Cross My Heart

It was six o’clock, Monday evening, and Mr. and Mrs. O’Dowd, Fiona’s parents, were due to arrive at Oliver’s any moment. Grayson had been helping to clean the house and hide anything that might seem ‘inappropriate’ since the day before, slightly entertained at how nervous her best friend was for this meeting.

She’d even offered to make dinner for the night, but Fiona’s parents had declined the offer, saying it wasn’t necessary. So, instead, she made some tea and set out a tray of sweets, hoping that they would at least accept that.

Grayson set the dish on the coffee table and laughed as Oskar tried to jump and get a cookie. “Down, Oskar!” she told him, pointing a finger his way. The little dog gave a cry before scampering off towards his bed, laying down with a look of disappointment. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I hate that look!”

Oliver came down the stairs, carrying Findley in his arms. “Don’t give inteh ‘im, Gray. ‘E knows ‘e can’t ‘ave that.”

“I know, but look at him; he’s so sad,” Grayson whined.

He laughed. “’E’s playin’ yeh, is what ‘e’s doin’.”

Giving up, she sighed and grinned at the smiling baby in his arms. “You are just getting so chunky! I could eat you up!” she said in a sweet voice, playfully nipping at her cheeks. Findley reached out her hand, smacking it against Grayson’s cheek.

Oliver chuckled. “Meh mum reminded meh she’ll ‘ave teh go fer a check-up soon.”

“Yeah, she’ll have lots those until she’s about a year old.”

“Are yeh sure yeh neveh ‘ad a babeh before, Gray?”

“Ha ha,” she laughed sarcastically just as the doorbell rang.

Oliver suddenly tensed up. “Shit, they’re ‘ere!” His eyes dropped down to Findley, who was slightly drooling on herself. “Oi, daddeh’s sorreh, Finn; ‘e didn’t mean teh curse.”

Grayson snickered as she walked toward the door. “Oh, he most certainly did mean to, Finn! He’s lying to you!” She pulled the door open and smiled at the couple before her.

Mr. and Mrs. O’Dowd just oozed wealth. It was obvious in their posture and clothing, and as they stepped into the house, even the air around them seemed to scream ‘money’. Fiona’s mother, who had the same strawberry blond hair as Fiona and light green eyes, turned to face her.

“You must be Grayson,” she said, extending out a hand. Grayson noticed how much she stressed not to let her Irish accent slip through.

“Yes, ma’am,” Grayson smiled, shaking the woman’s bony hand.

“I’m Delilah and this is Connor, Fiona’s father.”

Connor was a tall, slim man with light blond hair that was slowing turning gray. “It’s nice to meet you, Grayson,” he smiled, and she decided right then that Connor was obviously the nicer one of the two.

“It’s nice to meet the both of you. Uh, Oliver’s just right over here,” she said, showing them the way into the living room, where Oliver was still standing, clutching onto Findley, who had her hands all over his face.

He gave them a nervous smile, turning around his daughter so she was now facing Delilah and Connor. “Well … ‘ere she is,” he said, his voice a bit high pitched and Grayson had to stifle a laugh.

Delilah gasped as she strolled over, taking Findley out of his arms. “Oh, she looks so much like my Fiona!” she cried, and instantly, Grayson felt uncomfortable. “Connor, doesn’t she look just like our Fiona?”

“Aye, she does,” the man agreed as he walked to stand beside his wife.

Oliver cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, er … I’ll let yeh two spend some time wif ‘er. She’s not a fusseh babeh, realleh … she just likes teh be 'eld and she’s just started to grab fings, so she might try and pull yeh ‘air. Um … uh … oh!” He ran across the room, grabbing her stuffed dinosaur out from the toy chest that sat below the mounted TV. “She loves Dino and likes teh play wif ‘im,” he said, placing the green toy on the couch.

Although Grayson’s heart was melting at Oliver’s actions, she felt like he was rambling and stepped towards him, grabbing his hand. “I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. O’Dowd remember how to take care of a baby, Oli, and we’ll be right in the kitchen if they need anything. Come on,” she smiled, pulling him away from the older couple, who were still gushing over Findley like proud grandparents. Grayson sat Oliver on a stool and poured them each a cup of tea.

“They looked … ‘appeh,” he said before taking a sip of the hot drink.

Grayson nodded her head. “And a bit sad.”

Oliver’s eyes fell to his hands, licking his lips. “Yeah, I noticed that, too.”

“But that’s expected of them, Oli. Findley really does look a lot like Fiona.”

“I know,” he said sadly. “I see Fiona everehtime I look at Finn.”

This was the first time Oliver had ever shared this with Grayson and she was surprised. “You’ve never told me that.”

“’S not somefin’ I realleh like talkin’ about, Gray.”

“Why not?”

“Because it ‘urts!” he said, slightly raising his voice before realizing what he was doing and quieting down. “It ‘urts that I get teh be ‘ere wif Finneh, and Fiona doesn’t. I mean, she carried ‘er around fer nine bloodeh monfs, and didn’t even get teh meet ‘er.”

Grayson placed a hand over his, trying to bring him some sort of comfort. “You can’t feel guilty, Oli. That’s not fair to you. What happened to Fiona was nobody’s fault; no one saw it coming until it was too late. Don’t go beating yourself up over it,” she told him.

He sighed, nodding his head. “I’ll try and keep that in mind.”

