair. “I can’t . . . I have to go.” I head for the door and without turning around to face her, I say, “I’ll call Baylor or one of your sisters to come sit with you until Griffin gets back.”

Then I walk out of her room. I walk down the hallway and get into the elevator. I ride it down and head for the entrance. My stomach churns. I know what that means and I run for the nearest bathroom only to make it as far as the sink before I lose my helping of Chicken Piccata.

I wipe my mouth and stare in the mirror. What’s happening? This can’t be happening. All this time, I’ve wanted him. I’ve wanted what she has. I’ve even envisioned myself in her place. In her life. And now, she’s handing it to me on a goddamn silver platter. She wants me to live her life. Be her. Raise her kid. Fuck her husband.

And there’s only one thing running through my mind at this moment. Something my dad used to say when I was young.

Be careful what you wish for.

chapter fourteen

Damn her.

I was supposed to be working on the list. Arranging for her last months to be full of friends, family and extraordinary experiences. Why did she have to go and ruin that with her ridiculous request? All I can do is sit here and think about everything she said. She doesn’t know what she wants. It must be her disease making her say those crazy things. The baby would be much better off with an adoptive couple who would love it, not a mom who doesn’t even want it and a dad who will be grieving for God knows how long.

If I weren’t pregnant, I know exactly what I’d be doing. Getting drunk. No, plastered is more like it. I want to forget everything that has happened in the past two days. I want to go back to the way things were. Life was easy then. All I had to do was pick out what I was going to wear to work and make my customers happy. Now, I have to help pick out a casket and grant a dying woman her last wishes.

I don’t know how long I’ve been lying here when I suddenly feel strange. My stomach flutters and I wonder if I’m going to puke again. I close my eyes and breathe, trying to stave off my would-be sickness when it dawns on me that something incredible is happening. These flutters I’m feeling, as light as a butterfly’s wings, it’s not nausea, it’s the baby moving.
Oh, God
.

My hand instinctively goes to my belly as I concentrate on feeling the sensation. He’s in there. There’s actually a living, breathing human growing inside of me. I mean, I’ve known it all along. I even saw Bean on the ultrasound, but it was never truly real until this very second. Why now? Why did he choose now to let me know he’s there? Is it because he knows I said I didn’t want him?

A wave of guilt washes through me. Could I do this? Could I be a mom? It was never part of the plan.

Then, as quickly as it started, the flutters cease. I lay perfectly still for a long time, willing them to come back. Is he okay? Is something wrong because he stopped moving?

A knock on the door startles me, and I jump up to answer it.

I look through the peephole to see the top of Griffin’s dark hair. He’s slumped over, his head is hung low and he’s supporting himself against my door with an outstretched arm. Did she tell him? Or is he just here to go over the list? My heart races thinking of facing him after the bomb Erin dropped on us.

I tentatively open the door and Griffin falls through it like he forgot he was leaning against it. He stumbles into my apartment, catching himself before he hits the floor. He looks up at me and it’s written all over his face. He knows. He’s defeated. Lost. Shattered. He’s also drunk off his ass if his unsteadiness and his smell are any indication.

“Are you drunk?”

“Damn, I hope so,” he slurs. He walks into the kitchen and starts rummaging through my cabinets.

“What the hell are you doing?” I follow him.

“Got any booze?” He opens the cabinet over the fridge and pulls out a bottle of champagne. The bottle Erin brought, but never opened, the second time we took a pregnancy test. I had forgotten it was even there.

I try to grab it from him. “You can’t open that! It was from Erin.”

His eyes go wide as he keeps the bottle from me. Then he turns so his back is to me and proceeds to rip the foil from the cork.

“Stop it, Griffin! Don’t do this.”

He laughs as the cork pops and a bit of liquid spills from the bottle. The laugh is desperate. Full of pain. Broken. “Well, it’s only fitting it was from her. This way we can toast the happy fucking couple. To us.” He tips the bottle at me and then takes a long drink from it.

I watch as he chugs the warm champagne. I worry that he’s drinking too much on top of what he’s already had. That won’t do anyone any good. I rip the bottle from his lips, spilling some onto the floor as it trails out of his mouth.

“What’d you do that for?” he yells, looking at the puddle on the floor below. “You wasted some damn fine champagne. Not a very good way to start this thing.” His cloudy, unfocused eyes find mine. “You always gonna tell me what to do? Already acting like my ball and fucking chain, aren’t ya?”

“Griffin, stop!” I yell over his voice. “This isn’t any way to deal with it. You’re making it worse.”

“Ha!” He all but falls over, slipping in the spilled liquid, but catching himself on the countertop. “Worse? How can I make this any fucking worse? My wife is dying.
Dying!
And she wants me to fuck her best friend. That’s one hell of a parting gift, don’t you think? How about you? How does it make you feel being my goddamn consolation prize?”

Tears collect in my eyes. I try not to let his words get to me. He’s drunk. He’s hurting. He’s devastated. He’s trying to cope with the unrealistic demands his sick wife is making. I can’t fault him for getting drunk. I’d be right there with him if I could.

He tries to grab the bottle from me but I won’t let it go. We struggle for a second and then his hand slips and the bottle falls, crashing into the sink, shattering into many broken pieces. We both stare at it. Then I feel a sting and look down to see that my hand got sliced from the bottle. “Fuck!” I scream out in anger. In hurt. In sheer heartache for our situation.

“Goddammit, Sky, don’t say fuck!”

I spin around and reach for a towel, but slip on the champagne. Griffin catches me and pulls me into his arms. Before I even realize what’s happening, his lips are on mine. He kisses me with such desperation, like a man who will never kiss a woman again. And for one small second, I let him. For one small second, I want to forget everyone and everything. I want to forget about dying and bucket lists and final wishes. Forget motherless babies,  widowed fathers, and grieving friends. For one second I let myself live the fantasy of Griffin’s lips on my body.

But when the second is over and I fully comprehend what’s happening, I pull away. Then I slap him. Hard. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m doing what she wants!” he yells.

I grab a paper towel and hold it to the small cut on my hand. I throw a few more down on the puddle, so we won’t slip on it again. Then I go into the living room. Away from him. I sink into the couch and pull my legs up to protect me. I watch him follow me. I see the moment he realizes what he’s done as horror washes over his face and he closes his eyes. He sits on the chair opposite me. His body language says everything. His head falls forward and his arms rest on his knees. He shakes his head back and forth. “Jesus, Skylar. What the hell did I do?”

“I won’t disrespect her like that,” I say. “Even if she thinks this is what she wants. I would never do that to her.”