15. Francisca
CHAPTER 15
Francisca
T here are times that painting feels like an escape from reality and other times; it feels like I’m just going through the motions. This morning, it’s the former. I’ve been up since four, sitting at the easel with my paintbrush in hand, lost in a world of pretty flowers, tiny bugs, and greenery.
But that doesn’t mean my thoughts don’t intrude every so often. How could they not, with so much going on?
Last night, after I left the bathroom with Dayton, I went in search of my parents and asked them about brunch. My dad, who obviously had no idea why I wanted to meet with them, was all too happy to agree to another Sunday meal as a family. But my mom? Oh, my mom knew why I made the request, and worry instantly washed away the happy buzz she had going on up until then.
I’ve put her in an awkward position, and I feel horrible about that now. I just hope Dad doesn’t get mad at her and that he can understand why I didn’t tell him right after she found out and begged her not to until I found the courage.
On top of the pending date with my parents, I can’t stop thinking about what is going on between Dayton and me. And yes, I know there is something going on between us. I’d have to be an idiot not to get that. I just don’t know what it is. And sure, maybe we don’t need a traditional label, but I would feel better if I could just know where his head is at when it comes to me.
I planned on talking to him about it last night, but by the time we got into his SUV to come home, I was so exhausted I fell asleep on the drive and only woke after I heard his deep voice telling Molly that he was going to carry me inside. After shaking off the fog of sleep enough to say goodnight to my friend, I let Dayton shuffle me into my apartment, and then he took PJ for a walk so I could get ready for bed.
I had also planned on inviting him to stay for a bit so we could talk when he got back, but he didn’t even give me the opportunity to ask. Instead, he kissed me at the door, telling me to go to sleep, before he went upstairs to his apartment.
It wasn’t a hard request to fulfill. I was so tired I didn’t even put on my sleep mask, which is why I was up with the sun this morning.
Hearing a knock at my apartment door, I look over my shoulder and watch PJ run to it, his whole body wiggling with excitement. There is only one other person besides me who he would be so excited to see, so I know as I set down my paintbrush that Dayton is here early.
When I open the door, the smell of doughnuts and coffee greets me, along with the sight of Dayton in a T-shirt that is snug, loose sweats that taper at his ankles, sneakers, and a backward ball cap.
Okay, so maybe hot-athlete Dayton tops sexy-professor Dayton.
“Morning.” He bends, pressing his lips to mine before shuffling me backward and kicking the door closed.
“Morning,” I reply, watching him in a daze as he walks to the kitchen and places the stuff in his hands on the counter before he bends to pick up PJ.
“How’d you sleep?” he asks, looking at me while he cuddles my pup.
“Okay. You?”
Ugh! Why does this feel awkward? It’s rarely awkward between us, which is something I have grown to appreciate.
“All right, but I was awake early, so I decided to run out and get doughnuts from the place down the block that is always sold out by the time I’m normally up.” His eyes slowly move down my body. “You were painting.”
“I was.” I drop my eyes to the paint-covered apron I put on over my sleep shorts and tank top this morning. When I look back up at him, his head is turned, and his eyes are focused across the room. Without a word, he leaves the kitchen and walks toward the painting while still holding PJ. He’s seen my art before when he’s come downstairs, or I assume he has, but he’s never really stopped to look nor comment on it.
“Did someone buy this one already?” he asks, looking at me over his shoulder.
“A woman in Delaware commissioned it and three other pieces for her bed-and-breakfast,” I tell him, and he turns back to the canvas.
“It’s pretty.”
Pretty .
I think that’s the sweetest compliment I’ve ever gotten.
Or maybe it’s just that the word “pretty” sounds adorable coming out of this man’s mouth.
“Thanks.”
“What time were you up working?”
“Four,” I admit, and he frowns. I know it bothers him—me not getting enough sleep. “I’ll take a nap later or go to bed early tonight.”
“When we get home, you can come up to my place, and we can watch our show. Or I can watch it while you sleep.”
“Very funny.” I laugh, and he grins. I love hanging out at his apartment. It’s cozy and warm, with the added benefit of smelling like him. Plus, his couch is like lying on a plethora of clouds.
“Are you nervous about today?” he asks, placing PJ on his feet.
“A little. But I also know I’ll feel relieved after it’s all said and done.”
“It’ll be all right, and I’ll be there with you.”
“Are you nervous?” I ask softly, shifting on my feet.
“No, but I’m worried about you. I know that if your dad reacts poorly to the news, that’s going to upset you, and I don’t want to see that happen.” He closes the distance between us and slides his fingers back into my hair, cupping the side of my head.
“I don’t expect him to be happy. I just hope he doesn’t use the word ‘disappointed.’” I lean into his touch and watch a small smile form at the corners of his lips. “He’s going to ask about us.”
“I know,” he agrees.
I bite the inside of my cheek before saying softly, “We should probably talk about that.”
“About us?”
“Yes, but not just because my dad is going to ask. I’d like to know what we’re doing because I don’t want to build this,” I motion between us with a finger, “up in my head as something it’s not.”
“I’ve never done this before.”