She gave him a gentle smile. “Good, now drink your tea.”

Oliver chuckled. “Yes, mum.”

When thirty minutes had gone by, Oliver and Grayson made their way back into the living room, seeing that Findley was laughing at a face Connor was making.

“’M sorreh, did yeh want more time?” Oliver questioned, his footsteps coming to a halt.

“Oh, no, that’s fine, Oliver,” Connor smiled. “We’re ready to talk if you are.” Oliver nodded his head and walked to the couch opposite of them, taking a seat. Grayson did the same and crossed her legs, pulling down the shorts she was wearing. “I know that we haven’t been here been for Findley like we should have, and we’re deeply sorry for that. You have to understand, though, that losing our only daughter wasn’t easy. When Fiona first found out she was pregnant, she was happier than I had ever seen her be before. Her mother and I couldn’t understand why, as you two had obviously broken up at that point, but it quickly became clear to us that that didn’t matter to Fiona.

"She’d always loved babies since she was little a little girl. The first time she was around one, I think, was when she was seven and her cousin Ingrid had her first child. Fiona loved that little boy and would do anything she could to help take care of him.” He stopped talking for a moment, clearing his throat. “When Fiona found out she was having a little girl, she couldn’t wait for the day little Findley came into the world so she could spoil her,” he said, taking one of Findley’s hands into his palm. “None of us could have imagined the outcome, though, and that leaves us where we are today. Now, Delilah and I would love to know our granddaughter and help out with whatever expenses we can. Are there any objections you have to that?”

Oliver quickly shook his head. “No, sir. I’d realleh love fer Findleh teh grow up knowin’ ‘oo yeh are. ‘M sure she’ll ‘ave lots of questions about Fiona that onleh yeh two can answeh.”

Delilah nodded her head with a smile. “I’m glad we can all agree then. Now, there is something I’d like to address …”

“Sure,” Oliver said, nodding for her to go on.

Delilah’s eyes darted to Grayson. “We’re not daft enough to expect you not to date, Oliver, but we do want you to be careful of who you bring around Findley. Now, I’m sure you’re a great girl, Grayson, but how serious are you and Oliver? I would hate for Findley to grow attached to you if this isn’t something serious.”

Grayson’s cheeks went ablaze in a blush and Oliver gave an uncomfortable laugh. “Gray and I aren’t togetheh, Mrs. O’Dowd. She’s meh best friend and she’s been ‘elpin’ meh wif Findleh since I brought ‘er ‘ome,” he explained.

Delilah seemed to relax at this. “Oh, well, we should be thanking you then,” she smiled. “However, just for future reference, please take what I’ve just said into consideration, Oliver. Children get easily attached to people and I know that Fiona is … gone – but I’d still like for Findley to know who her mother was once she is old enough to understand. No one can replace a mother,” she said.

Oliver nodded his head. “Aye, I agree.”

Findley began fussing in Mrs. O’Dowd’s arms and Grayson stood, figuring Oliver had been handling this conversation well enough on his own. “I’ll take her for a bottle,” she offered.

Delilah nodded her head and pressed a kiss against Findley’s cheek, leaving lipstick on her skin. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.”

Grayson walked quickly to the kitchen and cradled Findley with her left arm as she used her right to prepare a bottle. She set the bottle to warm and rocked the little girl gently until the microwave beeped. After testing the formula, she pressed the nipple into Findley’s mouth, and the hungry baby eagerly took to sucking. Her little hands tried to wrap around the bottle, but couldn’t exactly grasp the plastic. Grayson laugh and leaned her back against the counter, gazing down at her.

“You’re too adorable for your own good, Finny,” she cooed. “Both you and your daddy,” she laughed. Grayson heard the front door opening, but paid it no mind as she continued talking to the baby. “You’re going to grow up to be beautiful, and give Oliver a heart attack with the boys.” Findley’s cheeks rounded as she smiled. “You understand that, huh?” she cackled. “I guess you’re going to be a smart one, too. Little Findley Marie Sykes is gonna do it all.” Grayson was only slightly aware of the footsteps coming her way and when she looked up, she almost crouched back in fear from the deathly look Oliver was giving her. “Wh-what’s wrong?” she asked, stumbling over her words. His jaw clenched and unclenched a few times, his nostrils flaring. Oliver could be truly intimidating when he wanted to be. Without saying a word, he snatched Findley from her arms, and the bottle dropped to the floor, making her cry. “Oliver!” Grayson gasped. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“She’s not yours!” he bellowed loudly.

“What?!”

“Findleh’s not yours, Grayson! Yeh aren’t ‘er mum!” he shouted, which caused Oskar to come into the room, barking back and forth between them.

His harsh words and tone made tears prick Grayson’s eyes and she could feel her chest tightening. "I - I know I'm not her mom, Oliver," she stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you acting this way?"

“Yeh were lookin’ at ‘er the way I do! The way a parent looks at their babeh and yeh ‘ave no right teh! She’s neveh goin’ teh be yours, Gray!”

Grayson shook her head, not believing that he was being so cruel. “Fuck you, Oliver! Just … fuck you!” she yelled and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was holding Findley, she was pretty sure she would have slapped him. She snatched her purse from the counter and walked to the front door. As she laid her hand on the doorknob, she gave him one last look. “No apology is going to make up for what you just said to me. I hope you know that,” she told him before opening the door and walking out, letting it slam behind her.