17. Francisca
CHAPTER 17
Francisca
“I need you to bring me a cheeseburger and fries next time you come,” Dad says quietly, and I take my eyes off the TV, which was just playing an ad for a fast-food chain and look over at him in disbelief.
“What?”
“It can be a kids’ meal. I’m honestly not going to be picky at this point.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re recovering from open-heart surgery after almost dying, and you want me to sneak you in fast food, which is part of the reason you had a heart attack and almost died?”
“One cheeseburger isn’t going to be my downfall.” He glances toward the door. He’s probably afraid Mom heard him say the word “cheeseburger” from wherever she is in the house and is going to come rushing in at any moment.
She might.
Ever since Dad got home a week and a half ago, she’s been hovering like a helicopter mom with a wild toddler. He doesn’t make a move without her knowing. I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t attempted to break out of here. Then again, it takes all of his strength just to get up and use the bathroom.
“Find someone else to be your cholesterol dealer,” I grumble.
“I can’t ask anyone else; your mother has brainwashed all of you. You were my last hope.”
“You’re very dramatic, Dad.” I roll my eyes.
“Dramatic? Your mom has me on a vegan diet! Have you ever eaten vegan cheese?” His face is masked with disgust. “I can tell you right now it tastes nothing like cheese. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s plastic. Plastic cheese to eat with plastic tofurky—whatever the hell that is—and pretend-mayo to top it off. The only food I recognize lately is the vegetables she forces me to eat every day.”
“Vegetables are good for you,” I mutter, then look to the bedroom door when a shadow fills it.
Even though I just saw Dayton hours ago when he dropped me off at my parents’ to spend some time with my dad, my body still buzzes at the sight of him.
“Hey.” He walks across the room and leans over to touch his lips to the top of my head.
“Hey, big guy.” I tip my head back and smile up at him. “Were you able to get some work done?”
“A little.” His fingers skim along my jaw.
“Dayton, I need a favo—” Dad starts, and I spin my head around and hold up my hand.
“Don’t even think about asking him.”
“Ask me what?” Dayton questions, his fingers still at my jaw.
“I brought you lunch,” Mom says, walking in, and Dad groans quietly.
“Better luck next time.” I laugh.
“What’s going on?” Mom asks, and I start to open my mouth to tell her that her husband is attempting to talk people into bringing him food, but Dad cuts in before I can.
“I was just telling Francisca how grateful I am that you’ve been taking such good care of me and looking out for my diet since we got home.”
“You do know that after thirty-six years of marriage, I can tell when you’re lying, right?” Mom places the tray she’s holding on his bedside table. “And I hope you’re not trying to bribe everyone who comes to visit into bringing you food. Jacob already told me that you said you’d give him a thousand dollars if he brought you a burger and fries.”
“Why does Jacob get offered a thousand dollars, but I don’t?” I get up and take Dayton’s hand, urging him to take my seat, then plant myself on his lap. His hand instantly covers the bump that seems to be growing by the day.
“Because I know you can’t be bought.” Dad carefully sits up as Mom adjusts the back of his bed using the remote.
“I might have been more inclined to sneak you food if you did offer me money. Now, I guess you’ll never know if you could have had a cheeseburger.”
“No one is sneaking you anything.” Mom glares at him as she moves the tray around so that it’s over Dad’s lap. “And you’re never having a cheeseburger again. The doctors made it abundantly clear that you need a complete lifestyle change, so this is it. Suck it up and enjoy.”
“Okay, honey,” Dad agrees, picking up his sandwich and taking a bite.
I fight back a smile. Mom might be the only person on the planet that Dad is afraid of, and it’s hilarious to watch the two of them. After chewing and swallowing, Dad’s eyes move to Dayton, and his gaze drops to where Dayton has his hand resting on my stomach. When Dad was finally coherent enough to talk about the fact that I’m pregnant, he told me that he’s excited. I’m not sure that would have been his response if he hadn’t had a near-death experience, but I was relieved that he didn’t use the word “disappointed” and that he wasn’t upset with Mom for keeping the news from him. I was also relieved that neither he or mom blamed me for his heart attack when my news felt like the catalyst for it.
“So, when are you two getting married?” Dad asks casually.
“Before the baby’s born,” Dayton replies at the exact same time I say, “We’re not.”
Turning to look at him over my shoulder, I frown. “What did you say?”
