Confessions Of The Deadbeat Mom He Never Stopped Loving

My best friend was dead set on setting me up with her brother, raving about how he was handsome, loaded, and even knew how to cook.

Unable to withstand her constant nagging and pleading, I finally agreed to go to her family's house.

But before I could meet him, I ran straight into her other brother.

My friend, Gemma, quickly pulled me aside. My older brother is gorgeous too, but its a shamehe was seriously messed up by a horrible woman.

I heard that woman had his kid and then just took off, leaving him to raise the baby alone. Poor guy.

I didn't pay it much mind until halfway through my blind date, when a tiny child suddenly came barreling toward me.

The little girl grabbed my dress and yelled, Mama!

I looked up, and standing right in front of me was the deep-feeling, single-dad brother Gemma had just been talking about.

It was my ex, the one I had dumped three years ago.

Which meant I was, in fact, the horrible, deadbeat mom my best friend had been so passionately badmouthing.

Gemma Harrington and I were the ultimate hustle buddies.

We were both broke.

We ate pre-made meal kits, shared a cramped apartment, and our wardrobes were entirely sourced from Amazon Prime deals and Target clearance racks. To meet our performance metrics, we practically lived at the office, routinely working until midnight.

Life was manageable, if unremarkable, until the day Gemma suddenly announced she wouldn't be coming to work anymore.

I assumed shed been fired and was already gearing up to march down to the boss's office to fight for her.

Instead, she leaned in, her eyes wide with a secret, and said, I struck oil.

It turned out Gemma was the long-lost daughter of a ridiculously wealthy, old-money familythe Harringtonsand her biological parents had finally tracked her down.

Overnight, Gemmas bank account had ballooned from four figures to seven.

She was fiercely loyal. Her new-found wealth didn't change our friendship; she spent every day dragging me to expensive lunches and ordering fancy cocktails.

Anya, this feeling of getting something for nothing is absolutely divine, she gushed.

It really is true that you don't feel bad spending money you didnt actually earn.

Seriously, quit your job. Ill just find you a rich husband.

Gemma was impulsive, and I didn't take her seriously.

But three days later, she looked at me with an unnerving seriousness.

Ive vetted the candidates, and Ive decided my younger brother, Toby, is perfect for you.

Fearing rejection, she launched into a serious analysis.

First, hes handsome, tall, and has a great temperamentmeeting all the basic requirements.

Second, hes loaded, works out regularly, and he cooks. Major bonus points.

Most importantly, hes my brother. If he ever treats you badly, Ill personally break his kneecaps.

So, she slapped the table, delivering her final verdict, You are having a blind date with my brother this weekend.

I stared at her, utterly aghast. Oh, absolutely not.

What is absolutely not about it? You are my best friend. You are far too good for any man on this planet.

When she reached for her phone to call him, I frantically grabbed her hand.

After a brief struggle, I decided I had to tell her the secret Id kept locked away.

Wait, you need to hear this first.

I had a child a few years ago. With my ex-boyfriend.

The story of Grant Harrington and me was an absolute clich.

While I was studying abroad in London, I saw him across a crowded room at a university mixer and was instantly, hopelessly smitten.

I began a relentless, months-long pursuit.

Grant was naturally aloof and reserved; it took me six agonizing months just to get close to him.

The day I finally confessed my feelings, he reached up to his ear, took out a cochlear implant, and held it out to me.

I have a congenital hearing impairment. Are you sure you want to be with me?

Seeing my stunned silence, he gave a sad, self-deprecating smile, the look of someone who had faced this rejection before, and turned to leave.

I quickly grabbed his sleeve. Im sure.

I didnt care about his hearing; I was genuinely, powerfully in love with him.

I looked up, meeting his eyes, and firmly repeated my question: Can we date, Grant?

He stopped, turned back, and his previously shadowed eyes suddenly brightened. Yes. We can.

Grant was incredibly awkward when it came to romance, but he was a fast learner.

