Page 93 of Charm

She nods. “So special. Her aunt raised her. We met in grade school, but then she had to transfer to a school in Queens. My mom made sure we still got to see each other, though. She always made sure that we were a part of each other’s lives.”

“Your mom sounds amazing, Greer.”

“Oh, she is.” She grins. “She lives in Denver with my dad and my grandma, but they were ready to move back and help me raise Olive. They came for Cel’s memorial service, of course, and to meet Olive.”

“But, Aaron’s parents stepped up to help with their granddaughter?” I ask.

Her top teeth scrape her bottom lip slowly. “She truly is their granddaughter. They’ve never viewed Olive as anything but family, even though…”

“Even though what, Greer?”

I think I know the answer to that question, but I suspect she wants me to hear it direct from her.

She shakes her head slightly. “Olive isn’t Aaron’s daughter.”

Warring emotions crash over me like a tidal wave. I’m falling in love with her. I know it. I feel it. There’s no denying it, but she’s telling me that she was married to a man when she gave birth to another man’s baby.

That doesn’t automatically equal an affair. She could have gone the IVF route with donor sperm.

She squeezes my hand slightly, luring my attention back to her face.

Her eyes lock on mine. “Olive isn’t my daughter either. I mean, she is. Of course, she is, but I didn’t give birth to her. I adopted her.”

I’m confused, but don’t say a word because I hope she’ll fill in the blanks for me.

“Olive is Celia’s daughter,” she whispers. “Cels died the day Olive was born. It was before she had a chance to hold her for the first time.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Greer

Holden stares at me.He’s speechless. I don’t blame him. I just dumped a lot in his lap.

“She passed away from an amniotic fluid embolism.” I take a deep breath in an effort to calm my emotions. “Not enough oxygen was flowing to Celia’s brain. There was nothing that could be done.”

“Fuck, Greer.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for you and for Olive.”

I nod in appreciation for his kind words. “Olive knows about Celia. I’ve always talked about her. She has some of Celia’s favorite trinkets on a shelf in her room. There’s a framed picture there of Celia when she was pregnant. Olive wears Celia’s favorite pendant on a gold chain around her neck sometimes.”

Holden watches intently as I tap my fingers on my chest. “Her heart is as pure as Celia’s was.”

He rubs a hand over his jaw. “Tell me about her.”

“Celia had a soft spot for animals.” My laughter envelops the words. “She convinced me to volunteer at an animal rescue with her when we were teenagers. I ended up loving it.”

Holden smiles. “Olive wanted a kitten. You two must have passed that on to her.”

Holding back tears, I smile, too. “She’s so much like Celia.”

He squeezes my hands. “It’s truly remarkable that you stepped in to take care of her.”

“I can’t imagine not doing that,” I admit. “When Celia was pregnant, she worried about a lot of what-ifs since she didn’t have any family. Her aunt was her only relative, and she died when we were nineteen.”

“What about Olive’s dad?” he asks the question I knew was coming.

I scratch the back of my neck. “It was a one-night stand. They didn’t even exchange fake names.”

He laughs at the reminder of our three-day stand in East Hampton. “Understood.”