Chapter 4 - Eight Years of Denial
Grant met us halfway across the lawn. "Vanessa," he managed, barely above a whisper.
"Merry Christmas, Grant."
His eyes moved slowly from one boy's face to the next. "Who—" He couldn't quite land the rest of the sentence.
Colton whispered, not quietly enough, to Miles, "This is way more awkward than Mom said it'd be."
"Colton."
"Sorry."
Grant looked back at me instead. "Are they—"
"Yes."
His face hardened almost on instinct. "No."
I'd braced myself for shock. For anger. Maybe even something that looked like real regret. I should have known flat denial would come first, ahead of all of it.
"No?" I asked evenly.
"This isn't possible."
Miles looked straight up at him, unbothered. "Pretty sure we're possible. We're standing right here."
I rested a hand on his shoulder. Grant barely registered the comment. "You told me you were pregnant."
"I did."
"You said one baby."
"That's what I believed, at the time."
His eyes widened. "Four?"
"Quadruplets."
Charlotte and Harold reached us then. Charlotte stared at Owen, then at Grant, then back at Owen. "He looks exactly like you did, at that age," she whispered.
Harold crouched slightly in front of Dean. "How old are you, son?"
"Eight."
"When's your birthday?"
Harold turned slowly to his own son, and I watched the entire calculation play out on his face — the divorce, the actual dates, the pregnancy I'd once claimed, Grant's own stubborn certainty about all of it. "Grant..."
"I need to talk to Vanessa. Alone."
"No," Owen said immediately.
Every adult turned toward him at once. My oldest son stepped forward without flinching. "You can talk to her. But if it's about us, we're staying right here for it."
Something flickered across Grant's face. Recognition, maybe. He had always hated being talked about without a seat at the table. Apparently his son felt exactly the same way.
Danielle approached quietly from behind the gathered family — elegant, composed, and clearly not remotely prepared for any of this. "Maybe we should all just head inside," she said gently. "These boys must be freezing."
Dean nodded immediately. "I genuinely can't feel my toes."
May you like
That broke the whole frozen tableau on the lawn. Charlotte became a grandmother before anyone had officially given her permission to be one. "Oh — of course, please, come in, all of you." She reached toward Dean, then stopped herself and looked at me first.
That small hesitation mattered more than she probably realized. I nodded. Dean took her hand. And Charlotte Ashworth's eyes filled instantly.
