13. Dayton
CHAPTER 13
Dayton
W ith the TV on low and the only light coming in from the windows behind me, I drag my eyes off the papers in my hand and look down toward the end of the couch at Franny. Studying her soft features and her blonde hair that is a mess of waves spread out behind her on the throw pillow she tucked under her head, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful sight in my life.
Watching her sleep is slowly becoming my favorite pastime, or maybe it’s just being around her, that is. I feel oddly at ease when she’s close, and way more centered than I normally do. Even if we’re just watching TV or hanging out, there is no outside noise trying to intrude. My mind is just quiet. I’ve never had that with anyone, not even my brothers.
When she lets out a quiet snore, I smile. I did some research and found out that most women who are pregnant need around ten hours of sleep a day, and even though she said she’s been sleeping better since she got an eye mask to block out the light in her apartment, every time she comes up to my place, she falls asleep without fail. Like today after a late lunch, because she had breakfast with a friend, she fell asleep thirty minutes into the show I turned on for us to watch and has been out for about an hour—maybe a little longer than that.
I’ve thought about talking to Clay about putting in some kind of motorized blinds for her to use, but I’m selfish as fuck and afraid that if I do that, I won’t see her as often as I do now. Which has been every day since last weekend when I told her about my parents.
Scrubbing my hands down my face, I let my head fall to the back of the couch. I still don’t know why I told her about my mom and dad. It’s not something I’ve spoken about with anyone besides my brothers, and even with them, I’ve avoided the topic for years. Maybe I was testing her, seeing if—when she learned the truth—she’d stop looking at me like I’m somehow important to her. Or maybe I was trying to push her away after the evening we had together with my family, an evening that made me want more with her, more of her.
Whatever the reason, I regretted it immediately and hated myself for shoving my past in her face the way I did.
Lifting my head when her cell starts to ring on the coffee table, I lean forward and pick it up before it can wake her, hitting the side button and sending the call to voicemail when I see it’s Matthew calling. I’ve got to give it to the guy; he is tenacious. Then again, after having her around for the last few weeks, I can understand how hard she’d be to let go of.
But that doesn’t mean his constant calling and texting doesn’t annoy the fuck out of me.
Putting her cell on silent, I drop it back to the table, then turn her way when her soft, sleepy voice asks, “Was that Matthew?”
“Yep,” I mutter, and she rolls her eyes before looking at the TV.
“How many episodes did I miss this time?”
“Only one and a half.”
“We’re never going to make it through this series at the rate I’m going.”
“It’s a good thing I don’t mind rewatching the same episode three times.” I smile, and she laughs while pushing herself up to sit.
“What time is it?” she asks.
“A little after four.”
“Crap.” Her eyes slide closed. “I need to leave soon. Molly is coming over at five to get ready for tonight.”
“The event doesn’t start until eight.” An event I’m not looking forward to going to but am obligated to attend because Hoffner—the man hosting it—is a major donor in the political world, so Billy expects all of us to show up. And unfortunately, with Jamie being back at work this past week, she will likely be there this evening, which could get messy, since Billy’s wife will be there too. It’s something I already warned Franny about at lunch.
Though, like I told Franny, ever since Jamie’s been back at the office after Billy’s announcement, she’s been different. She’s kept her distance and been nothing but professional. I haven’t even seen her seek Billy out, making me wonder what’s going on there. And I also wonder if Franny was right—if he told Jamie that his relationship with his wife was on the rocks in order to sleep with her, and then she found out that wasn’t the case, so she cut him off.
“I know, but unlike you, I need to do more than just get dressed in order to look presentable. I need to shower and do something with my hair and my face, which is a whole process.”
“You look beautiful all the time.”
“Whatever you say, big guy.” She laughs, then adds, “Molly also asked me to do her makeup and help with her hair, so that’s going to take time, too.” She studies me for a long moment, then asks softly, “Do you want to drive together?”
The way her question comes out—tentative, almost shy—pulls my answer out of me without hesitation. “Yeah.”
“Cool.” She seems to have to force her gaze off mine. “I guess I should go.”
Fuck, it feels good that she’s as reluctant to leave as I am to let her go, which happens each time she’s here.
As she gets up off the couch, PJ—who fell asleep on the dog bed I got him for my place—lifts his head to watch his mom as she grabs her cell phone. “Are you ready to go home?” she asks him, and he drops his head back to his paws. “I guess not.”
Laughing, I get to my feet, and she tips her head back to look up at me. “I’ll bring him down with me when I come to get you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll take him out and let him run for a bit in the back of Clay’s, so he can burn off some energy.”
“You’re the best.” She rests her hands against my waist as she leans up on her tiptoes, and without thinking, I dip my chin and press my mouth to hers.
I hear her sharp inhale of breath as our lips touch before she pulls back quickly, her eyes wide.
Fuck, how many times have I wanted to kiss her?
How many times have I stopped myself from just doing it because I knew that if that door was opened, there would be no going back?
Because one more taste wouldn’t be enough.
