Chapter 16 Dean
DEAN
Dad Company (But Sometimes Good Advice)
James Marson: How to keep from feeling the crushing fear of something going wrong?
Comments:
Robert Colt: You don’t. Hope this helps.
Oliver Brian: It happens, but worrying about it won’t change anything. Try some meditation and deep breathing.
Dean Briggs: You could also take a step away and get your head on straight.
Robert Colt: Don’t know if that’s a good idea, Mr. Insecure Attachment.
When Grace burst into tears, all I could do was stare. This entire time, she had been taking every shock with ease. Or at least it seemed that way. I had a feeling she wouldn’t show me if she was struggling.
Until now.
I didn’t usually do well with women crying. A few had shed tears when I’d reminded them that I didn’t do relationships. And I would leave before anything got messier.
But this wasn’t because of me; Grace was crying because of our baby. And something was wrong.
Walking away wasn’t an option here. It hadn’t been since I found out. So, my normal reaction was out the window. I had to do what felt right.
My legs carried me to her before I could stop myself.
Instead of keeping my distance and trying to stay friendly with her, I immediately pulled her into my arms. She let me do it willingly. And if she wasn’t fighting me and trying to keep distance as well, then this wasn’t good news.
I despised more than anything that I didn’t know everything that was going on with her. I hadn’t had a chance to ask her about her appointments or what tests she had gotten. I knew nothing, and I hated that. She was growing my child, and what was I doing?
I held her in my arms and let her cry. I worked through my own pounding heart and tense shoulders, and I gave her time. But the second she told me what was going on, I wasn’t going to let it go. Whatever it was, it was getting fixed. Either by me or by some doctor that I would find.
There were reasons I shouldn’t be thinking this way, but as she was crying into my shirt, I couldn’t remember them. In fact, I didn’t care about them.
“I-I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be sorry,” I replied softly. “Just tell me what happened.”
“Glucose test. I failed it.”
I went through all of the information that I’d learned since finding out she was carrying my baby.
I’d spent every single night since staring at my phone, trying to memorize everything about pregnancy.
The glucose test was to make sure that she didn’t have gestational diabetes.
But wasn’t it later in pregnancy? I knew that they added two weeks before implantation, so she should only be about sixteen weeks. Maybe closer to seventeen.
Was I going to ask her any of that? Absolutely not. The last thing she needed was for me to be mansplaining how her own pregnancy worked.
“Was it the one hour or the three hour?” I asked.
“Since when do you know anything about pregnancy and glucose tests?”
“Since the beginning. I’ve been doing some reading.” Then she pulled away, eyes wide. “I’m doing the bare minimum a father should do,” I reminded her. “I know I didn’t give you a good first impression, which is why I’m here trying to make it better.”
“You are.” She wiped at her eyes. “It’s still more than I’m used to, though.”
“Raise your expectations, Grace.”
“I will once I figure out if I have gestational diabetes or not.” She let out a huff of laughter that didn’t sound very humorous.
“And to answer your question, it was just the one hour. But the way the receptionist made it sound, it just . . . terrified me. I didn’t know for sixteen weeks.
There were so many things I could have messed up. ”
“Gestational diabetes is mostly genetic, just like PCOS is. I highly doubt you did anything to cause this.”
She blinked at me. “How much research did you do?”
“I like to be prepared.”
For a second, all she could do was stare at me. “Well, I can’t say it’s a bad thing because you’re saying exactly what I need to hear.”
“So, what’s the next step?”
“The three-hour test. I go tomorrow morning.” She let out a sigh that turned into a groan.
“That means the shop will once again be closed, which will raise questions. I can’t eat breakfast, and I have to make an hour-long drive to Knoxville where I’ll drink a disgustingly sweet drink and then sit for three hours. It’s going to be so fun.”
I knew what I was going to do before she was finished talking. Wren was going to be pissed. Mostly because I couldn’t work tomorrow.
“I’ll take you.”
“Why would you do that? Don’t you have work?”
“Yeah, but my boss is also your friend, so I might as well take advantage of that a little, don’t you think?”
“She doesn’t know.”
“I could just say it’s something else involving you. That I’m working on your house or something.”
She bit her lip and I hoped that meant she was considering it. “It’s gonna be so boring, and we’re not even gonna get the answers tomorrow.”
“I’ll pack fun things to do.”
