I put him down, and he runs back to the kitchen. “Mom is here, Grandma.”

“I didn’t know you were going to be here?” I say, and it’s almost as if I step away from her in case someone is watching, which is ridiculous.

“Yeah, your mom called and thought it would be good to drop by for dinner,” she says. Looking in the kitchen, she then turns to me. “I heard about the grocery store.”

“Shocking,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s only been three hours.” Taking off the hat on my head, I toss it on the coffee table and go sit on the couch.

“How bad was it?” she asks, and I just shake my head.

“She thinks we’re married,” I say, and she takes a step back. “I know. That’s what I thought, too.”

“Why would she think we’re married?” she asks, sitting down on the couch and facing me. “Who told her that?”

“I haven’t spoken or seen her in eight years, so I have no idea why she would think or say that.”

“It’s safe to say every person knows that I’ve had a child out of wedlock,” Savannah says, laughing. “I almost had the ‘A’ tattooed on my chest to make sure if you didn’t know, you know now.”

“I don’t know.” I pull my hair on the top of my head. I keep it longer than I did when she left. I want to say it’s because it’s easier to style, but the fact is, she loved my hair long.

I look at Savannah, and I’m brought back to the day I went to see her.

I knocked on her door. I wanted to pound on it and break it down, but she answered right away. Her face was pale, her eyes almost sunken in, and her lips were white. “What’s wrong?”

“I have morning sickness,” she said and turned to walk back into her little apartment. She was the only eighteen-year-old I knew living on her own. Her mother took off as soon as everyone found out she was pregnant.

I closed the door behind me, and she sat on her worn couch. “I’m so sorry, Jacob.”

“Whose is it?” I asked, not moving from the door.

She looked down and then looked up at me. “Liam’s.” She said his name, and I just looked at her. “Don’t even go there. I know. I know. He’s a horrible person.”

“How the fuck did that ever happen?” I asked her, and she sobbed.

“He said he loved me,” she said, and I wanted to tell her that he didn’t love anyone but himself. “You can’t tell Beau.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I finally shouted at her, “do you know what you’ve done?” I know I shouldn’t lash out at her, but I do anyway.