12. Francisca
CHAPTER 12
Francisca
A s I slowly open my eyes, the TV playing on low comes into focus, along with Dayton’s long legs that are stretched out in front of me. His ankles are crossed and resting on the coffee table beside a mess of papers scattered over its surface. Not wanting to let onto the fact that I’m awake, I hold still and just soak in the moment.
This morning around nine, he showed up at my place, asking if I wanted to go get breakfast, and on our way home, he asked if I wanted to come up to his place to watch the show we started the other evening. Since I didn’t have plans and I really wanted to spend time with him, I agreed, so we picked up PJ and came up to his place. Into the fourth episode, he asked if I’d mind if he worked a little, and I said no, so he brought over a file and started reading through it while I lounged and watched the show—not exactly leaning into him… but also kind of leaning into him.
At some point, I must have fallen asleep and was so out of it that he was able to adjust me and place my head on his thigh without waking me up. I’m not sure what to think about him maneuvering me into this position, when he could have just tucked the pillow I was using under my head. It’s the same way I’m not sure what to think about him leaving me last night—with a soft touch of his fingers to my jaw and a kiss to my forehead.
I don’t want to read into things.
I shouldn’t read into things.
But it’s difficult not to think about what it might be like to be with him, to wonder if this could be the start of something more than us just becoming friends so that we can co-parent our child.
When my phone beeps three times in a row on the coffee table, I reluctantly sit up and reach for it while I push my hair out of my face. Seeing that it’s a string of messages from Matthew, I drop it back to where it was and turn to look over at Dayton. With his glasses on and his hair a mess, he looks like a sexy professor who has broken a million hearts.
“Everything okay?”
“It’s just Matthew,” I tell him, and he glares at my phone like if he could blow it up with just a look, then he would.
“What happened between you two?”
“Do you mean, why did we end up divorced?” I ask, and he nods.
“I couldn’t fake it anymore.” I drag my fingers through my hair as I lean back against the couch.
“Fake it?”
“Fake being happy… fake being in love… fake liking the person he had become or the person I was when I was with him.” I smile when PJ gets up and wanders over the top of Dayton’s lap to come to me. “We both changed.” I meet his intense gaze as I shift my fingers through PJ’s fur.
“Or maybe it was just me who changed. I wanted less, and he wanted more, but not more of the things that I think are important. He wanted more stuff —more money, a newer, fancier car, a bigger house—and a bigger role at his father’s law firm. And even though his ambition is something I admire about him, it started to consume not just his life but mine, and I began to resent him for it.” My smile is sad. “I knew that if I didn’t get out, then it wouldn’t be long before that resentment turned into hate, and I didn’t want to hate him.”
“You were together a long time.”
“We were.” I tip my head to the side as I study him. “How about you? What was your longest relationship?”
“I’ve never had one.”
“You’ve never had a relationship?”
“Nope.” He leans forward, placing the papers in his hand on the coffee table.
“How is that even possible?” He’s so sweet and attentive, and even when he didn’t believe this baby was his, he still treated me with kindness and respect. My mind is blown, and I can’t wrap my head around his answer.
“It’s just not something I wanted, and there was no point leading a woman down the path of a relationship when I knew I didn’t want to get married or have kids.”
“I guess that makes sense.” It’s sad, but it does make sense. It also makes me realize that I need to stop thinking this is something more than what it is. Just because he is now going to be a father, something he did not want, it doesn’t mean that his outlook on relationships has suddenly changed.
And that’s not even something I should even be thinking about, not after just getting divorced.
“What do you want to order for dinner?” he asks, changing the subject.
“I should probably get out of your hair,” I tell him just as there is a knock on the door.
“Hold that thought.” He gets up and walks over to it, swinging it open.
“Uncle Dayton, we’re all having dinner up at Uncle Clay’s,” a little girl says, followed by a familiar little boy’s voice making an announcement.
“We’re making hamburgers!”
“Dad sent us down to let you know because you’re not answering your phone,” the girl continues.
“Is everyone there?” Dayton asks.
“Yep, all of us.”
