Page 19

Chapter sixteen

Griffin

M arco returns with our drinks, and Danae orders the salmon while I order a steak. When Marco leaves, I raise my cocktail glass to her. She clinks her glass to mine and takes a sip. I wait with bated breath for her reaction.

“Not gonna lie . . . that’s pretty darn good,” Danae says. She takes a second drink and adds, “The cranberry splash adds a tart counterpart to the sour fizz of the club soda and lime. It’s like a refreshing punch to the mouth.”

“I told you,” I reply with a grin and take a sip. “Jeff’s the true wizard. I’ve tried ordering the same drink other places, and they never get the cranberry ratio right.” I set my glass down on the table. “So, how’s it been balancing work along with your new responsibilities as a mom?”

“Okay, I think? It makes it easier that Jason comes with me to work every day. I’m sure it would be a lot more complicated to be working in an office and coordinating getting him to school and staying longer at after-school care,” she says.

I study her as she takes another sip of her drink.

“Of course, there are also challenges to him being at school with me. I knew him as a student first, and I know all of the behind-the-scenes discussions that have happened with administration about him prior to him coming to live with me. And I know about all of the social challenges he can have with his classmates. ”

I nod. “That would be tough to have a teacher lens over one eye and a protective mom lens over the other eye.”

“Exactly!” she exclaims. “I wouldn’t have even thought to phrase it that way.

Yes—as his mom now, especially being privy to more information about his background, my hackles rise any time something negative comes up at school.

But I also know how tiring it is as a teacher to deal with those behaviors.

I’m not sure which side of my brain to defer to. ”

“You don’t have to answer this if the question is too personal,” I say, “but how did you go from being his teacher to being his kinship placement for adoption? Again, I know that Jason’s background is his private story, so don’t share anything you don’t want to.”

“I appreciate your understanding,” Danae replies, and I can see the truth of it in her eyes. “I can’t tell you the number of well-meaning people who found out I was adopting Jason and immediately wanted to know every sensational detail about why he was in foster care.”

I hum. “I get it. I generally don’t even tell people that Sam’s not my biological sister—I leave that to her to choose to bring up if and when she wants to talk about it.

So, while getting to know you better includes learning more about Jason, I never want to overstep.

Feel free to shut down any question I ask that seems too intrusive. For real,” I say.

Danae nods appreciatively. She leans forward, her voice lowering.

“Jason was in and out of foster care a few times. His mom died of a drug overdose when he was a baby. His dad was on the roller coaster of using drugs and then getting clean for a while, back and forth. Jason was removed from his dad’s care a couple of times but returned when his dad took the right steps.

His paternal grandmother, Cathy, helped take care of him at times, but she also has some health challenges related to decades of smoking. ”

My heart fills with even more compassion for Jason and Danae as she continues.

“A few months ago, Jason’s father was arrested for armed robbery and possession with the intent to sell.

This wasn’t his first offense, so he’ll be in prison for quite a while.

He decided to terminate his parental rights, believing it was the best thing for Jason to have a chance at being adopted into a stable home .

“There were no maternal biological family members interested in adopting Jason. Cathy had the first rights to adopt Jason as his biological family, but she didn’t think that she could handle it, given her own challenges.

Apparently, Jason had talked to her about me multiple times.

She sought me out and asked if I would consider adopting Jason since I was already a safe, familiar figure in his life.

I thought about it for a couple of weeks, but I think I knew the instant she asked me that I would say yes,” Danae explains.

My heart hurts in so many ways. Clearing my throat, all I can manage to say is, “Wow. There aren’t really the right kind of words to respond to something like that, are there?”

“Yeah, I know,” Danae agrees. “Samantha told me that your parents adopted her and her biological brother from foster care. Were they the only kids your parents fostered?”

“Nope—they were the only two who joined our family permanently. But there were over a dozen kids who lived with us for some duration of time. My mom undoubtedly knows the exact number,” I say.

“I’m sure she’d have some wisdom to pass on if you need a pep talk at any point.

Although, maybe you’re already getting unsolicited wisdom from your own mom. ”

I made the statement in a joking tone of voice, but the shadow of pain that crosses Danae’s face makes me wish I could take back the words.

Marco arrives with our food before I can apologize for my off-hand comment.

He takes a moment for me to cut into the steak to check if it was cooked correctly.

When we both decline needing anything else, he leaves us to our meal and conversation.

Danae’s face is pensive as she takes a small bite of salmon. Before I start eating, I want to recalibrate the mood of our conversation.

“I’m sorry I made that comment about your mom when I don’t know anything about your family.

That was insensitive of me,” I admit. “You’re welcome to tell me whatever you want to about your family, or we can move on to talking about the winter storm heading our way next week and the likelihood of you getting extra days off school. ”

Danae laughs a genuine laugh, her eyes sparkling. But just as quickly, the sparkle dims. She pokes her fork around her plate before responding. “ Let’s just say, I don’t currently have a close relationship with my parents.”

She looks up to meet my eyes, and there’s so much sadness in her expression.

I wish I could reach over to touch her face and absorb all the sorrow residing inside her.

I settle for telling her, “That’s really tough, Danae.

Now that I know you don’t have your family to lean on as you adjust to motherhood, I’m even more glad that Sam connected with you to babysit.

I mean, completely aside from my own gain in getting to know you as well. ”

Danae gives me a small smile, and I take a bite of my steak to give her space to talk more about her family or move on.

