Page 49 of Princess

“Probably good for the human race, to tell you the truth. Since no one much is having babies anymore.”

He chuckles at this. Then reaches out and pulls me closer to his side, under the crook of his arm. “You could definitely do better than me for the dad.”

“What?” My whole body stiffens at this until I make it relax. “No way. You’d be a great dad. You’d just maybe need to work on smiling a little more.”

This time he laughs for real and tightens his arm around me. “I guess. I’d do the best I could. I’d take care of you. Both of you. I’d never leave you stranded.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” I’d rather have him stick around because he loves me, but I’d never dream of doubting his commitment and responsibility toward a child. And his child’s mother.

In all this time, for more than five years now since the day he showed up at my school, I’ve never had a single doubt that Grant would and could take care of me.

It’s just that I want to take care of him too, and he still doesn’t know how to let me.

“You all right otherwise?” he asks in a different tone. “I came way too soon just now. You want me to get you off?”

“No. I’m good. Getting kind of tired, if you want to know the truth.”

“Yeah. We got to try to put together a plan tomorrow. Not much more of this waiting. Try to get some sleep.” He’s still holding me against him but not as tightly now. It’s warm and close and comfortable, and I snuggle against him.

I try to stay awake because I want to see when he falls asleep. I want to see and feel him sleeping.

It doesn’t work. It’s been a long day in a long week in a long year in the aftermath of a global disaster.

I fall asleep in just a few minutes, so I don’t get to see Grant sleeping after all.

9

The following day,more reinforcements arrive.

Cal and Rachel, who the others talked about yesterday, show up with a truckful of volunteers they collected along the way. Cal is exactly what I would have expected. His age could be anywhere between thirty and fifty, and he gives off rough, unfriendly mercenary vibes.

Rachel, however, is young and small and dark-haired and absolutely beautiful. I assume she’s his daughter since he treats her with dismissive entitlement, and she often looks annoyed by him. She’s not warm and friendly like Mack or confidently outgoing like Faith, but I kind of like her anyway. She’s interesting. Deep. Like there’s a lot going on beneath the surface.

In that, she reminds me of Grant.

By late afternoon, Jackson has sorted through the New Haven volunteers who will join us in taking back the bunker, and we all gather in one of the outbuildings to formulate a plan.

It’s clear almost immediately that Grant and Jackson have already worked out the details of a plan, and this meeting is primarily to review it and assign roles.

It makes sense. There are twenty-one of us. That’s way too many people for a productive brainstorming session, not to mention actual decision-making. But still… If Grant has known all this time what we’ll be doing, it would have been nice if he’d told me.

I’ve asked him more than once how we’re going to manage such a difficult feat, and he’s always brushed it off, saying we have to wait until everyone gets here to decide.

The realization that he’s known all this time and simply not told me hurts. Maybe it’s petty, but it does. I was standing next to him when we gathered, but he’s moved to the front with Jackson, and I gradually slip toward the back.

Rachel is standing alone, watching silently and probably thinking all kinds of things beneath her passive demeanor. That’s what I should do too. I’m not in charge of this. I wouldn’t have any idea how to formulate a strategy. This isn’t what I’m good at, and that’s fine. There are plenty of others here whoaregood at it. I’m happy to just do the job they tell me to do.

Even with this resolved in my mind, I still don’t like that Grant has been so clearly keeping me out of this.

“Sounds like this could work,” Rachel murmurs to me after the specifics of the plan have been laid out. “It’s smart.”

I think so too, although I’m not equipped to evaluate strategy effectively. Rachel looks like she might only be seventeen years old, and she still seems to know more about all this than I do. “Yeah,” is all I say.

“So he’s your man?” Rachel nods in the direction of Grant, who’s matter-of-factly answering someone’s question about weapons.

My cheeks warm slightly. I wish the perfectly natural question didn’t always make me feel so self-conscious. “I… uh, I’m… It’s kind of… complicated.”

Fuck. Is it possible for me to sound more immature and clueless?

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