“Tell your dad I’ll be there in ten minutes and that I’m bringing someone with me.”
My eyes widen. Unless he’s talking about taking someone else, he’s talking about me, and I don’t know who “everyone” is, but I do know that he’s told me his brothers, their wives, and all their kids live in the building.
“Okay, we’ll see you upstairs,” the boy replies, and Dayton closes the door and meets my gaze as he walks back toward me.
“We’re going upstairs for dinner.”
“Um….”
“We can bring PJ. He met both my brothers’ dogs before, and they get along.”
“He met your brothers’ dogs before?”
“Yeah, the day you came over to take a nap, he met them.”
“Oh.”
“It’ll be cool. You’ll like everyone.” He takes a seat on the couch next to me and reaches out, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. Maybe I should tell him to stop touching me like I mean something more to him because the easy affection is messing with my head. Of course I don’t do that because I’ll miss it if he stops, and I don’t want him to stop. “So what do you say?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“All right, so that gives you about two minutes to get over the freakout.”
I can’t help but snort. “Is it that obvious?”
“A little.” He smiles.
“Should I go change?” I glance down at the jean shorts, tank top, and sweater I put on this morning when he came to invite me out to breakfast.
“No, it’ll be casual. The kids will be hyped up on sugar, the girls will probably drag you off to interrogate you, and the guys and I will hang at the bar.”
“There’s a bar?”
“You’ll see.” He gets off the couch and holds out his hand. “Ready?”
“I guess I don’t really have a choice not to be.” I place my hand in his and let him pull me up. Once I’m on my feet, I tip my head back. “Do they know I’m pregnant?”
“Clay does, so Willow probably does. I doubt she’s shared that information with Emma or Miranda, though. It’s up to you if you want to share that with them.”
“Do you want them to know?”
“I’m not keeping it a secret. There just hasn’t been a time for me to sit down with Miles or Tucker to talk about things.”
“Right.” Because this all just happened, and we are living in fast-forward.
“When I was reading up on some stuff, it said that most people wait until twelve weeks to share the news because prior to that, there is a higher chance of miscarriage,” he says.
Twelve weeks, so we are right there.
Wait.
“You read up on it?” I ask.
He gives a little shrug like it’s not a big deal. “Yeah.”
“What else did you read?”
“That the baby is about the size of a prune right now.”
“Really?”
He tilts his head to the side, his face surprised. “You didn’t know that?”
“No.” I instantly feel guilty for not doing research and looking things up about what is happening to me and my body.
Shouldn’t I be doing that?
Shouldn’t I want to?
“What’s that look?” he questions, his eyes narrowing.
“Nothing.” I walk away from him and slip on my sandals that I took off at the door when I came in.
“Franny.”
“Are you ready?” I force a smile, and he looks at me with the same frown he had on his face last night.
“Talk to me.”
“Seriously, I’m fine.”
“Francisca,” he clips, and my chin jerks back in surprise.
I’ve never heard him sound annoyed or angry before. It’s a little scary, and for some crazy reason, it’s also kinda hot.
“Okay,” I give in because he’s obviously not going to. “I was just thinking that I should be the one researching things and looking up information. Shouldn’t I?”
“I think you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to, which is taking care of yourself.” He closes the distance between us and curls his hand around my jaw. “I’m not self-centered enough to believe that I was the only one caught off guard by the fact that you’re pregnant. And we’re a team now, so if you don’t feel like you can handle something, you can pass it over to me, and I’ll deal with it. Even if it’s just looking up shit online and giving you updates about what you might experience each month.”
My throat gets tight, and tears fill my eyes. For a guy who had no desire to be a dad, I have a feeling that he’s going to be a great one. “Okay.”
“Now, are you ready to experience some chaos firsthand?” His eyebrows lift in question.
“I hope so.”
“I’ll be there with you.” He leans down, touching his lips to my forehead, then opens the door while calling for PJ to come with us.
