Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“She eats like a pig,” August said with a giggle.
Nicky let out a little snort.
Hope grinned down at her daughter, pulling her hair back off her face and fastening it with a small band so she didn’t shovel the strands in her mouth along with the eggs. “My girl doesn’t like being hungry,” she said with a proud smile.
“She really doesn’t.” Griffen beamed at his daughter.
A few minutes later, Paige rose, taking both younger boys with her. She sent a look to Thatcher a few seats down—silent as he shoveled food into his mouth and scrolled on his phone. “You about ready to go?” she asked.
Thatcher grunted in response.
“Garage in ten minutes.”
Another grunt.
Good to know teenagers hadn’t changed much since my time. I tried not to watch her leave the room. Griffen and Hope would know what was going on soon enough, but I’d rather wait to talk about it until we didn’t have an audience.
Chapter Eighteen
PAIGE
Ford was waiting in the hall as I came down the stairs at three minutes to eight, the manila envelope in my hand, my heart thudding in my chest until I was light-headed. I knew I needed to tell Griffen and Hope the truth. I wanted to come clean, but I was terrified of the consequences.
“Don’t worry,” Ford said.
“I can’t help it,” I said. “I don’t want to have to leave.”
“You’re not going to. I promise.”
“You can’t promise me that,” I said, following him down the hall to the office. I wasn’t sure if having Ford by my side would help or hurt my case, but I was grateful he was there.
After a quick knock on the door and Griffen’s answering, “Come in,” I pushed it open. Hope was staring down at her phone, but Griffen’s eyes widened a fraction as he saw Ford behind me. It occurred to me that if Ford hadn’t found that picture of his mother, we might be having this conversation with Griffen about us.
I was done trying to fool myself into thinking this was casual. Every time he touched me, I only wanted him more. That wasn’t changing. We would have ended up here eventually. And I would have been less nervous.
Griffen looked at the envelope in my hand. “Take a seat,” he said, his tone all business. Hope looked up at his words and took in Ford and me standing together. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
Stiffly, I sat, knees and ankles together, spine straight, the envelope clutched so hard in my fingers my knuckles were turning white.
Ford sat in the chair beside me. “Hey,” he said quietly, “it’s okay. Give me that.” He slid the envelope from my fingers, wrapping his hand around mine.
“Why don’t you tell us what this is about,” Hope said gently.
“I—” I swallowed hard. “I’m not who you think I am.”
Ford squeezed my fingers in his in comfort. This was between me, Griffen, and Hope. If they were angry—as they had every right to be—Ford wouldn’t be able to help, but I loved that he wanted to. It meant everything.
“I mean,” I clarified, “I am Paige McKenna. Everything I told you when you hired me, everything Hawk and his team looked into, is all true. But there’s more that I didn’t tell you.” I looked to Ford, to the envelope in his hands. “Will you—?”
He nodded. “I found this in Paige’s room yesterday,” he said, holding up the envelope before passing it to Griffen.
“What were you doing in Paige’s room yesterday?” Hope asked sharply, her eyes narrowed on her brother-in-law.
“That’s the other part of this,” Ford said. “Paige and I—” He squeezed my fingers again.
“There’s a Paige and you?” Griffen asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Yes,” Paige said, “which I understand is completely inappropriate.”
“And how long has this been going on?” Hope asked. Her voice was full of curiosity rather than censure, her head tilted to the side as she looked between the two of us. “I usually have a good feel for all the interesting news in Heartstone, but I missed this.”
Her gaze flicked to Griffen, and he shook his head. “Me too. We’ll have to ask Savannah if she knew.”
“She would have told me,” Hope said.
Griffen undid the prongs sealing the envelope, and opened it. The picture of his mother slid out, and he froze. After a long moment, his eyes shot to me—cold and hard. “Why do you have a picture of my mother?” he demanded.
Hope reached for it, turning it over in her hand. “Sarah Elizabeth Fordham.” She let out a sigh. “She was so young.”
“I found that when I was cleaning out my mother’s attic,” I began, explaining as I had to Ford how I’d discovered Paul Williams and the letters from Sarah. “And then Janice Smith had told me you were looking for a nanny, and it seemed…”