Grayson
Born to be loved.
My pointer finger trembled as I traced the cursive caption on the photo frame holding a picture of a beaming Elaine staring down at a newborn baby—Claire.
I was in her house. I couldn't believe she'd asked me to stay. Sure, it was all about Claire, the reveal, something I hadn't seen coming, but it didn't matter. She'd asked me and I was here. With them. There was no place I'd rather be. Even if I couldn't sleep.
Not when being so close to them had me dreaming while awake—about a life I hadn't imagined for myself until now.
After tossing and turning on the couch, I stood and somehow found myself in front of this picture wall.
There were many more pictures on it. Each with a heartfelt caption that plucked at my heartstrings like a mournful ballad, reminding