After getting on the elevator, he presses the button for the third floor, and what seems like only a second later, the doors open back up. Even before we reach the apartment at the end of the hall, I can hear the sound of kids laughing, people talking, and music playing. It sounds like happy chaos… but chaos all the same.
“You okay?” He takes my hand, and I tip my head back to look up at him.
I’m pretty sure I’d be okay in any situation if I were with him.
“Yeah.”
When we reach the door, he doesn’t knock. He pushes it open, and PJ ducks behind us to hide. But to my surprise, as a big dog that looks like a wolf saunters toward us, he forgets all about being scared and hops toward it excitedly.
“This is Skye,” Dayton tells me, then chuckles when a white ball of fur zooms in out of nowhere and side-tackles PJ. “And that’s Dolly.” Laughing, I pet both of my new furry acquaintances, then watch the three of them run off and disappear into another room, where I can hear the sound of kids screaming and laughing.
“They’ll be okay. Let me introduce you to everyone,” he says, and I turn to find six sets of eyes pointed in our direction, most of them with curiosity etched into the features surrounding them. I remember the couple I met when I was with Dayton down in the lobby, but everyone else is new to me.
Still holding my hand, he leads me toward everyone gathered around the island in the kitchen and starts making introductions as the kids, who had been in the other room, come in laughing with the dogs following behind them.
His brother Clay, with all his tattoos, looks the complete opposite of his wife, Willow, who’s a petite blonde with a kind smile. Their son is an adorable mix of the two of them and obviously obsessed with his dad.
Miles is also a big guy with rugged features and dark hair, and his wife, Emma, is stunning. Their daughter, who Miles shares with another woman, is adorable and obviously the ringleader of all the kids, who follow her wherever she goes.
Tucker and Miranda, who I met and liked the moment I first saw them, grin at me. I can’t help but to notice how perfect they seem together and how sweet their little family is. As I get hugs from the girls and smiles from the guys, I instantly feel welcome. I also have a lot of questions.
Sure, Clay, Miles, Tucker, and Dayton could all be biological brothers, but I know Dayton said he grew up in foster care and that he doesn’t know his family. So it leaves me to wonder what the story is here and how all of them are connected.
As Dayton guessed, it isn’t long before the girls all draw me in to hang with them while the guys go to watch the kids in the playroom. All except Jenny, who Miranda keeps with her so she can give her a bottle.
“Do you have any nieces or nephews?” Emma asks as I watch Miranda burp Jenny, who is half asleep after eating.
“No. Honestly, I’ve never had much contact with babies. None of my friends have kids—or not yet at least—and my cousins who do have younger kids live out of state, so I don’t see them often.”
“Do you want to hold her?” Miranda asks when she finishes burping Jenny, and panic wraps around my insides.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head.
“They look more fragile than they actually are,” Willow tells me gently, and I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. “Come on, sit here.”
“Okay.” I take a seat on one of the counter stools she pulls out, and Miranda places Jenny in my arms. She’s so light but so fricking heavy at the same time, knowing how precious the tiny bundle is, and as I look down at her sweet little face, I try to imagine what it’s going to be like when I hold my son or daughter for the first time.
But it still feels like some false reality, even after the ultrasound and hearing the heartbeat.
“See? You’re a natural,” Willow says, and I meet her gaze. From the look in her eyes, she definitely knows about the baby, and I wonder if she can tell that I’m scared out of my mind. I drop my eyes back to Jenny and watch her eyes slide closed as I gently rock her like I saw Miranda doing.
“So, how do you and Dayton know each other?” Emma asks, and I drag my eyes off Jenny to focus on her.
“We met at one of my parents’ parties and found out that we both live here in the same building.”
“That’s cool.” She studies me for a moment, seeming to weigh something over in her mind. “Are you two?—?”
“No,” I cut her off, already knowing what she’s about to ask. “We’re just friends.”
“Oh,” she mutters, sounding disappointed.
“Do you hold hands with all your friends?” Miranda asks, and the back of my neck starts to tingle with unease.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Willow inserts, giving Miranda a look that I might give Molly, Georgia, or Amelia if they overstepped.