“But—”
“Grace, if you can look me in the eye and say that you would prefer to do this alone, I’ll drop it.” Something told me that she would not be able to do that. I had a feeling I knew exactly the kind of person she was, and with that knowledge, I needed to make sure that I could help her.
“I’d prefer to go alone,” she said as her eyes met mine. Her voice betrayed her. It wasn’t steady like it usually was, and each word sounded like it hurt coming out.
“I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow.”
Grace let out a long sigh. “Can’t you at least try to believe me?”
“Put on a better act next time. Sorry, but you’re not meant to be an actress.”
Her cheeks were pink. “That’s rude.”
“I call it like I see it. So, does eight work?”
Grace crossed her arms. “We can actually leave closer to nine.”
“Thank you for seeing sense.”
“I think I hate you.” She muttered it, but there was a ghost of a smile on her face.
“You can hate me and be well taken care of. I’m sure you’re great at multitasking.”
Grace was waiting on the porch, sitting on the fixed step, staring out into the distance.
She was dressed for comfort, and yet, even from where I parked the truck, I could tell she put thought into her outfit.
The gamble of a Tennessee February was on, and some days were warm and incredible while others were cold and frigid.
This was one of the cooler days, and even though Grace was in leggings, she had on a hat that covered her curly black hair, boots, and leg warmers that were . . . kind of cute.
At first glance, anyone would think that she was completely fine. But as she got in the truck, I could see that her eyes were still tinged red, just as they were yesterday when she’d been crying.
“Rough night?” I knew I should have called her. I had a feeling that she wasn’t okay after I left yesterday.
“It’s not the worst I’ve ever had, but admittedly, I didn’t sleep very well.”
“You need your rest,” I said, even though sleep had been hard for me too.
“I would have slept if I could.” She sighed, not even attempting to convince me I didn’t need to go today. When I was still in denial about how she was doing, I figured I would have to fight her on every step of this journey. If she was giving in, then things weren’t great.
“We can get coffee after. I’ll make sure it’s under three hundred milligrams.”
“Stop talking dirty to me.”
I let out a chuckle before her words sank in. I tried to push them out of my mind as I backed out of the driveway, but I had to turn to make sure that there was nothing behind me, and that gave me the perfect view of Grace.
After months of trying to hunt down a woman that would interest me, I’d wondered if my dick was dead. But looking at her, even when I was worried to death and she was half asleep in my passenger seat, my mouth went dry.
I wanted to memorize the planes of her face, the colors her skin turned with each emotion she felt.
I’d gone so many years not needing anyone romantically. I never even had the urge. That part of me had been locked away so tightly that he would never escape, and it was good for both him and me.
Now he was fighting back.
Turning my eyes away from her, I focused on the road. Eventually, this spell would be broken. Either by me or by her.
The drive went by mostly in silence. I thought Grace was asleep and I wasn’t about to wake her up. If she indeed was, then she needed it. And I needed the silence. I had a feeling we would be spending most of the day together. We’d get to know each other pretty quickly.
She only stirred when we hit Knoxville, the stop-and-go traffic causing the engine to grumble in protest.
“Sorry, the truck’s a little loud.”
“No, I don’t mind it. Sometimes things feel a little too quiet.”
I’d felt that before, back when I still lived in Mom’s house. Thankfully, that emptiness had been filled by the city. Even if they weren’t noises I liked and cared about, they were still there. I had a feeling, though, that Grace wouldn’t follow in my footsteps.
“Many people have asked me why I’ve never upgraded. The truth is, I like the noise too.”
She smiled over at me, and it was very tempting to take my eyes off the road and stare right back. I was glad I didn’t, though, because somebody cut me off and I had to slam on the brakes.
“I could do without that.” Grace’s voice was flat.
“I’m used to it. Everyone here has somewhere to be. And some of them don’t care about who they step on to get there.”
Grace’s lips pursed. “It’s fine if I’m visiting, but it gets old when I have to spend a lot of time in the city. This kind of stuff doesn’t happen in Strawberry Springs.”
I had to press my lips together to keep from saying something stupid. Because I was pretty sure that this thing definitely happened in Strawberry Springs.
“I hear what you’re trying not to say,” Grace said with a laugh. “And I need to amend my statement. This type of thing does happen in Strawberry Springs, but usually you can complain about it in the Facebook group or to their face and they’ll apologize.”