Chapter Text
Acacia Grayson had just found out she was pregnant with twins when she also found out that her husband had a child with another woman, a little boy, barely three years old. She wondered what he looked like and wondered if her children would share a resemblance.
“How long have you known?” Acacia asked Sheff when he got home from work. She sat in his office, in his chair, her hands on her stomach. She was only three months pregnant, but it was already starting to swell, evident that she was having two babies instead of one.
“Known what?” her husband asked. “Did something happen at your ultrasound?”
Something had happened. She’d burst into tears at the knowledge they were having twins, and her mother had told her about the boy shortly after the lab tech had left.
I should have told you sooner, her mother had said, but I didn’t know how.
Acacia had wondered why her mother had found that moment, that moment of pure, unadulterated happiness, the time to tear a hole in her perfect world. But if Acacia thought about it, she was glad her mother had told her. She could have had better timing, but Acacia wanted to know this. Her husband had a son; her babies had a big brother that they deserved to know.
“You have a son,” Acacia said.
For a moment, Sheff blanched, but just as quickly, his expression smoothed over, then turned to confusion. “You know the baby's gender already?”
“No,” Acacia said. “You have a son with Skye Hawthorne.”
At that, Sheff stopped. He sighed, unbuttoning his cuff sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows. Acacia watched the way his throat worked as he swallowed.
“Skye Hawthorne was a mistake,” he said.
Acacia shook her head. “We’re not talking about Skye Hawthorne. We’re talking about your child. How long have you known?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Honestly? Not long.”
Acacia raised an eyebrow. Sheff came closer to her, dropping to his knees in front of her.
“Tobias Hawthorne just released a picture with all four of his grandsons a few months ago, after the youngest one was born. Apparently, Skye was busy.”
“Don’t say it like that,” Acacia snapped. Was she a fan of Skye Hawthorne? Not particularly, especially not after the revelation that the woman had slept with her husband, but she wasn’t about to place all of the blame on the younger woman. “You didn’t know before then?”
“No,” Sheff said.
“Why didn’t you come to me when you found out?” Acacia asked.
Sheff let out a laugh. “And say what?”
“That you have a son!” She twirled her wedding band around her finger, around and around and around, focusing on that rather than her husband on his knees in front of her. “We have to try to get some custody, partial, at least.”
The look on Sheff’s face was akin to as if he’d eaten something disgusting. “Why would we do that?”
Acacia stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Acacia, I don’t want that boy in our life,” Sheff said. “He was a mistake.”
“He is not a mistake,” she said vehemently. “The choice to cheat on me, yes, that was a mistake. But a child? He’s not a mistake. He’s a child, your child. And he’s a part of this family. He means something.”
Sheff shook his head the entire time Acacia was talking. “Please, Acacia, I just want to forget this happened. I never should have cheated on you. I hated Hawthorne, and I wanted to get back at him. The boy shouldn’t exist.”
Tears pricked Acacia’s eyes. “I can’t believe you’d say such an awful thing. Would you feel that way about these babies if something were to happen to us, if we were to divorce?”
“Divorce?” Sheff asked. Then, something else clicked. “Babies, plural? As in more than one?”
“We’re having twins, yes, but that’s not the point right now.” Acacia frowned. “I don’t like the man I see in front of me. I can’t reconcile him with the one I fell in love with.”
“Hawthorne would never let us take one of his precious grandsons,” Sheff spit out.
“Not take,” Acacia said. “Partial custody. Summers, maybe. We could have him a week a month until he starts school, then try for a weekend a month, or every other weekend. Where do they live again?”
“Dallas,” Sheff said, “but Acacia, I’m telling you, it would never work.”
“We’ll make it work,” Acacia said firmly. “This isn’t up for negotiation. If you don’t try…”
“If I don’t try, then what?” Sheff asked.
Acacia pursed her lips. “Then maybe we need to reevaluate our relationship.”
“You can’t be serious,” Sheff said.
“The man I love would never abandon his child, any child,” Acacia said. “Are you still that man?”
Sheff was right when he claimed that it would never work. Not that they didn’t make it work, as Acacia had stated, but rather, it was difficult. The Hawthorne’s had money, billions more than Acacia’s family did, but Acacia had spirit. She wasn’t afraid to make things nasty, and she threatened as much. If they couldn’t have partial custody, then she’d let it leak to the media that Skye Hawthorne had had an affair with a married man and refused to let him see his own child, the result of that affair.
Despite the fact that they were arguing over her son, Skye Hawthorne never once showed up to court. It was Tobias Hawthorne, sometimes the sister, Zara, but never Skye. Acacia wasn’t sure whether she should be relieved or not. On the one hand, it infuriated her that the woman wouldn’t fight for her own baby or take any interest in his well-being at all. On the other, Acacia really didn’t want to come face-to-face with the woman her husband had cheated on her with. Skye was younger than the two of them, yes, but she wasn’t so young that she had no idea what she was doing, Acacia firmly believed that.