“Sorry, it’s just weird for us because we’ve all known Dayton for years, and he’s never brought a woman around. And he’s for sure never held hands with anyone.”
“Our relationship is a little complicated,” I confess.
“Trust me. I’m the queen of complicated,” Miranda says, then adds, “My now ex-husband was cheating on me with Tucker’s then wife.”
“What?” I’m sure my jaw is on the floor.
“Yep, it was messy, but it all worked out in the end.” She shrugs.
Apparently, since not only does her son consider Tucker his dad—or one of them—but they are also married now and have a new baby. “So, how is your and Dayton’s story complicated?”
“I’m pregnant,” I admit, adding, “with his baby,” for clarity, so they don’t get it wrong and think I’m having some other man’s child, figuring I might as well get it out in the open now. There is no point in keeping it a secret, when it’s just a matter of time before they all find out.
“Oh my God,” Miranda breathes, followed by Emma’s, “Holy shit.”
Not surprisingly, Willow doesn’t react at all.
“The news was a surprise to me and an even bigger surprise to him, but we’re working it out.”
“How far along are you?” Miranda asks.
“About twelve weeks. We just had our first ultrasound.”
“He went with you?” Emma asks, and I nod, watching her eyes begin to fill with tears. “Sorry.” She steps away and walks into the kitchen to grab a paper towel that she uses to wipe beneath her eyes.
“Is she okay?” I whisper.
“Yeah, we’re all pretty close with Dayton,” Willow tells me, then smiles softly. “We all know how awesome he is, and we’ve all talked more than once about how we wish he’d find someone and settle down. I just don’t think any of us ever saw that happening. He’s always been pretty adamant that he wasn’t looking for that kind of thing.”
“He’s told me the same.” I don’t add that he told me about having a vasectomy in order to avoid having kids since I don’t know if that’s something he wants everyone to know. “And that’s not what this is. I… We’re really just friends, and I’m okay with that.” The lie tastes sour on my tongue, but hopefully, if I say it enough, I can convince myself that it’s the truth.
Thankfully, after that, they don’t ask any more about Dayton’s and my relationship and change to asking me about myself and my job as they get stuff together for dinner. Every once in a while, the kids or the guys will come in and join us for a few minutes to grab food from the island, where there are bowls of chips and dips and other snack-type foods, then disappear again.
As I’m sitting there with Jenny still asleep in my arms, Dayton comes in, and his gaze finds mine before dropping to the bundle tucked against my chest. I don’t know what to think about the look in his eyes, but I do know that it makes me feel warm when they find mine again.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah.” My pulse skips a beat when he walks up and slides my hair off my shoulder, his fingers skimming my neck.
“Tucker asked me to come get his girl.”
“Oh.” My heart seems to stop. Actually, my entire world seems to stop when he carefully takes Jenny from my arms and rests her tiny body against his big, wide chest.
“Have you eaten anything?”
“Umm…” I try to find the words, but it’s like my brain has shut down, seeing him with a bundle of soft pink in his ultra-masculine arms.
“We’ll make sure she eats now,” Willow tells him, then asks, “Will you tell Clay he can come get the burger patties when the grill’s hot?”
“Sure.” He smiles at her, then looks down at me and touches his fingers to my jaw before walking away.
“Are you okay?” Miranda asks, and I look over at where she’s standing in the kitchen, cutting up tomatoes. Emma is next to her, trying and failing to hide her smile, and Willow is doing the same.
“Yep, great. Totally great.”
“It’s good that you’re totally great.” Emma laughs, and I drag my teeth over my bottom lip to keep from laughing along with her.
Stuffed full and completely exhausted, despite my nap earlier today, I try to avoid leaning into Dayton as the elevator takes us down to his floor a few hours later.
It was a good night, with great food and even better company, and even though I just met everyone, I never once felt out of place or awkward. If there was a conversation going on around me, I was always included, and when the couples all got back together when it was time to eat, Dayton sat close to me, so I didn’t feel like the odd man out, which was sweet.
“I really like your family,” I tell him with a yawn as the doors open, and we step off the elevator.