He quickly went from not understanding women at all to mastering their internal logic. He went from timid kisses to making me breathless, my thighs going weak beneath me.

I would lie curled up against him, feeling the hard knots of muscle beneath his thin shirt, and subtly swallow my spit.

My attraction to Grant was intensely physical. Every time I was near him, I felt an almost urgent need to explore.

But for some reason, Grant was always incredibly restrained. Sometimes, hed be visibly aroused, body temperature blazing, but he would always pull back before we crossed the final line.

The turning point happened on Christmas Eve.

I had dressed up specifically for our Christmas date, but just before I left the apartment, an old mentor from my grad program, who was passing through London, called and asked to meet.

He was flying out the next day, so I had to push back my date time and meet him quickly for a simple dinner.

I hadnt told Grant. I assumed he was waiting for me at our apartment, but when I looked up, he was standing at the entrance of the restaurant.

He stood leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, thin lips pressed into a tight line, silently watching us as we spoke.

After I said goodbye to the mentor, Grant quietly took my hand and led me back to our apartment.

I tried several times to talk to him on the way, but he never responded. I assumed hed forgotten his implant.

The apartment door opened. Inside, a huge Christmas tree dominated the living room. Neon lights twinkled, and underneath, the rug was covered in presents and wrapped gifts.

Before I could take it all in, he had pinned me against the wall.

Grant trapped my waist with one hand and toyed with the delicate strap of my dress with the other, looking down at me.

You look beautiful tonight. Was this outfit for your mentor?

You were laughing and talking throughout dinner. Are you two close?

Thats when I realized: he wasnt deaf, he was furious.

I tried to explain, but before I could get a word out, his kiss descended. It was commanding, aggressive, and so forceful that it stole my breath.

We stumbled onto the sofa beneath the twinkling Christmas tree. The atmosphere in the room was suddenly thick with heat and desire.

I fully expected Grant to do what he always did: stop just before the crucial moment and retreat to the bathroom for a cold shower.

But this time, he pulled me closer and retrieved a small, carefully wrapped box he had prepared.

Inside was a simple, yet stunning diamond ring.

He slipped it onto my finger with a nearly reverent air. Then, he pressed his forehead against mine, his hand resting on the zipper of my dress.

Anya, Ill be responsible for you. Ill marry you.

So, can we?

His eyes were flushed with a feverish intensity, his thick eyelashes hiding an ocean of surging emotion. I couldn't say no.

I leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth. Yes.

I remember that night didnt stop until dawn. Eventually, I was sobbing and begging for him to stop, just calling his name.

He deliberately removed his cochlear implant, looked at me, and said innocently, Anya, I cant hear you.

The cold metal of the ring on my finger pressed against his spine.

At the time, I thought it was just a ring, and I didn't realize the massive scale of the decision he had just made to promise me marriage.

Not until I posted a picture of us holding hands on social media.

A single, jarring comment caught my attention.

Thats a Harry Winston diamond! Girl, are you dating a billionaire?

I had never imagined Grant Harrington came from a dynastic, old-money family.

And I certainly hadnt expected the ring on my hand to be a six-figure diamond.

It was too much. I couldnt bear the weight of it.

I tried to give the ring back, but he just smiled at me. Theres no taking back a gift, is there?

The sunlight caught his plain white T-shirt. That deceptively simple shirt was from an obscure European high-fashion brand and was worth three months of my rent.

The gap between our families was insurmountable. It made me want to retreat.

I asked him, Will your family force you into an arranged marriage?

Grant took my hand and looked me in the eye. Ill refuse. I told you I want to marry you, and I wasnt joking.

Our time together in London was pure.

After crossing that final line on Christmas, Grant dropped his lifelong restraint. He loved removing his implant, pulling me into every corner of the apartment, and allowing us both to fully drown in the moment.

We always used protection. But the night before we flew back to the States was particularly intense, and in the heat of the moment, the condom broke. Neither of us noticed until it was too late.

