Page 45 of Saving Grace
“Nothing.” I rolled my eyes. I was not about to start a fight with him, not over her and especially not when he seemed to be itching for one.
“Exactly.” He taunted, before walking around his desk and taking a seat behind it. He effortlessly popped the button of his suit jacket as he leaned back in his chair.
“Have a seat, Grace.” He motioned towards the chair.
I shook my head, “No I’m perfectly fine standing.”
“Have a seat, Grace.” He lowered his eyes and his tone.
I had to breathe through my annoyance as I took my seat, childishly flopping into the chair. I looked at everything but him. There were no pictures or anything on the beige wall. No pictures on his desk. No personal touches. Just a huge black leather sofa and a cherry wood desk that took up most the space in the large room. It didn’t feel like Atticus in there.
A long moment passed before he spoke again
“So. How are you, all well?” He gave me a fake smile that I returned.
He knew I was well. I had healed weeks ago. My doctor had told Tank and I know Tank had told him. “No more pain.” I answered amicably. I didn’t want to exchange pleasantries. I just wanted to see my son.
“He’s not here Grace.” he volunteered as if reading my mind.
I frowned.
“You kept looking back towards the door.” He answered my unspoken question.
“I thought that's what you brought me here for, to see him.” I spat.
“We can discuss you seeing him later, I promise. But first, we need to discuss what you’re going to do to right the wrong you committed against me.”
He’d kept my child away for weeks making promises to bring him by. I was over his promises.
Then the rest of what he said registered to me. My eyes bugged out, they had to be as wide as the floor to ceiling length windows that sat behind him.
“The fuck you mean? He's mine I should be able to see him when I want.”
The tick above his eye started jumping. I knew I was making him angrier than he already had been when I walked in. I switched tactics, changed my tone.
“I understand why you’re angry and that you're in your feelings about me leaving, and want to know the circumstances as to why I left. But I really couldn’t stay, Atticus. You just have to take my word for that.”
He leaned back in the chair, pinning me with an angry stare.
“Why should your word mean anything at all to me now, Grace? Unless you’re going to tell me exactly why you left. And who you think tried to kill you?”
He waited a beat to see if I would respond.
I remained silent.
“Nothing to say. No? Okay, fine. Besides, I don’t think there’s anything you can tell me that would explain why you kept my fucking child away from me for seven years.” He sneered.
I stared straight ahead, allowing him to browbeat me without a word. My feelings didn’t matter anyway. Not then, not when I was away from my child. I’d take whatever he put out just to get back to him. He went on a five-minute rant I barely listened to just to circle back to what he’d brought me there for. Revenge.
“Since you can’t tell me why, you can tell me what you’re willing to do to make it right.”
I thought about the choices he’d given me.
Could I tell him his grandfather was the reason I stayed away so long?
Would he even believe it?
I didn’t think so. He seemed so far removed from the boy in the past, who would have believed me if I told him chocolate was raining from the heavens.