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It had been a few weeks now since Henry and Charlotte had told Grace and her brothers that two new babies would be joining their family in just a few months.
And yes, she was calling them Henry and Charlotte again. There was no point in calling them Mama and Papa when in just a few short months, they wouldn’t be her Mama and Papa anymore. Not when they had two new daughters on the way. They would have no use for her anymore.
Why would they need Grace when they had not one, but two, daughters of their own blood?
So, Grace had been making herself scarce over the last few weeks in an attempt to make it hurt less when they inevitably decided they didn’t want her anymore. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened after all, since the Cartwrights didn’t want her and abandoned her.
And that was without two new babies on the way.
That’s how she came to be a Fairchild in the first place. Even if she wasn’t going to be one anymore.
She was hiding out now in her bedroom. Her perfect bedroom. Mauve painted walls with hand-stamped designs of moths and spiders, her Queen Anne bed with the black-and-white bedding; the matching vanity desk with brushes and jewelry scattered artfully in a chaos that could almost be organized. Grace had spent months hand-picking every piece of her room only two years ago, when she decided she had grown out of the princess pink walls.
The Fairchilds had been nothing but supportive when she did. Henry had made the stencils for the walls and Charles had-begrudgingly-placed her on his shoulders to help her stamp the moths and spiders. Matthew had helped to pick out the paint colors, because she couldn’t just have a room painted black. He wouldn’t allow that as her big brother and he wouldn’t hear of it when she laughed and said he was only eight months older than her. And Charlotte, she’d picked out the softest beddings and sheets, the fluffiest feather pillows. And even a weighted blanket embroidered with her name. All for her comfort.
She loved this room. It was hers. And it would be taken away from her in an instant.
She wouldn’t be shocked if they gave her room to one of the babies for the nursery.
It wasn’t fair. None of this is fair.
But it wouldn’t hurt. Not if she gave herself and the Fairchilds space before the babies came. She was expecting it, so there wouldn’t be the sudden heartbreak like there was when her birth parents died or when the other Cartwrights abandoned her.
She wouldn’t let it. She’s not a little girl anymore. She’s not little Gracie Cartwright who cried over everything, not anymore.
Grace would survive, she always did.
There was a knock on the door and Grace quickly swiped at her eyes, willing her tears to go away before she responds.
“Come in?” she said, almost questioningly. Her voice sounded off to her own ears.
An unruly blonde head poked around the doorframe. One of her soon-to-be former big brothers. Matthew.
“Mom wants to know if you’re coming to help decorate the nursery. We’re starting to paint and Charles said he’d help you put the stars on the ceiling. Willingly, if you believe it.” Matthew sounded as he always did lately, incandescently happy. His tone was almost as golden as his hair.
Grace couldn’t look at him. She didn’t want to put stars on the ceiling or pretend to play happy family when she’s on her way out the door.
She was the only one who still called Charlotte and Henry, Mama and Papa, with Charles and Matthew usually sticking with Mom and Dad.
They’d outgrown the titles. She hadn’t. Despite wishing right now that she had.
“And Dad wants your opinion on the paint, he said you would know more about the colors than I would which is incredibly ru-are you crying, Gracie?” Matthew stopped talking, fully coming into the room and neglecting to close the door. She chose to focus on that instead of his pause. "Grace?" His voice was closer now, his green eyes no longer laughter-filled.
Grace was the only "Fairchild" without those green eyes. Henry has green eyes and so do Matthew and Charles. No doubt the babies would have green eyes too. Another thing that set her apart from them.
Matthew was sitting on the bed now, she could feel the mattress dipping down. "What's going on, Grace?"
"I'm not crying."
"Yes, you are. Now tell your big brother what's going on."
"You're only eight months older than me, Math."
"Still your big brother. Now," he tucked some of her hair behind her ear. Just like Charlotte always did when she was upset. "can you tell me what's going on?"
She couldn't get the words out fast enough. But it was clear Matthew hadn't heard them when he told her to speak up.
"They're going to love me anymore, once the babies come." Grace was looking down at her hands as she said it, picking at the skin around her nails.
"What do you mean by that, Grace?" Matthew was confused. That much was evident.
She fought the urge to roll her eyes at him. How could he be so stupid when it was so obvious?
"Because they're going to have two new daughters, obviously!" she couldn't help but snap at him.
"When they adopted you, they didn't love me any less, did they, Grace?" he said, still sounding confused.
Grace finally turned to actually look at her brother. "That was different."
"How?"
"You're not a daughter Matthew and you're their pup. Henry carried you, just like he carried Charles and he's carrying the twins. I'm not actually their pup. And now that they're having two new pups, daughters, it's more obvious than ever."
Matthew was quiet for a few moments. "I don't see how that's obvious. Not at all."
Grace laughed, it tasted bitter in her mouth. "I'm not theirs, Matthew. Angel, how can you be so dumb?"
"I promise you are their pup. I don't know how else to tell you." Matthew got up off of her bed. "But I think I'm going to go get Mom and Dad, Gracie. You need to talk to them about this."
"Wait, no, Math, don't!" she called out, moving to get off of the bed and after him. She couldn't bother Henry and Charlotte with this. Not when they were so happy. She couldn't do this to them.
But just as quickly as Matthew had left, a familiar redhead poked through her doorway, just as Matthew had done minutes earlier. But it wasn't Henry, like she expected; but Charles. He looked concerned, probably at her outburst and at Matthew's storming out. It was an odd look for him.
She loved Charles, he was her brother. But they were different from her and Matthew. He was eight years older, an adult and living in his own flat. Charles had his own life outside of them. He was fifteen when she had come to live with them. Too old to care about the seven year old girl who his parents just adopted out of nowhere. Not to say he was a bad big brother, because he wasn't, more…neutral. He didn’t necessarily try unless it helped him in some way. But it wasn’t his fault, in Grace’s opinion. There was just too much of a gap between them.