“The tension with my parents and my . . . initial discomfort with this restaurant are actually related,” Danae says quietly, not quite meeting my eyes.

I swallow hard. “I’m sorry I brought you somewhere uncomfortable for you. Geez, I pretty royally screwed up this first date. You’ll receive zero criticism if you decide to run away screaming.”

She laughs again. “No, it’s okay. I’m enjoying it now.

I’ll admit, when you first told me this was our destination, I might have preemptively judged you based on my past experiences.

But I see why you wanted to come here—this must be a comfortable place for you, given the fact that you seem to know the personal life details of every employee here. ”

I make an exaggerated grimace when she raises her eyebrows.

“You caught me,” I say. “This is my default dinner spot. The arrival of a professional athlete here isn’t unusual enough to draw a lot of attention from the other guests.

They’re used to people with higher profiles than me eating here. So it’s sort of a safe place to come.”

“And you’re friends with the whole staff,” Danae adds, her smile teasing.

“And I’m friends with the whole staff,” I agree with a laugh. “It’s nice to come here and feel like I’m catching up with a bunch of old friends each time. Not navigating a social circus.”

Danae nods in understanding then purses her lips. “I came here countless times with my family—well, here and other comparable restaurants. But my parents weren’t coming here to fly under the radar or to get to know the employees. It was all about being seen for them.”

She looks so conflicted that I can no longer resist the urge to touch her. I place a hand lightly over hers just long enough to say, “You don’t have to tell me more. But if you want to, know that anything you say is safe with me.”

Her eyes are locked on the physical contact of our hands, but as soon as I move my hand away, she meets my gaze.

“My dad is a financial planner for high-net-worth individuals,” Danae says.

“He didn’t grow up particularly wealthy but had a knack for good investment strategies, so he climbed the ranks at every financial planning firm he worked for.

Which was exactly his goal—climbing the social ladder.

“He was never content with what we had, even when it was a lot. He wanted more. More money, more social connections, more status symbols. We bought a home in Mission Hills when I was in high school, and that only made things worse. Because we were the new money in the old money section of town, so Dad had even more to prove. Everything about our lives was orchestrated to move our family up the social food chain—including my dating life,” Danae says, voice tightening.

I’m staring at her, hanging on her every word. I’m grateful that she’s not making eye contact right now to see the way my mouth is hanging open. What kind of father does that to his daughter? To his family?

“My parents expected me to be the trophy wife for Tyler, the son of one of my dad’s big clients, to solidify our place in high society.

They ‘indulged’ my desire to get a degree in education, not thinking I would put it to use,” she says, emphasizing the statement with air quotes and an eye roll.

“At first, I felt like I had no choice but to play along with the game. But the more education classes I took, the more I knew I wanted to teach for real. When I graduated college, applied for my teaching license, and broke up with Tyler all within the span of a week, well . . . let’s just say our communication dropped to almost nothing. ”

I’m speechless. Usually, it’s not hard for me to immediately come up with the right words to say in any given conversation. It’s like a superpower .

But my superpower is short-circuiting. Because I’m still silently staring when Danae finally makes eye contact again. She shrugs. “You’ll receive zero criticism if you decide to run away screaming,” she says. Her parroting of my words cuts through my brain fog.

I reach across the table to take her hand in mine, gently rubbing my thumb against her palm. “I’m not screaming. And not running away. Quite the opposite.”

“So you’re a glutton for trauma?” she says. Her tone is joking, but there’s a kernel of serious inquiry behind it.

I shake my head slowly. “Not a fan of trauma in the slightest. I’ve seen too much of its negative effects to be attracted to it.

But I suppose I’ve been adjacent to it for enough of my life to have the deepest respect for the people who fight their way through it, day in and day out.

Even though it lasts a lifetime. And I have so much respect for you being willing to walk with Jason through his when you have your own baggage to carry. ”

Danae’s eyes brim with unshed tears as she fights the quiver in her chin.

Squeezing her hand firmly, I say, “Look, Danae, I like you. I like you even more now than I did coming into tonight. But regardless of what happens or doesn’t happen between us romantically, I’m here for you to lean on as you navigate all of this.

And I know Sam is all in too. We understand firsthand how much support you’re going to need as you continue moving forward with Jason.

Sam and I are here for you however we can be, even if our relationship winds up being only friendship. ”

She squeezes my hand back, and I look at her with a wry smile. “But, in case that was confusing, allow me to clarify that I’d very much like to be more than just your friend.”

Everything Danae has shared tonight only confirms my instinct about her—that she’s exactly the type of woman I could be attracted to for the long term.

Not only attracted to . . . possibly fall in love with.

She’s genuine and down to earth. She’s passionate and tender-hearted.

It’s not hard to picture the future with her, and it’s certainly not hard to get lost in the forest of her green eyes and the soothing timbre of her voice .

I’m suddenly picturing myself coming home from a day of training and finding Danae and Jason playing a game on the back porch.

I’d walk over and wrap my arms around her, maybe gently kiss her neck while inhaling the scent of her hair.

She’d look up at me with those gorgeous eyes, and I wouldn’t resist dropping my lips to hers.

I’d sit down and pull Danae onto my lap, snuggling her closer to me.

She’d lean her head against my shoulder, and I’d massage my fingers against her scalp while I listened to Jason share what he did at school that day.

The vision is so real, I can almost reach out and touch the image in my mind.

Danae’s laugh breaks through her tears and snaps me out of my runaway daydream. She smiles at me when she says, “I’m starting to think I might want to be more than just your friend too.”