Three Family Photos

Two days later, I walk into a restaurant near my apartment for lunch.

Brooke's son comes running.

"Natalie!"

Grant is just inside the entrance with all three women and their kids, all dressed in matching outfits.

He doesn't look the least bit surprised to see me.

He says it, almost amused.

"You checked out of the hotel and moved right near everywhere we're visiting."

"Still gonna tell me you weren't waiting for me?"

"I live around here."

"You put this restaurant on the itinerary yourself."

He pulls out a chair.

"If you're done making a scene, sit down. You're coming home with me after lunch."

Brooke smiles.

"Since she's here, why don't we let Natalie join us? The kids love her."

Grant doesn't even hesitate.

"No."

"It's the kids' first vacation."

"You won't be comfortable with her sitting here."

I turn to leave, but Lauren's son wraps his arms around my legs.

"Natalie, feed me."

Lauren pushes his bowl toward me.

"He's always been so good for you. Just feed him before you go."

I don't take it.

Grant nudges the bowl closer.

"It's one meal. Don't take it out on the kid."

He first put this child in my arms the month I lost my baby, telling me a little one around might help me feel better.

I gently loosen the boy's grip.

"He can ask his mom or his dad from now on."

Grant's frown deepens.

He forwards me a flight confirmation.

"If you don't want to stay, go home. I'll be back Sunday, same as always."

I look at him.

"That's not my home anymore."

He laughs, but before he can say more, a photographer approaches with an assistant.

"Mr. Callahan? We're ready for the family photos."

Grant glances at me, then follows him outside.

I find a table and order lunch alone.

Through the restaurant's floor-to-ceiling windows, I watch them pose by the river.

Brooke takes her son's hand and stands beside Grant, who puts an arm around her shoulders.

Once they've had their picture taken, Vanessa hands Grant her daughter.

By Lauren's turn, the youngest boy is already riding his shoulders, and she presses close, her arm through his.

The photographer keeps calling out instructions.

"Dad, move a little closer to Mom."

"Look at the camera, sweetheart."

All three children call him Daddy, and he answers every single time.

When I was pregnant, I once asked if we could take our first family photo before the baby arrived.

He'd rested his hand on my belly.

"Let's wait until the baby's here."

My baby never got to be born.

We never took that photo.

I pay for my meal and walk outside.

Brooke waves me over.

"You're Grant's wife. Don't you want a picture too?"

Grant is straightening his son's collar and doesn't even look up.

"She's not their mother. Why would she be in the family photos?"

I look at him.

"Just because I don't have a child with you doesn't mean I never will."

"Once we're divorced, I'll have my own life. My own kids."

His hands go still, and he looks up.

His voice has an edge now.

"You don't mean that."

"You're not divorcing me, and you're sure as hell not having another man's baby."

"What gives you the right to say that?"

Lauren turns to him, startled.

"You never told her?"

She looks back at me.

"He had the doctor remove both your fallopian tubes during the abortion."