“I am, buddy. Wake up. I want you to meet your grandparents.”
Riley turned in his father’s arms and took in the two older people in the room. Then in his sleep-laden voice, he asked, “Are you Mrs. Carville?”
“Yes, I am,” Ryan’s mother answered.
“My mother is also Mrs. Carville.”
Ryan’s parents exchanged a look. “Yes,” the woman said wryly. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”
• • •
Ryan was nervous about his parents meeting his new family. At the airport, he had guiltily apologized for letting them find out their only son had gotten married—and had a child—from the press. He’d left out the part where Kennedy was pregnant again and Riley had leukemia, figuring he’d let them adjust to one new fact at a time.
“She, um—” Ryan’s father stumbled over his words as he stared with amazement at Kennedy.
“Yes, she is black, and so am I. So is your grandson,” Rebecca cut in, the hostility in her voice shaking up the room.
“I didn’t mean to point out the fact that she’s black,” Ryan’s father defended himself.
Ryan wished someone would shoot him in the head. This introduction wasn’t going the way he had expected it to. “Mother, this is Rebecca Bailey and this is—”
“Kennedy Bailey. I know,” She piped up smoothly. “I’m Elizabeth and this is my husband Ryan Senior. You can call him Senior. We used to go to the same hair salon, Mrs. Bailey. I heard about your daughter’s…incident. My condolences on the passing of your husband.”
“You’ve got to love salon gossips. I assume you also heard about the birth of my—I mean, our grandchild,” Rebecca quipped. Ryan shrunk back from the accusatory glare Rebecca gave him.
“I did.”
“I have a grandmother already. But I guess I could have two. But my grandfather went to heaven. So I only have one of those. I drew you a picture,” Riley babbled cheerfully, cutting into the tension.
Kennedy stepped forward and handed him his picture. With a big smile, Riley wiggled until Ryan put him on his feet. He walked towards his grandparents and offered up his picture. “I hope you like it.”
“It’s very pretty,” Elizabeth chirped.
“Good job, buddy,” Ryan Senior said. In a too-loud stage whisper to Ryan, he added, “He’s a handsome boy, but what happened to his hair? Don’t you think a buzz cut is a little too old for him?”
“I thought mixed babies had beautiful curly hair?” Elizabeth dug her fingers into the tiny spike on Riley’s head, a frown on her face.
“It was falling out, so we had to cut it.” Ryan turned to face Kennedy, his eyes pleading for her to step in.
“He has leukemia,” Kennedy offered. The gasp and horrified looks on both their faces reminded him of the way she felt the first time she heard Riley was sick. “He finished his chemotherapy yesterday, and if everything goes well, he’ll get a bone marrow transplant in a few days.”
“Who’s his donor?” Senior asked, as he picked Riley up.
“I am, Dad.”
Ryan’s parents exchanged looks.
“But won’t that interfere with your career, son?”
Kennedy snorted. Of course, the man’s main concern would be his son’s football career and not his grandson’s health. “They are just taking part of his bone marrow, not one of his limbs. I’m sure he’ll still be able to throw a ball around after the procedure.”
“You see, Dad,” Ryan pulled Kennedy into his side. “My wife doesn’t care about what I do for a living. I’m not a football star in this house; I’m the guy who takes out the garbage.”
Sensing a deeper argument here that she was too tired to withstand, Kennedy interjected. “I should take Riley up to bed.”
“Okay. I’ll show Mum and Dad to their room.”
“But I don’t want to go to sleep. I’m not tired!” Riley tried valiantly to convince them, but the big yawn that escaped sold him out.
All of the adults let out chuckles, which diffused the tension in the room finally.
“Of course you’re not, buddy. Let’s go.”
• • •
“Thanks for letting my parents take your room.” Kennedy looked up as Ryan walked into his bedroom, two bedtime stories and a glass of water later.
“No problem,” she said, as she tugged at her nightshirt nervously and pulled back the covers, sinking into the bed. “I am only sleeping in here because I don’t need your mother grilling me in the morning. We already didn’t get off to a great start.”