"Grace? What's going on? Why are you and Matthew fighting?" he asked, staying firmly in the doorway.
"We aren't fighting. Please go away, Charlie."
"Charlie? Hmm, must be serious."
"It's nothing."
"Nothing?" Charles raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Since when are our parents, Charlotte and Henry, and not Mama and Papa?"
She said nothing and just went back to picking at her nailbeds.
"Or when did you decide you weren't their pup anymore?"
"I never expected you to lie to me, Charles. I'm not their pup, you can say it. I’m just their placeholder while they wait for their real daughters to arrive. They have no biological connection to me, no scents or deep connections. I’m not their pup. I'm nobody's pup. Nobody's baby girl. You can't lie to me. I know what I am. And I know you do too. Everybody does." she said, not bothering to wipe her tears. It was useless.
Charles shifted, somewhat uncomfortably. He wasn’t the comforting type. More the type to offer awkward condolences and an odd shoulder pat. It took him a moment, but he at last stepped into Grace’s room, but he didn’t come and sit on the bed like Matthew did.
“I may not be an alpha or an omega, and I can’t smell your distress or scent you or give you anything that will make you believe me. But I can say this,” he moved closer to the bed, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. “Biology or not, you’re my sister. You’re Matthew’s sister. And you’re Mom and Dad’s baby. Biology doesn’t equal love.” he then turned toward the door way.
Another redhead peaked over the corner. It was Henry. She knew he had to be listening in, she could smell him from a mile away. His regular scent had a milky film over it, the same way all omegas did when they were pregnant. And if his scent didn’t give him away, then the bump did. Henry wheeled into the room, almost cautiously. His bump was large and rounded, and very active, always a hand sticking out or a foot kicking. Henry couldn't feel it, but he always said he imagined it must tickle. He had his hands on the bump, like he always did, but what was absent was the smile he typically had when doing so.
Grace couldn't look him in the eye.
He wheeled closer to the bed and tried to hoist himself up onto the bed, as he had done since she was a little girl. Charles helped him, since it was harder with the extra weight to do it himself, Grace knew.
"You can go now, Charlie. I'd like to talk to your sister alone for a tick." Henry said, once he was settled on the bed next to her, though he wasn't touching her. Charles left the room and Grace scooted farther into her pillows, drawing her knees up to her chest and placing her head on them.
Henry was staring at her. Grace could tell he was fighting not to touch her or scent her, as he'd done her whole life with the Fairchilds.
"Gracie." was all he said before Grace looked up and tears started bursting from her eyes. She didn't know what exactly made her break, the way he said her name or the look in his eyes when he came into her room. She just couldn't stop crying. Henry didn't hug her, the way he normally would in this situation. He was giving her space and it only made her cry more.
"Gracie, I think we should talk. I know you might not want to, but I think it'll help, little love. Tell me what's going on so we can fix this.”
Grace couldn’t look at him. Not when he sounded so earnest. Not when she knew how childish she would sound. “Why do you have to have the babies?”
And just Matthew and Charles before him, she could tell that her father was confused at her words. But he still, he took them in stride.
“What do you mean by that, sweetheart?”
“Why do you have to have the babies? Am I not enough?”
“Oh, Gracie, no. No, no, I mean yes, you are enough. But no, these babies aren’t going to make your mother and I love you any less.” Henry seemed distraught at the very notion that Grace felt she wasn’t wanted.
She wondered how he’d feel if she knew she’d felt like that since her birth parents died.
“But I’m adopted. I’m not the same as Charles and Matthew and the babies. I’m not yours like they are.” she said, though it was more of a mumble.
Henry considered it for a moment before starting to talk. “I’m going to tell you a story, Gracie. About a little girl left at the Crown Prosecution Service and how she stole my heart, even when she didn’t mean to. You see, I had lost a daughter before and I couldn’t believe that someone would just abandon their little girl, it seemed impossible to me. How could you love someone so much and just give them away? I never understood that.
“And then my wife decided we would bring this little girl into our home and into our hearts. And I loved her instantly. My baby girl. My third pup. It didn’t matter that I didn’t carry her, I loved her anyway.”
Grace finally looked up at Henry and saw him staring at her with so much love it was most overwhelming. “Biology doesn’t make a family, Gracie, love does. And I promise you, that nothing in the world will change how much I love you, or how much your mother loves you.”
And that was all Grace could handle before she jumped into her father’s-her Papa’s-arms as tight as she could with the bump-her sisters-in between them. Papa hugged her back just as tight and pressed kisses to the top of her head, scenting her and making her feel warm and safe.
“And besides,” Papa whispered in her ear. “You’ve been around longer and we might not even like the new ones, we don’t even know them yet.” This caused both of them to break into giggles. “Now, I think we should let your Mama in, she’s been hovering thinking we haven’t noticed.”
Mama was visible in an instant, cheeks flushed red as she all but ran towards the bed where Grace and her Papa were. “I’ve done no such thing.” she came and sat on the other side of Grace, wrapping her arms around her where Papa’s weren’t.
They were both scenting her now, bathing her in that warm, comforting feeling that only parents could give. She was sorry she had distressed them both so much, it had never been her intention.
“We love you, Grace Penelope Fairchild. Don’t forget that.” her mother whispered to her as she pressed a kiss to her temple.
Grace couldn’t do anything but nod. She didn’t quite believe them right now, not when she was in this state.
But she would. One day.
Right now, however, she was just content to be held in her Mama and Papa’s arms, feeling her baby sisters kick against her arm.
And that was fine with Grace.