Page 4

Chapter

Four

Grace

Grace’s coffee mug sat on the desk in front of her. Full. It cooled in the ceramic mug that said, “None of your emails are finding me well”—a gift from her law school friend Alexis—while she stared at her laptop screen. No new messages from anyone but her regular contacts.

Grace drummed her fingers against the rim of the cup. The lawyer representing the birth mother still hadn’t responded. Over twenty-four hours. Which, fine. It was a legal matter, not a five-minute customer service request, and it was the weekend. But every hour of radio silence felt like a thousand.

She exhaled, finally lifting the cup to her lips and turning her focus back to work. She had a text from her assistant.

Sent you the contract notes. Let me know if you want to tweak the language before the call.

The text message blinked, but she could barely process it. Her brain felt like it was being dragged through molasses. She clicked into the document, scanning the flagged sections with the developer’s latest demands.

They wanted less liability, more loopholes, fewer guarantees. Classic. On a typical day, she could carve through this in ten minutes. Today, though?

Grace leaned back against the lumbar-supported office chair, blowing out a breath. What if this petition was legitimate? What if the birth mother had a case? She cycled between being pissed off that she hadn’t received any clarifying details and hopeful that the lack of information meant they were stalling.

Work. Right.

She spun in her chair and stretched, adjusting the waistband of her joggers. Normally she forced herself to dress for work even if she was remote. She couldn’t refute the research correlating productivity and uniforms, but that morning, she didn’t think a pencil skirt was going to magically lower her cortisol levels.

Grace stared up at the blank wall opposite her. She’d never meant to stay in Calgary long, but she was starting to regret not hanging something. Perhaps a canvas from Home Sense or a colour other than greige would’ve made her feel a little less desperate.

Her gaze flicked to the time on her laptop.

9:17 a.m., which meant it was 12:17 p.m. Eastern Standard.

Perfect. She tapped the call button before she could talk herself out of it. The phone barely rang twice before her mother answered.

“Well, hello, beautiful daughter of mine.”

Grace huffed a laugh. The sound of her mother’s voice was like a fluffy blanket in the middle of a snowstorm. “Hey, Mom.”

“What’s wrong?”

Grace blinked. “Who says something’s wrong?”

“You’re calling me in the middle of the day.”

“Maybe I just wanted to chat.”

Her mother hummed. ”Great, let’s chat.”

Grace pinched the bridge of her nose as her mind went blank. “Uh . . . okay. So there’s something wrong.”

“Spill.”

So Grace did. She ran through the situation with Country and Jenna, how she became friends with Troy’s son, Tyler, and found out they were having trouble fostering to adopt and how she only wanted to help. She told her about the petition, how she didn’t have any information, and that she was spiraling wondering whether it was her fault and what in the hell she was going to do if that sweet, perfect baby was stripped from Jenna’s arms.

By the time she finished, her mother was quiet.

Finally, she sighed. “I’m so sorry. That’s terrifying.”

“It is.”

“I can’t even imagine what would’ve happened if your birth mother tried to take you back.”

Grace pushed out of the chair and started pacing. It had been hard enough for her to track down her birth mother so she could get information on her genetics when she was in her early twenties. Her mother had passed away, overdose, five years prior.

“But . . . “

Grace stilled. “But what?”

Her mother proceeded with caution. “I also can’t imagine giving up a child. I’m forever grateful that your mother chose adoption, but . . . I guess I can’t blame any mother who second-guesses that decision.”

Grace started to sweat. “But she had time to make that decision, Mom.”

“How much time is ever enough time? We’re only human, Grace. We grow and change from one hour to the next. Most days, I second-guess the choices I made for breakfast.”

Grace plopped back down in her chair. This was exactly why she’d gotten out of family law. There was rarely a cut-and-dry answer, and finding a solution that satisfied everyone was like trying to catch a glimpse of the Northern Lights. Just when you thought you’d found the perfect night, clouds rolled in.

“It’s such a different world now. Adoption wasn’t the same back then. It was closed, and records were sealed. If a birth mother changed her mind, she had no recourse.”

Grace frowned, staring at the sparkling city skyline through the window. “And you think that was better?”

“Not necessarily,” her mother admitted. “The system back then was harsh. But I do remember feeling great relief when the whole process was final.”

Final.

That word sat heavy in Grace’s chest. Hadn’t she been the one to use that word with Jenna and Country? After the ten days had passed since the birth mother signed the paperwork?

Tears pricked her eyes. “What if it was my fault? Maybe I was careless. Maybe I?—”

“No,” her mother said sharply. “You were not careless.”

Grace inhaled through her nose. “You don’t know that.”

“I know you.” She paused. “None of us are above making mistakes, but it wasn’t carelessness. You know, when you were little, you were so observant. Always watching, always assessing. Do you remember when you saw Aunt Carol for the first time in years and you noticed immediately that she’d had a mole on her neck removed?”

Grace laughed. “I don’t remember that.”

“It was a little creepy, to be honest. You were only six.”

“Maybe the mole was creepy, Mom.”

“I grew up with her, and I didn’t notice! I think it’s why you’re so good at what you do. Your brain is like a supercomputer. But that also means you blame yourself when you can’t predict everything.”

Grace exhaled, squeezing her eyes shut as André’s comments from the night before flashed through her mind. Uptight. Boring. It was the same thing Troy had said at the end of their relationship, albeit in more flattering terms. You’re so smart, you operate on a different level. I just can’t keep up.

Was that how people saw her? Some robot with input in and input out? Unrelatable? With a stick up her ass?

There wasn’t anything wrong with preparation and predictability. She worked hard to keep her life running smoothly, and that kind of foresight had skyrocketed her in her industry. She was known for her prompt communication, her attention to detail. So how was that a ticking time bomb when it came to relationships?

“There are some things we simply can’t control, no matter how hard we try, Grace.”

Grace nodded, working to swallow the lump in her throat. “I know that.” She drew a deep breath and tried to exhale away from the speaker. “So what do I do?”

“You wait.”

Grace groaned. “That’s the worst advice you’ve ever given me.”

Her mom laughed. “I know. But it’s the truth. This is one of those things. You don’t have enough information, but at some point, you will. You have to find a way to weather this storm until you get some answers. Can you jump into a hobby? Go out with friends? Do something to take your mind off it?”

No, no, and no. Her friends here were all connected with Jenna and Country, and while she’d survived the game the night before, she didn’t relish the idea of playing pretend a second time.

“You could go out dancing—ooh!—or take a Zumba class! I just did one with Lori for the first time the other day. I didn’t think my hips moved like that anymore.”

Grace laughed. “Yeah, not doing Zumba.” The last time she’d danced at a club in her twenties, she’d nearly taken out a guy’s eye. She had less rhythm than Michael Cera in Superbad. “But thank you, Mom. I’ll figure it out. I know you probably need to eat. Lunch is over at one?”

“It is, but if you need to keep talking?—”

“No, I’m good.” She wasn’t good, but no amount of conversation would solve that.

“Alright, well keep me updated?”

“I will.”

“What’s the worst case scenario, Grace?”

She blew out a shaky breath. “That it’s all my fault and I ruin my friends’ lives forever?”

“Or you saved a mother from losing her baby. There are always different angles, and sometimes it’s hard to see all of them. People are more resilient than you think. Just look at us if you need proof.”

Grace nodded, her throat tight. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too.” She hit the red button to end the call, then swivelled back to her computer, and her heart lurched to a stop. There, at the top of her inbox, was a brand-new bolded message.