“I know.” I rest my hands against his abs. “We don’t need to put a label on it. I just want to know where your head is at. I want to know if you see me as… more than a friend?”
“Friend.” He laughs, but it sounds forced. “I don’t kiss my friends, Franny, and I don’t get insanely jealous when they show affection to other people. I sure as fuck don’t worry about them constantly or imagine what life might be like with them in five years without even trying.”
“Dayton—”
“If you want to put a label on it, we can,” he tells me, and I swallow thickly.
“Please, shut up.” I lean up on my tiptoes and press my mouth against his, and he doesn’t hesitate for even a moment to kiss me back.
* * *
I’m going to puke. I keep trying not to think about it, but the closer we get to my parents’ house, the harder it is to ignore the nausea, the way my hands feel clammy, and how lightheaded I am. I know it’s not from the doughnut I ate for breakfast, nor the decaf iced coffee Dayton brought me. It’s nerves—body-wracking nerves.
I thought I was ready for this. I convinced myself that it was time. But as we turn into my parents’ driveway, I know I lied to myself.
“I think you should turn around. I can call Mom and tell her something came up and that I’ll reschedule. She’ll probably be relieved.”
“I’m not turning around,” Dayton says, bringing my hand that is in his to his mouth and pressing a kiss to my fingers, which are ice cold. “We’re going to get this over with and deal with whatever happens after.”
“I’m going to throw up.” I squeeze my eyes closed.
“You’re not going to throw up.” I feel the car slow to a stop, and my heart pounds so hard I can hear the blood rushing into my ears. “Hey.” His warm fingers wrap around my lower jaw, and he turns my face toward him as I blink my eyes open. We’re not parked right in front of my parents’ house like I assumed. We’re stopped in the middle of their long driveway, still out of view. “Tell me the worst-case scenario.”
“What?”
“What’s the worst-case scenario in your mind of what will happen after you tell him?”
My throat starts to burn just thinking about it. “My dad says that he never wants to see me again, and I lose my family.”
“Do you think that is an actual possibility?”
“No,” I whisper, and he nods, sliding his fingers along my jaw.
“It’s going to be okay, Franny, and if it’s not, I’ll make sure that you’re okay until it is.”
And if it’s not, I’ll make sure that you’re okay until it is.
My chin wobbles. “Thank you.”
“We’re a team,” he says so adamantly I’d be stupid to question if he really means it.
“Yeah,” I agree.
I didn’t fully understand what he meant the first time he told me that we’re a team, but I’m starting to get it now. The things that are too heavy for me to carry? He’s the person I can pass them off to, and he’s the one I can lean on when I’m exhausted.
I can’t remember if I ever had that with Matthew or if our partnership was always one-sided. I do know that, in the end, we were just two people taking care of ourselves, when we should have been taking care of each other.
“Are you ready to get this over with?” he asks, and I run my teeth over my bottom lip, then nod. “That’s my girl.” He touches his mouth to mine once more, then lets me go.
I watch him put the engine back in drive and drag in a breath as we head toward my parents’. I’m still scared, but not as scared as I was a few minutes ago, because he’s right. My worst-case scenario is not going to happen. My dad would never turn his back on me, and if he tried, my mom and Jacob would never agree to that.
“Mom! Dad!” I call out, walking into my childhood home a few minutes later.
“In the kitchen!” Mom calls back, and I look up at Dayton as he takes my hand. Absorbing the strength I need from his touch, we walk toward the kitchen and step through the open door. Mom, who is at the counter and putting together a platter of bagels and what looks like smoked salmon, glances between Dayton and me. And then her eyes drop to our hands and widen.
“I fucking knew it.” Jacob, sitting on one of the stools, laughs.
“Watch your mouth,” Mom hisses at him, then looks over toward the opposite side of the kitchen when Dad steps out of the pantry, carrying a bottle of champagne.
“Found it.” He holds the bottle out toward Mom, then looks over at me when he realizes her attention is focused elsewhere. “Hey, sweetheart.” He smiles, then looks at Dayton and drops his gaze to our hands. “When did this happen?” he asks, looking between the two of us, his smile never faltering.
“Umm….” My heart pounds, and I start to feel lightheaded.
“This is going to be good. Mom, do you have any popcorn?” my brother asks while cackling.
“Shut up, Jacob.” Mom sighs.
“What am I missing?” Dad questions, looking over at Jacob and then Mom.
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt, caving under the pressure wrapping around my insides, and Dad’s head flies my way.
“Oh my God,” Mom breathes.
“Jesus,” Dayton mumbles.
“Damn. Way to rip off the band-aid, sis,” Jacob says quietly, and I try to swallow the panic that rises over the fact that I even shocked my brother.
“Come again,” Dad murmurs.
“I’m pregnant,” I repeat, with tears filling my eyes. It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize, but I’m not sorry. Every day, I fall a little more in love and get a little more comfortable with the idea of becoming a mom.
I’m not sorry that I’m pregnant. Maybe the timing isn’t great, and maybe I wish that things could have played out a little differently between Dayton and me, but who knows if we would have ever had a reason to get to know each other if I hadn’t ended up pregnant.