Three months later, I found out I was pregnant.

At the same time, the Harrington family pressure hit Grant. His father, Mr. Harrington, demanded he agree to an engagement or be completely disowned.

I had already prepared myself for the breakup, but then Grant showed up on my doorstep, dragging his luggage.

Outside, the rain was pouring down. He was soaked through, but he was smiling. I came for you, Anya. Im here, and Im never leaving.

Youth is often defined by a dizzying, reckless kind of love. Grant chose to be disowned just to be with me, and I chose to have his baby.

Throughout my pregnancy, he was utterly devoted, attentive to my every need.

But the money well had run dry, and the privileged son was plunged into the mud of the real world.

He never complained, but I knew he hated wearing cheap Target clothes and couldnt stand the crowded subway. While his peers were learning to run the family empire, he was stuck with me in a tiny, cramped rental apartment.

When I was seven months pregnant, he lost his expensive cochlear implant. Because the original model was too costly, he had to buy a cheap replacement, but the quality was so poor he struggled to hear anything clearly.

Once, while out buying groceries, a few teenagers surrounded him and mocked him for being "the deaf guy."

In that moment, Grant stood there, utterly humiliated. Hed been raised in luxury; when had he ever faced such cruelty?

Watching him, my heart twisted in my chest. I realized for the first time that our stubborn choice to be together might have been a mistake.

Three months later, I gave birth to a daughter.

While Grant was still lost in the pure joy of new fatherhood, I asked him for a divorce.

I had already planned my reason.

I told him I couldnt live with his hearing disability, and I wanted a normal man. I didn't want to be tied to a deaf man for the rest of my life.

The words struck him like a physical blow. His body swayed; he looked utterly shattered.

Even so, he struggled to regain his composure and whispered, his voice trembling, Then Ill work harder. Ill earn enough to buy the best implant, Ill be normal. Just dont leave me, please?

He begged and pleaded, clinging to me for a long, painful time, but I remained unmoved.

Finally, he held the baby up to my face and asked, What about her? You dont want your daughter, either?

No. I dont.

Shes too much trouble for me to raise. You take her.

Mrs. Harrington had promised me that if I broke up with Grant, he would be welcomed back into the family, and the baby would be properly cared for by them.

Grant stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. Then, he laughed, tears welling up in his eyes.

Anya. When we started, you said you didnt care about my disability. If you couldnt accept it, why did you lie to me?

Was it fun to make a fool out of me?

Our breakup was messy and cruel, but I got what I wanted: we separated. Grant took our daughter and returned to the Harrington estate, and I moved to a new city to start over.

Before I left, Mrs. Harrington offered me a large check as "compensation."

I refused it.

I was young then, and in my twisted logic, accepting the money felt like profaning the purity of our failed relationship.

I never contacted Grant again, and I never saw my daughter.

When I told Gemma this story, I deliberately blurred the names and simplified the events.

After the initial shock, she threw her arms around me. Its okay, Anya. Its all in the past.

Having a child doesnt matter. Youre single now, and you can absolutely find love again.

Not all rich families are so old-fashioned. My parents are pretty open-minded; you don't need to worry.

I quietly confessed, The main thing is, I haven't moved on from my ex

Then all the more reason to meet my brother! Youre not getting back together with your ex, so you should use my brother as a stepping stone to move on.

Once Gemma fixed on an idea, she became relentless. From that day on, every time she saw me, she badgered me about the blind date.

Please, just meet Toby once.

Hes definitely your type. If you dont like him, well leave. Deal?

Worn down by her constant soft-and-hard lobbying, I finally gave in.

Fine. But we are only meeting. That's it.

The Harrington estate was in Greenwich, a truly elite suburb outside the city.

The idea of going there initially made me nervous. Grants family lived in that area.

But then I reasoned, the metro area is huge. Without an intentional link, how could I possibly run into him?

Gemmas biological parents were indeed wealthy; the mansion had acres of manicured gardens.

