Chapter 9 - The HearingThe family court hearing became unavoidable.
Her assignment was based near Washington, D.C.
The children had school.
She had duty.
Life could not remain suspended because the Whitmore family finally discovered consequences.
Grant asked one question.
“Can I come to Virginia?”
Savannah stared at him.
“To visit.”
“That’s a six-hour drive.”
“I know.”
“You have a company.”
“I have executives.”
“You have a house.”
“I have several. Apparently that’s one of my least attractive qualities.”
Savannah laughed before she could stop herself.
Grant smiled.
It was the first unguarded moment between them.
Then she became serious.
“We need lawyers.”
He nodded.
“Custody arrangement.”
“Yes.”
“Child support.”
“I don’t need—”
“It isn’t for you.”
She stopped.
Grant continued.
“I missed thirteen years of responsibility. I’m not going to treat financial support like charity.”
Savannah studied him.
“Fine.”
“I also want to contribute to education separately from my father’s trust.”
“We’ll discuss it.”
“That means no.”
“That means we’ll discuss it.”
Grant smiled faintly.
“Still terrifying.”
“What?”
“You.”
“Good.”
He came to Virginia the following weekend.
Ethan had a baseball game.
Grant arrived forty minutes early.
Savannah found him sitting alone at the top of the bleachers holding two coffees.
“You’re early.”
“You hate late people.”
She looked at him.
“You remember?”
“I remember everything about you.”
That was dangerous territory.
Savannah took the coffee.
“Don’t.”
Grant nodded.
“Sorry.”
Ethan spotted him during warmups.
The boy’s face changed.
Just slightly.
But Savannah saw it.
He was pleased.
Grant cheered carefully.
Not loudly enough to embarrass him.
Not quietly enough to seem indifferent.
In the fourth inning, Ethan hit a double.
Grant shot to his feet.
“That’s my—”
He stopped.
Savannah looked at him.
Grant sat down.
“My… Ethan.”
Savannah nearly smiled.
After the game, Ethan walked toward them covered in dirt.
“Did you see the hit?”
Grant looked offended.
“I saw everything.”
“You were on your phone.”
“I recorded the hit.”
Ethan blinked.
“Oh.”
Grant held up the video.
“Want it?”
Ethan nodded.
That evening, the children insisted Grant stay for pizza.
Savannah agreed.
Noah showed him his telescope.
Luke introduced every stuffed animal he had owned since age four.
Rose made Grant examine seventeen horse drawings.
Emma climbed onto his lap without asking.
Grant froze.
Savannah watched from the kitchen.
He looked at Emma.
Then at Savannah.
She nodded once.
Grant carefully put an arm around his daughter.
Emma continued watching television as though nothing historic had happened.
Grant cried silently.
Savannah pretended not to notice.
Over the next two months, Grant drove to Virginia every weekend.
Sometimes he stayed in a hotel.
Sometimes he rented a house.
He never asked to stay with Savannah.
He attended parent conferences only after she approved.
He learned food allergies.
Teachers’ names.
Shoe sizes.
Medical histories.
He learned Luke had nightmares during thunderstorms.
Noah got motion sick.
Rose needed silence before dance recitals.
Emma could not sleep without her stuffed rabbit.
Ethan hated discussing emotions but communicated perfectly while throwing a baseball.
Grant learned fatherhood not as a grand gesture.
As repetition.
Showing up.
Again.
Again.
Again.
One rainy Saturday, he missed Noah’s science competition.
His plane from Georgia was delayed.
Noah said he did not care.
Savannah knew better.
At 7:40 that evening, someone knocked.
Grant stood outside soaked from the storm.
He had rented a car in Richmond and driven two hours after his flight diverted.
Noah opened the door.
“You missed it.”
“I know.”
“I got second.”
Grant held up a paper bag.
“I brought apology donuts.”
Noah tried not to smile.
“Those don’t fix things.”
“No.”
“What kind?”
“Chocolate glaze.”
Noah stepped aside.
“They fix some things.”
Savannah watched Grant enter.
He looked exhausted.
And suddenly she remembered another Grant.
Twenty-three years old.
Standing outside her dormitory in a thunderstorm because she had mentioned casually that she missed peach cobbler from home.
He drove ninety miles to bring some.
Savannah hated memory.
It ignored boundaries.
That night, after the children slept, Grant sat at the kitchen table.
“Can I ask you something?”
Savannah poured tea.
“Depends.”
“Were you happy?”
“During what?”
“The ten years.”
She leaned against the counter.
“Yes.”
He seemed surprised.
“Not every minute. Quintuplets are basically organized chaos.”
He smiled.
“But yes. I built a good life.”
“Did you ever…”
He stopped.
“Date?”
Grant looked embarrassed.
“I don’t have the right to ask.”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Savannah sat across from him.
“I dated.”
His face tightened before he controlled it.
“One man seriously.”
“What happened?”
“He was kind.”
“That sounds terrible.”
She smiled.
“He wanted to marry me.”
Grant’s eyes lowered.
“I couldn’t.”
“Because of me?”
“No.”
He looked up.
“Because I was building a career, raising five children, and I realized I liked the life I had.”
Grant nodded slowly.
“That makes sense.”
“What about you?”
“I was married.”
“I noticed.”
He almost laughed.
Then the silence changed.
Grant looked at her.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what now?”
“For the fact that part of me is grateful you didn’t marry someone else.”
Savannah’s pulse changed.
“That’s selfish.”
“I know.”
“Very.”
“I know.”
She stood.
“Good night, Grant.”
He nodded.
“Good night.”
At the door, he paused.
“Savannah?”
“What?”
“I’m not going to ask you for another chance.”
She exhaled.
“Good.”
“Not because I don’t want one.”
Her heart betrayed her.
“But because you shouldn’t have to spend another day dealing with what I want.”
Then he left.
Savannah stood in the quiet kitchen for a long time.
For ten years, she had imagined what it might feel like for Grant to finally understand what he had done.
She had expected vindication.
May you like
Instead, she felt something much more inconvenient.
She missed the man he was becoming.