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes like she’s the one at fault, like she’s the one who kissed me. “I didn’t mean….” She shakes her head, a pink flush spreading up her neck to her cheeks as her eyes drop to my mouth before shooting back up to mine. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorr?—”
Capturing her face in my hands, I pull her back toward me and cover her mouth with my own before she can apologize again.
It takes only one second for her to melt against me and two for my entire world to flip upside down.
Sliding my fingers deep into her hair, I feel her lips part, and the soft puff of air from her whimper touches my tongue as her hands skim up my chest. Just like the first time I had her taste to savor, I lose all sense of reality, and my entire existence becomes hyperfocused on her, the sounds she makes, and the way her soft body feels pressed against mine.
I’d forgotten how soft her lips are, what her hair felt like between my fingers, the way she gives in so easily to letting me lead. Skimming one hand down her back, I pull her tighter against me and deepen the kiss as she pushes closer, and she slides her hand around the back of my neck like she’s afraid I’ll pull away.
I wouldn’t, even if I could.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to see this,” I hear whispered, and hearing it too, Franny goes rigid in my arms.
Reluctantly, I rip my mouth from hers and turn to my open apartment door, finding Winter with her hands wrapped around Kingston’s forehead in a failed attempt to cover his eyes.
Fuck.
I tuck Franny’s face against my chest as she whimpers again, this time in distress.
“You two know you’re supposed to knock.” It’s difficult to keep the frustration out of my voice, but I try.
“We did,” Winter says, then adds, “We used the key when you didn’t answer, because we thought you weren’t home.”
“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“Dad needs to borrow some butter for cookies,” she tells me, while Kingston continues to try to get away from her.
“It’s in the fridge,” I tell them, and they rush toward the kitchen, with PJ—who is excited to see the two of them—hot on their heels.
I look down at Franny when I feel her tilt her head back to look up at me.
“Dayton?” she whispers, looking terrified but stunning with her lips swollen and her cheeks flush.
Fuck, I want to kiss her again.
Unable to help myself, I smooth my thumb over her bottom lip. “Molly is going to be here soon, and you need to go get ready.”
“But—”
“I’ll be down to get you at seven thirty,” I cut her off, hating the worry I see in her eyes. But there isn’t time right now to reassure her that everything will be okay. And I know that even if I tried, she wouldn’t believe me.
The situation between us is too delicate for words alone. It’s going to take time to win her and her trust and to make her believe that this can work—something that has become more and more clear over the last couple of weeks.
“Are you boyfriend and girlfriend now?” Kingston shouts across the apartment, and Franny’s eyes widen in horror.
“Oh my God,” she whispers, and I reluctantly loosen my hold on her and turn toward the kitchen.
“Did you find the butter?” I ask, and Kingston—who has PJ up in his arms hanging sideways, with his paws kicking at air while trying to find purchase—grins.
“I did.” Winter holds up the box while slamming the fridge door closed with her hip.
“All right, take it upstairs to your dad. He’s probably waiting on you two,” I tell her, and Kingston disappears behind the island as he sets PJ down.
Winter skips toward the door, singing, “Hi, Franny!”
“Uh… hey, sweetheart,” she replies, stepping away from me.
“Do you want us to bring you cookies after we make them?” my niece asks, looking between Franny and me with a bright smile that reminds me of her dad’s knowing one.
“We’ll be leaving soon, so we’ll come get some tomorrow,” I tell her, and her smile gets brighter.
“Cool. See ya!” She rushes out the door, and Kingston shouts a goodbye before following after her.
“She is totally going to tell your brother what she walked in on,” Franny says, watching the door close.
“Yep,” I agree, and she turns to face me.
“You need to tell him that she didn’t see what she thinks she saw.”
My brows shoot up. “You want me to make her look like a liar?”
“No.” Her shoulders slump.
“Don’t think about that right now,” I tell her, suddenly sorry for teasing her when she seems genuinely distressed.
“Don’t think about it?” she breathes, looking up at me with her eyes going wide again.
“You need to go meet Molly downstairs.”
“Right. You’re right.” She looks around. “Do you know where my phone is?”
“In your hand.” I press my lips together to curb my grin.
Her eyes drop to it, and she shakes her head.
“Of course,” she grumbles, and try as I might, I can’t help but to laugh. She glares at me. “Is it funny to you that I apparently have to deal with pregnancy brain on top of everything else?”
“No,” I say as soberly as possible. I don’t laugh like I want to since I know that would just piss her off. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.” I take her hand and lead her out of my apartment to the elevator, with PJ following. After pressing the button, I bend to pick him up so he doesn’t rush in after her when the doors open. He may be up and moving now, but she has enough to focus on tonight without trying to get ready with him underfoot.
“Thanks for keeping him.”
“It’s not a big deal.” I lean down and brush my lips across her forehead, then pull back to meet her gaze. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
“Okay.” Her eyes drop to my mouth for a moment before she turns away from me and steps onto the elevator, pressing the button for the first floor.
When the doors hide her from view, I head back into my place with PJ, hearing my cell beep in the kitchen as I kick my door closed. Going to pick it up, I find a message from Miles on the screen that makes me laugh.