On the walk up to the house, Gemma prattled on about her younger brother, Toby.

Distracted, I glanced over and stopped, looking at a man sitting on a veranda in the distance.

His back was to me, showing only a sliver of his profile. I couldnt see his face clearly, but something about him felt deeply familiar.

Gemma followed my gaze. Oh, thats my older brother, Grant.

Honestly, hes super handsome too. I thought about setting you up with him, but his love life is way too complicated.

Naturally curious, I pressed her. Complicated how?

Apparently, he dated a total deadbeat, and they had a kid. But the woman took off right after the baby was born, ditching him and their daughter.

My poor brother was heartbroken, so he threw himself into his career, swore off love, and has been raising the kid solo.

The story sounded eerily familiar. If Gemma didnt have the Harrington surname, I would have sworn she was talking about Grant.

After we passed the veranda, the man disappeared from my view. I looked back, wishing I could see more, and wondered silently if Grants career had taken off like this Grant's had.

In the mansions back garden, a table was set with pastries and refreshments. Gemmas brother, Toby, was already waiting.

Im telling you, Toby might not be as brooding as Grant, but you are going to love him, Gemma promised, right before we sat down. I was skeptical.

But when I clearly saw the man sitting across from me, I froze.

He was handsome, yes. Clear-eyed, high cheekbones, thin lipsdefinitely my aesthetic.

But he was also three-parts Grant, especially the gentle, soulful look of his eyes.

This was bizarre. Was I thinking about Grant so much that I was now projecting him onto every attractive man?

I fought down the ridiculous notion and was about to introduce myself, but Tobys eyes widened, and he spoke first.

Youre Anya?

I nodded, assuming Gemma had given him my name beforehand.

But when I confirmed it, he just stared, saying nothing.

Gemma slapped the table, giving her brother a furious, disappointed look. What are you doing? A guy has to take the lead!

Look at Anya. Isnt she gorgeous?

Toby pursed his lips and slowly nodded.

Gemma pressed on. Is she your type?

Toby didnt want to answer, but under Gemmas silent, intimidating pressure, he hesitantly mumbled, Mmm.

Then introduce yourself and get on with the date! Gemma complained.

After an awkward silence, Toby managed a smile that was more painful than a frown.

Gemma, Sis, she cannot date me. Absolutely not. Never in a million years.

Whats absolutely not about it? Shes only three years older than you, and she has a kidI already told you that! You said you didnt mind!

Gemma was starting to get angry. Dont go back on your word in front of my best friend!

I dont mind her past, Toby stammered, his face bright red as he looked at me. But but Big Brother will mind.

I was completely confused. Just as I was about to ask why, a small child came running toward us.

She had pigtails, wore a flowered dress, and looked about three years old, perfectly round and plump.

I generally didnt like kids, but she was so adorable that I felt a strange sense of closeness to her.

I thought: My child with Grant would be about this age now.

This is my brother Grants daughter, Wren, Gemma said, trying to scoop Wren up in a hug.

But Wren ignored her, ran straight past, and threw herself into my arms. She wrapped her small arms around me and squeaked in a sweet, clear voice:

Mama.

My body instantly froze.

Gemma quickly tapped the girls head. Sweetie, you cant just call everyone Mama. This is my friend; you should call her Auntie.

Wren tilted her small face up, tugging at my shirt, and excitedly retorted, She is Mama! Shes my Mama!

I saw Mamas picture! I know its her!

Looking up at her now, I finally noticed: she looked exactly like my baby pictures.

All the blood in my body turned to ice. I looked at Gemma. What what is your brothers name?

Before she could answer, a mans voice came from behind me.

Wren, come to Papa.

The voice was familiar, yet I hadnt heard it for four long years.

I turned back slowly. In the warm autumn sun, a man in a crisp white button-down shirt was walking toward us.

In the intervening years, he had lost some weight, and he had definitely gained a harder, more mature edge.

It was Grant Harrington.