“They like you too.” He lets us into his place, and PJ runs over and jumps up on the couch to lie down. He might be more tired than I am after playing with the kids, Skye, and Dolly, all evening—plus running free in their backyard, which might be as cool as the playroom and bar that Clay and Willow have inside their place.
“Can I ask you something?” I kick off my sandals and follow him to the couch.
“Sure.”
“I know you mentioned that you grew up in foster care...”
“They aren’t my biological brothers,” he answers my question without me having to find a way to ask. “We all ended up in the same foster family and grew up together.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
Thirteen?
My chest gets tight. At thirteen, I was having sleepovers with friends and arguing with my parents about stupid things like my bedtime and how much TV I could watch. I can’t imagine getting removed from my family and having to live with people I didn’t know, especially at that age.
“That’s pretty young,” I say quietly.
“It is, but it isn’t. Just a few more years, and I would have been considered an adult.”
“Then you could have lived on your own?” I can understand why he would look at it like that.
“No.” His expression fills with something dark. “A few more years, and I could have been charged as an adult for murder.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped.
Wrapping my arms around my middle, I whisper, “I don’t understand.”
“My father was a drug addict and an alcoholic. Most of the time, he’d just get high or drunk and pass out, but there were times when he’d fly into a rage for whatever reason. One night, he spiraled, and by the time I woke up and realized what was going on, it was too late.” He looks across the room with his jaw tight.
“What happened?” The question is out before I can think better of asking—not only for his sake, but also to question if I really want to know the answer.
“He lost it. I’m not sure what set him off because I walked in when Mom was already bleeding on the kitchen floor. When he realized I was there, he turned on me. But I was thirteen, and I’d grown a lot that summer. And he was a mess from all the drugs and the drinking.” He sighs. “To this day, I don’t remember what happened. I’m not sure if I blacked out, or if it’s just something my mind blocked, but when I finally came to, he was on the floor next to Mom.”
My mouth fills with saliva, and I try to swallow the bile I feel crawling up the back of my throat, as the loop of what he just said plays over and over in my head.
When he realized I was there, he turned on me. But I was thirteen, and I’d grown a lot that summer. And he was a mess from all the drugs and the drinking. To this day, I don’t remember what happened. I’m not sure if I blacked out, or if it’s just something my mind blocked, but when I finally came to, he was on the floor next to Mom.
Unable to hold back the wave of nausea any longer, I cover my mouth as I jump up off the couch and run toward the bathroom in the hall. I can hear him right behind me as my knees crash to the tile floor, and hovering over the bowl, I lose what I was able to eat.
Still gagging, with my eyes squeezed tight, I register the light come on, the toilet flush, then hear the sink start up.
“Are you okay?” He places a cool, wet cloth on the back of my neck, and tears fill my eyes.
“Yeah,” I lie, taking the rag from my neck and using it to wipe my mouth as he squats down next to me.
“I shouldn’t have told you.” He touches my chin, and I turn to meet his gaze. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Please stop apologizing.” I fall against him, wrapping my arms around his middle, and he lands on his ass under my weight, dragging in a deep breath. Squeezing my eyes closed again, I press my fist against my lips so that he doesn’t hear me cry.
I didn’t understand why he would’ve taken such drastic measures to make sure he didn’t have kids or why he never had a relationship, but now I get it. What he went through… the trauma of that experience altered not just his life, but him as a person —and at thirteen, an age when he was just figuring out who he was. On top of that, he lost his mom and his dad, both in tragic ways. Why would anyone believe in love, or really anything good, after going through that?
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and his hold on me gets tighter.
“Don’t be. I was better off where I ended up.”
Because he ended up with Clay, Tucker, and Miles—his family who he chose and who chose him in return. The guys who have been in his life since he was thirteen and probably have backstories as tragic as his. I’m glad he had them and that they all had each other.
And even though our relationship will likely never be traditional in any sense of the word, I have a feeling that if we keep building on our friendship, the family we are creating will be just as strong as the one he has with his brothers, and I honestly can’t ask for anything more than that.