I have asked Brid to look in on Grace from time to time—just brief check-ups, as the humans call them, just to be sure all is well with the baby. She says that both mother and child are healthy, and that the bond between them will be true.
As for their bond with the father, that remains to be seen.
I have kept a close eye on Con in the past few days, and I have hope that he will be able to do as Grace wishes. The most hopeful sign was that he reached out to Michael the day after he met with Grace.
Michael was sorely disappointed in his friend, and he has not tried to contact Con since the day of the wedding. Still, there was a long and true friendship between them, so when Con called him and asked to come and see him, Michael agreed to meet him.
They met at Michael’s home this afternoon, which was not perhaps the wisest choice. Michael’s wife Amanda opened the door, and when she saw Con, she slammed it in his face. Con stood there on the step for several minutes, overhearing snatches of a heated argument between Michael and Amanda, who is clearly still staunchly on Grace’s side. Finally, however, the door opened again, and Michael motioned for Con to come in. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I kinda feel like you had it coming, brother.”
“You’re right, I did.” Con entered the house, glad that Amanda was now nowhere in sight. He heard the reserve in Michael’s tone, but was reassured by his use of the word ‘brother.’ “I’m just glad you’re letting me in.”
“Yeah, well, I figured you’d drag your sorry ass back around sooner or later.” Michael shut the door and motioned for Con to follow him into the back room. It was an odd place to meet, being a guest room that Michael and Amanda rarely used, but it was the only room on the first floor with a door to close. Con understood this and sat down on the bed, rubbing his palms on his thighs.
“Okay,” he said to Michael. “Let me have it.”
Michael leaned back against the door, his arms folded. “What do you want me to say? That you’re a dick? That I introduced you to the sweetest woman I ever met and you royally fucked her over? That I don’t know whether to be madder at you or myself? All true, my friend.”
Con looked up at this. The ‘friend’ was spoken wryly, but there was still some truth to it. There was still a connection between these two men.
Michael sighed and let his hands fall to his sides. “Look, I know you, man. You don’t get to be friends with someone for as long as we’ve been friends without knowing them back to front. And that means that I know the bad stuff too. I knew you were a skittish bastard when it came to women. I knew you don’t have a fucking clue what you want. I guess I just hoped you’d man up and get over it if you had someone who was worth it all. But you let Grace down, and you let me down, too.” He met Con’s eyes. “I’m ashamed of you, man.”
Con nodded, his throat tight and eyes itching. “I’m ashamed of me, too.”
“Well, there’s that at least.” Michael hesitated, then came and sat down beside Con on the bed. They didn’t speak for a moment.
“I need you to forgive me, Michael,” Con said, looking down at his hands rather than at his friend. “I need you to be my friend again.”
Michael looked up, hearing something in Con’s voice. “Why?”
Con rubbed his eyes. “Because I’m coming back to town, and everyone I know is going to hate me. I need at least one person who doesn’t. I’m not saying you have to be on my side,” he added, “because I’m not stupid enough to think I deserve any support that should be going to Grace. But…” He swallowed and spoke carefully, but his voice still broke on the next words. “I gotta have at least one person. Just one.” He buried his face in his hands.
Michael studied Con’s profile. He sighed, long and low. “You idiot,” he said. “I’ve been pissed at hell and wanting to give you an ass-kicking—and I’m not saying that it’s not still coming for you. But I don’t hate you.”
Con lifted his head and looked at Michael. I could see that for the first time in weeks, he was feeling the warmth of support and friendship. I had not realized how very lonely his own cowardice had left him, though I suppose that is often the way of cowardice.
Shaking his head, Michael got to his feet and paced to the window. “So what? You’re going to come back and try to get Grace back? I don’t know if I can support that, to be honest.”
Con hesitated, wondering if he had any right to tell the truth. But he soon realized that he had to tell someone. “Grace is pregnant.”
That made Michael turn around. Con nodded in response to his wide-eyed frown, and Michael swore. “You fucking idiot,” he said.
However much he wanted to protest this, Con knew that he was still on weak ground. “I know. But it’s done now, and Grace says she’s keeping the baby. She says she wants me to be around, and so I’m going to be. But she’s still mad at me and everyone else is going to be mad at me…and I get that, I do, I just…” He rubbed his jaw and swore himself, getting up to pace.
Michael sank into a chair in the corner of the room, considering all the implications. He watched Con for a moment.
“You’re doing the right thing,” he said at last.
Con laughed, an edge of hysteria on his voice. “For a change.”
Michael looked up at his friend for another moment. Then he looked around the room. “Well,” he said. “If you need a place to crash while you’re looking for an apartment, you know you’re good here.”
Con nearly fell over in his relief. He looked at Michael with a grateful smile.
Then he remembered and glanced at the door with a kind of nauseous unease.
“Don’t worry,” Michael said, getting to his feet. “I’ll talk to Amanda.” He stepped forward and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Welcome back,” he said, and in his voice and his eyes were his approval for Con, his pride that this time, Con was stepping up.
Con threw his arms around his friend. They embraced for a moment, and forgiveness was given and received without a word spoken at all. Then Michael slapped Con on the back and said something about a drink, and they went out of the room, joking and laughing as they have in the past.
So Con has the support he wanted, and perhaps more than he deserves. Perhaps not. For Grace’s sake, at least, I hope that it will be enough.