Looking sideswiped by the news I just bombed him with, Dad walks to one of the stools at the island and falls onto it as he stares at me in shock. “How did this happen?”
“Dad, do you really need me to sit you down and have the birds and the bees talk?” Jacob asks, and Dad turns to look at him. I can’t see the look on his face, but it must be scary. “Sorry. Too soon.” My brother holds up his hands.
“I’m guessing the baby is Dayton’s?”
“It is,” I whisper, and he nods, rubbing his chest while the color seems to drain from his face.
“Are you okay, honey?” Mom asks, walking around the island to him.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” Mom grabs his wrist and checks his pulse, something she learned to do when Jacob and I were growing up, and she would have CPR class every summer for all of her friends and whoever else wanted to join. I don’t know what she feels, but when her eyes come to me, they are filled with panic. “Call an ambulance.”
“I don’t need an ambulance.” Dad rubs his chest harder as his breathing seems to become erratic.
Dropping my bag off my shoulder, I start to dig through all the random crap I have in it for my cell phone.
“I got it, baby,” Dayton tells me, bending down to kiss my forehead before stepping out of the room with his phone against his ear. I watch him go, with my heart in my throat, then spin toward my father when there is a thud.
“Dad!” I rush across the room, dodging the bottle of champagne that is rolling across the floor.
“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he tries to assure me, but I can tell that even he’s worried now. With my own panic starting to make me lightheaded, I remember a news clip I saw one time.
“Do you have any aspirin?” I ask Mom, and she meets my gaze.
“I think so.”
“I’ll stay with him while you go look,” I tell her, and she swallows, looking at Dad.
“I’m okay, honey,” he whispers to her, and she leans in, pressing her mouth to his before rushing out of the kitchen.
“Jacob.” I turn to my brother, my stomach clenching when I see that he’s white as a ghost. His eyes slowly meet mine. “Come help me get him to the living room.”
“I’m okay here,” Dad argues.
“You’ll be better on the couch.” I slide under his arm to help him stand as Dayton walks into the kitchen.
“An ambulance is on the way,” he tells me with the phone still at his ear.
Thank God. I sag in relief.
“I found it.” Mom stumbles over her own feet as she runs back into the kitchen. “I’m okay,” she assures us as she rights herself, looking between me, Dad, and Dayton, who is trying to take over my spot under Dad’s arm. “Why are you moving him?”
“I think he’d be more comfortable on the couch.”
“I think he should stay where he is. He shouldn’t move around.” She opens the bottle she’s holding and shakes out one aspirin. “Chew this up,” she orders.
“Give me some water,” Dad tells her, but she shakes her head.
“No, chew it up. It will work faster.” She juts her hand toward him to urge him to take from her.
My dad rolls his eyes. “I’m not chewing it up, hon?—”
“ Chew up the fucking pill! ” she shrieks, and my eyes widen.
My mom never curses. Or yells. Ever.
“Okay, honey. I’ll chew it up,” Dad agrees, using a tone he’s always reserved for calming her when she’s overwhelmed. He takes the pill from her and puts it in his mouth.
“Where is the ambulance?” Mom asks Dayton.
“How far out are you guys?” he asks whoever is on the phone, then looks at Mom. “They’re about five minutes away.”
“Jacob, go wait out front to let them in,” Mom tells him, and when I look over, he’s still frozen in horror.
“I’ll get them,” Dayton says, leaving the kitchen.
“I’m going to be okay, honey. Just calm down,” Dad tells Mom, taking her hand, and seeing the contrast in their complexion, I stop to take a breath.
I’ve heard people described as turning gray when they’re sick, but seeing it happen to my dad, I know whatever is going on inside him isn’t good.
“You better be.” Mom leans into him.
“I’m sorry, Dad.” I lean into his other side and wrap my arms around him.
“This isn’t your fault.” He kisses my head, and tears fill my eyes.
He’s wrong. My news was the catalyst for whatever is happening with him right now.
It feels like forever before Dayton walks back in with three EMTs, but mere minutes after they arrive, Dad is on a stretcher being wheeled out of the house, with Mom clinging to his side.
“We’ll meet you at the hospital,” I say as we follow them down the front steps to the open back doors of the ambulance.
“Okay, honey.” Mom barely spares me a glance as she climbs into the back with Dad.
With my heart in my throat, I watch the doors close and feel Dayton wrap his arm around my waist.
“Let’s go grab whatever your mom might need, baby.” He turns me toward the house as the ambulance takes off with the lights on top of it flashing.
I leave him in the foyer when we get inside and run upstairs to my parents’ bedroom, grabbing Mom’s purse along with a sweatshirt for her out of her closet, since all she had on is a tank top and shorts when she left. When I get back to the kitchen a minute later, I find Dayton talking quietly to Jacob, who hasn’t moved from his spot at the island.
“Ready, baby?” Dayton asks a moment later, and I nod at him, then focus on my brother again.
“You’re coming to the hospital, right?”
“Yeah.” Jacob gathers himself enough to follow Dayton and me outside to the SUV.
No one says a word on the way to the hospital, but that doesn’t mean I don’t spend the whole ride praying to whoever will listen.