Yes, going to court dredged up a lot of feelings that Acacia didn’t expect. As the months passed, and her stomach grew with her twins, she worried that the whole ordeal was putting more stress on her than she should have. But when she saw a picture of Grayson Hawthorne for the first time—truly, an on-the-nose name—she couldn’t help but fall in love. He was a beautiful toddler, with the blond hair and steely gray eyes of his father. There was the saying of a face only a mother could love, but Grayson had a face the world had to love.
Sheff was still on the fence as they went through the proceedings, but Acacia still firmly believed that Grayson had a right to know his father. And, maybe more than that, he deserved to know his baby sisters. Juliet and Savannah, she and Sheff had decided. They were still two months away from being born, but she could feel each kick every day she went to court, and she knew they were fighting right alongside her.
The day that the court awarded the Grayson’s partial custody of Grayson Hawthorne, Acacia cried. It was only the second time she’d cried during her pregnancy, strangely bereft of emotions for some reason. Perhaps she’d put everything she’d had into fighting, and now, it had all come to fruition. They set a date to meet Grayson—they’d start small with meet-ups first, no need to overwhelm the three-year old—for the next week, and Acacia left feeling victorious.
The next week passed quickly, and soon enough, a black car was pulling up to the Grayson household. Acacia hurried, as best she could, out to the front while Sheff followed reluctantly behind.
The driver’s side door opened, and a man stepped out, going to the back to open the back doors. After a few moments, he stepped back, and a boy of about nine stepped out, holding a toddler in his arms. He walked confidently, coming forwards until he was a few feet away from the Graysons'.
“Hello, sir, ma’am,” the boy said. “My name is Nash Hawthorne. I’m Grayson’s older brother.”
“Hello, Nash,” Acacia said, smiling softly at him. She noted the way he held his brother, the protective stance he assumed. “Is there anyone else with you?”
“No, ma’am,” Nash said. “I hope you don’t mind my being here. The old man thought it would be better if Grayson had someone he knew.”
“Of course,” Acacia said. She agreed, but she couldn’t help but wonder why the old man himself couldn’t have come. Or even, say, the boy’s mother. Anger began to boil within her at the thought, but she pushed it down. This nine year old didn’t deserve her ire. As she thought it, the toddler in his arms started to move, apparently waking from a nap.
Acacia’s breath caught as Nash’s attention turned to his brother.
“Hey, Gray,” he said softly. “Sleep well?”
The little blond boy nodded sleepily, his face buried in his older brother’s neck. Acacia’s heart melted. She knew the love of a mother, had known it since she’d found out she was pregnant, but she’d never expected to feel such fondness for a child who wasn’t her own.
Except he is, Acacia thought fiercely, in a way, he’s mine, too. I’ll never let him feel like he’s not.
Nash seemed to notice Acacia’s gaze and nudged his brother.
“Hey, there’s some people here for you to meet,” Nash said, shifting his brother in his arms. And as soon as Grayson’s gray eyes met Acacia’s own, she was well and truly gone. This little boy was hers as much as her girls would be.
She smiled and moved closer, bending down as much as she could with her swollen stomach. “Hello, Grayson,” she said. “My name is Acacia.”
Grayson blinked owlishly at her, his expression shy.
Acacia threw a glance back at her husband to see him frozen, standing exactly where he’d been when they’d come out. She nearly hissed at him to move his ass closer, but he closed the distance before she could say anything.
Sheff crouched down in front of Nash, a hand hesitantly reaching out to Grayson. He dropped it just shy of touching the boy’s cheek. “Hi,” he breathed. After a moment, when it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything else, Nash took over.
“That’s your daddy,” Nash said, “the one I’ve been telling you about.”
Grayson stared at his father curiously. He tugged at Nash’s shirt in a silent signal for the older boy to set him on his feet. Once he was upright and steady, though still turned in towards Nash, the little blond raised a hand to touch Sheff’s hair, though he said nothing.
Sheff huffed out a laugh as Grayson’s hand landed on his head. “Yeah, we have the same hair.”
“Would you like to come inside?” Acacia asked, tears pricking her eyes at her husband and his son—their son. “We have cookies and lemonade. And some toys.”
“We’d like that, wouldn’t we, Gray?” Nash asked. Grayson nodded, but Nash gave him a look.
Grayson turned back to them. “Yes, please,” he said, his voice high and sweet and angelic. Acacia was pretty sure if you looked up a picture of an angel in the dictionary, Grayson’s face would be it.
Sheff moved to his feet and turned to Acacia. She smiled widely, and for the first time since the whole ordeal started, he smiled back.