No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Assess the situation. Grayson fell back on familiar thought patterns and took a step closer to the box. It was full of photographs. Dozens of them.
“And you?” Gigi asked him, picking up a picture of him at eight.
Martial arts competition. Photographer was somewhere in the crowd. Grayson continued his assessment and parted with one and only one word in response to Gigi’s question. “Yes.”
This made no sense.
No amount of assessing this situation could make it make sense. Sheffield Grayson had a safe-deposit box full of pictures of me. His throat tightened.
“I think we’ve seen enough.” Savannah went to flip the lid to the box closed, but Gigi was faster and held it open.
“No.” With her free hand, Gigi rifled through the box, down to the photos near the bottom. “You look about four in this one,” she told Grayson. Her voice cracked, but she didn’t stop. “Maybe two here?”
It was all Grayson could do to focus on her, not the pictures.
“That must be one of your brothers with you in this one,” Gigi continued, and then she pulled out one final picture and sucked in a sharp, audible breath. “Why does my dad have a picture of you as a newborn?” She shook her head, her lip trembling. “Why does he have all these pictures?”
Grayson didn’t let himself think too hard on either question, and he answered only the first, forcing his tone to stay even. “He must have bribed one of the nurses.”
In the newborn photo, his infant self was asleep in a hospital bassinet. His baby arms were swaddled to his sides. A hat had been pulled down over his forehead, obscuring part of his tiny, squished face.
“I thought you worked for my dad.” Gigi’s words managed to break through the wall of silence in his mind. “Or maybe even that you had it out for him,” she continued. “You gave me that warning and everything, but…”
Grayson had spent a lifetime practicing rigid control over his own emotions. Other people could afford to make mistakes. He couldn’t. Assess the situation and proceed accordingly.
“Why does my dad have a safe-deposit box full of pictures of you, Grayson?” Gigi pressed. “A box that isn’t even in his real name. It doesn’t make sense.”
It wouldn’t make sense to her—until it did. She would get there on her own eventually.
Grayson steeled himself. “Davenport is my middle name,” he told Gigi evenly. “My grandfather’s name was—”
“Tobias Hawthorne,” Gigi finished. “And the box was under the name Tobias Davenport. I don’t understand.”
Grayson’s heart twisted.
“Gigi, honey…” Acacia started to say, but Savannah didn’t let her get any further.
“Dad had an affair.” The older, taller, and more self-contained of the twins kept her voice as even as Grayson’s. “Before we were born. Right after Colin died. With Skye Hawthorne.”
Gigi went very still. Grayson had stopped noticing her tendency toward constant motion until suddenly, there was none. He saw the exact moment Gigi realized what Savannah was saying, the exact moment that every last piece fell into place for her.
“That’s a pretty name,” his normally bright-eyed sister said hoarsely. “Skye.”
Grayson swallowed. “Gigi…”
She whirled on him, stepping back from the table, back from the safe-deposit box. “You lied to me.” She shook her head, sending her curls flying. “Or maybe you didn’t, maybe you just avoided the truth like avoidance is your middle name—or your second middle name, I guess? Grayson Davenport Avoidance Hawthorne. It has a ring to it.”
“Breathe, Geeg,” Savannah said quietly.
Gigi took another step back, gave another shake of her head. She pushed her hair roughly out of her face with the heels of her hands. “You knew,” she told Savannah, and then she looked to Grayson, to Acacia. “You all knew. Everyone but me, and—oh dear lord, your name is Grayson.” She was talking far too fast for anyone to make a real attempt at interrupting her now. “Grayson Hawthorne.” She looked from him to Savannah. “And the two of you… No wonder you freaked out when I pretended we were hooking up! Ewwww. And I thought maybe you two…” She gestured between them. “Also ew.”
“I know this is a lot to take in,” Acacia told her daughter quietly.
Gigi held up a hand. “I just threw up a little. Right there in my mouth. Did Dad, like, have a secret family this whole time? Like, when we thought he was on business trips was he with his son?” Gigi scrunched her face. “And does anyone have a mint?”