Forever an Eaton. Rochelle Alers
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were meant to be broken when you meet the “right” woman.
Griffin dated a lot of women, had had several long-term relationships, yet at thirty-seven he still hadn’t found the “right woman.”
“Aunt Lindy, Uncle Griff!” Sabrina, older than her sister by two minutes, came bounding down the staircase. “Sorry, Gram,” she mumbled when she saw her grandmother’s frown.
Her grandmother had lectured her and Layla about acting like young ladies—and that meant walking and not running down the stairs and talking quietly rather than screaming at the top of their lungs.
Belinda held out her arms, and she wasn’t disappointed when Sabrina came into her embrace. Easing back, she stared at her niece, always amazed that Sabrina was a younger version of herself. She used to kid Donna by saying that her fraternal twin daughters’ genes had been a compromise. Sabrina resembled the Eatons, while Layla was undeniably a Rice.
“How’s my favorite girl?”
Sabrina rolled her eyes at the same time she sucked her teeth. “How can I be your favorite when you tell Layla that she’s also your favorite?”
Belinda kissed her forehead. “Can’t I have two favorite girls?”
Sabrina angled her head, and her expression made her look much older. Not only was she older than Layla, but she was more mature than her twin. She preferred wearing her relaxed shoulder-length hair either loose, or up in a ponytail. It was Layla who’d opted not to cut her hair and fashioned it in a single braid with colorful bands on the end to match her funky, bohemian wardrobe. Both girls had braces to correct an overbite.
“Of course you can,” Sabrina said. Pulling away, she went over to Griffin. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “I like your suit.”
The charcoal-gray, single-breasted, styled suit in a lightweight wool blend was Griffin’s favorite. He tugged her ponytail. “Thank you.”
Sabrina gave her uncle a beguiling smile. “You promised that Layla and I could meet Keith Ennis. The Phillies will be in town for four days. Please, please, please, Uncle Griff, can you arrange for us to meet him?”
It was Griffin’s turn to roll his eyes. Keith Ennis had become Major League Baseball’s latest heartthrob. Groupies greeted him in every city and his official fan club boasted more than a million members online.
He’d considered himself blessed when the batting phenom had approached him to represent him in negotiating his contract when he’d been called up from the minors. The Philadelphia Phillies signed him to a three-year, multimillion-dollar deal that made the rookie one of the highest-paid players in the majors, and in his first year he was named Rookie of the Year, earned a Gold Glove and had hit more than forty home runs with one hundred and ten runs batted in.
“I’m having a gathering at my house next Saturday following an afternoon game. You and your sister can come by early to meet him, but then you have to leave.”
“How long can we stay, Uncle Griff?” asked Layla, who’d come down the staircase in time to overhear her uncle.
Belinda shot Griffin an I don’t believe you look. Had he lost his mind, telling twelve-year-olds that they could come to an adult gathering where there was certain to be not only alcohol, but half-naked hoochies?
“Your uncle and I will have to talk about this before we agree whether an adult party is appropriate for twelve-year-olds.” She’d deliberately stressed the word adult.
Layla pouted as dots of color mottled her clear complexion. “But Uncle Griff said we could go.”
“Your uncle doesn’t have the final say on where you can go, or what you can do.”
“Who does have the final say?” Sabrina asked.
Belinda felt as if she were being set up. Unknowingly, Griffin had made her the bad guy—yet again. “We both will have the final say. Now, please say goodbye to your grandmother. I’d like to get you settled in because tomorrow is a school day.”
Most of the girls’ clothes and personal belongings had been moved to her house earlier that week. Belinda had hung their clothes in closets but left boxes of stuffed animals and souvenirs for her nieces to unpack and put away.
“We’ll see you for Sunday dinner, Gram,” Layla promised as she hugged and kissed Roberta.
Roberta gave the girls bear hugs accompanied by grunting sound effects. “I want you to listen to your aunt and uncle, or you’ll hear it from me.”
“We will, Gram,” the two chorused.
Belinda lingered behind as Layla and Sabrina followed Griffin outside. “Why didn’t you say something when Griffin mentioned letting the girls hang out at a party with grown folks?”
Roberta crossed her arms under her full bosom and angled her soft, stylishly coiffed salt-and-pepper head. She wanted to tell her middle daughter that becoming a mother was challenging enough, but assuming the responsibility of raising teenage girls, who were still grieving the loss of their parents, and had just started their menses and were subject to mood swings as erratic as the weather, would make her question her sanity.
“I wouldn’t permit anyone to interfere with me raising my children, so I’m not going to get into it with you and Griffin about how you want to deal with Layla and Sabrina. Not only are you their aunt but you are also their mother. What you’re going to have to do is establish the rules with Griffin before you tell the girls what’s expected of them.”
Frustration swept over Belinda. Her mother wasn’t going to take her side. “I can’t understand what made him tell—”
“There’s not much to understand, Belinda,” Roberta retorted, interrupting her. “He’s a man, not a father. What he’s going to have to do is begin thinking like a father.”
“That’s not going to be as easy as it sounds. Layla and Sabrina will spend more time with me than with Griffin. Although he’s agreed to take them on the weekends that doesn’t mean he’ll have them every weekend.”
“Griffin Rice is no different than your father. As a family doctor with a private practice he was always on call. If it wasn’t a sprained wrist or ankle, then it was the hospital asking him to cover in the E.R. Dwight missed so many Sunday dinners that I stopped setting a place for him at the dinner table.”
“Daddy was working, and there is a big difference between working and socializing.”
“You can’t worry about Griffin, Lindy. Either he will step up to the plate or he won’t. At this point in their lives, Sabrina and Layla need a mother not a father. Once the boys start hanging around them, I’m certain he’ll change. Your father did.”
Belinda wanted to tell her mother that Griffin Rice was nothing like Dwight Eaton. With Griffin it was like sending the fox to guard the henhouse. And, if Griffin didn’t take an active role in protecting his nieces now, then she would be forced to be mother and father.
“Let’s hope you’re right.” She hugged and kissed her mother. “We’ll see you Sunday.”
Roberta nodded. “Take care of my girls.”
“You know I will, Mama.”
Belinda walked out of the house to find Griffin waiting for her. He’d removed his suit jacket, his custom-made shirt and tailored slacks displaying his physique to its best advantage. Sabrina and Layla were seated in the back of the car, bouncing to music blaring from the SUV’s speakers. Belinda fixed her gaze on a spot over Griffin’s shoulder rather than meet his intense gaze.
There was something about the way he was staring at her that made Belinda slightly uncomfortable. Perhaps it was his earlier reference to her face and body that added to her uneasiness. The first time she was introduced to Griffin Rice she was stunned by his gorgeous face and perfect body, but after interacting with him she’d thought him arrogant and egotistical when he boasted