“Before the baby’s born, we’ll get married.” He says it as if it’s something we decided a year ago.
“We’re not getting married.” I laugh.
“We should,” he responds, and my expression turns to one of confusion.
“No, we shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” Dayton asks like I’m the one who said I never, ever wanted to get married and had a vasectomy, not him.
“Are you serious right now?” I scan his face, but his expression is unwavering, which gives me pause.
“Yeah.”
I blink. “You’ve never even had a girlfriend, and all of a sudden, you want to get married?”
“I think it would be smart.” He shrugs.
“Smart?”
Is this conversation really happening? I glance over at my mom and dad, and they both look totally invested in the topic while I’m beginning to get annoyed.
“It will make things easier in the long run.”
“I’m sorry—did you do some kind of drugs on the way over here to pick me up?”
“He’s right. It would be smart,” Dad inserts, and I look at him as my chest starts to burn.
“It’s not 1920. Women do not have to get married if they end up pregnant.” I get off Dayton’s lap. “And I just got divorced. I don’t even know if I ever want to get married again. Also—” I hold up my hand when it looks like he’s going to speak. “—you and I barely just agreed that we are, in fact, seeing each other. So how do we go from that to it all of a sudden being ‘smart’ for us to get married?” I glare at him and wait for him to reply. Not surprisingly, he doesn’t say a word. “That’s what I thought.” I turn my attention to my mom. “Can you drive me home?”
“Franny,” Dayton says, but I don’t even look at him.
“I….” Mom glances over my shoulder at Dayton, and I press my lips together.
“Never mind. I’ll go find Jacob and have him drive me.”
“No one is driving you home but me,” Dayton states, and I cross my arms over my chest and turn to face him as he stands.
“I’m not getting in your car. Not when it’s apparent that you are suffering from some kind of brain trauma.”
“I don’t have a brain injury.”
“Well, then you got abducted by aliens and they did some experiment on you that made you lose touch with reality.”
“Francisca.” His jaw clenches.
Oh, he’s annoyed?
Well, so am I.
I would never get married just because it would be “smart.” Heck, I didn’t even marry Matthew because of that. And it had been smart—he checked all the boxes. He had a good job, long-term goals, a 401(k), and all the other crap that doesn’t actually matter when you are in a relationship. Still, I didn’t marry him for any of those reasons; I married him because I loved him and thought we would spend the rest of our lives together. So the fact that Dayton said he’d marry me like it was some kind of business arrangement he doesn’t want to miss out on is not only annoying—it feels like a punch to the gut.
Dragging my eyes off him, I walk around the bed to where my mom is standing and wringing her hands together. I can only imagine what’s going through her head.
“I’ll come visit tomorrow.” I give her a hug.
“Okay,” she says quietly.
Letting her go, I lean over the side of my dad’s bed. “I’m annoyed with you, but I love you.”
“I love you too.” He kisses my cheek, then adds quietly, “Take it easy on the guy.”
Of course, he’s on Dayton’s side. I know why he thinks it’d be smart for us to be married. We’re having a child, and that is what he would expect of his pregnant, unwed daughter. And although the news of my pregnancy hasn’t hit the gossip cycle amongst his and Mom’s group of friends, I’m sure when it does, most of the people they know will sit up on their high horses and judge the fact that I got pregnant out of wedlock, like they don’t live in glass houses.
Screw them.
After grabbing my bag from the dresser next to the door, I leave the bedroom and can feel Dayton right behind me as I walk down the hall.
“PJ!” I shout. I haven’t seen him for at least thirty minutes, so I have no idea where he might be hiding.
“Franny—”
“I’m not talking to you,” I tell Dayton, stepping through the door into the kitchen when I hear the tinkle of a tiny bell. Going to the pantry, I find PJ sitting next to Dallas’s empty food bowl with an obviously guilty look on his adorable face.
“Seriously?” I sigh. I should have remembered to put Dallas’s cat food up when I got here, but I didn’t, and I’m sure PJ ate it all. “Come on, brat.” I pick him up and turn to leave the pantry but run right into Dayton.
“We need to talk.”
“Not right now.” I scoot around him.
“Francisca,” he clips, and I spin to face him.
“I don’t want to say something I might regret, Dayton, so give me a little time.”
“Fine.” He walks toward me and takes PJ. “But I’m driving you home.”
Not wanting to argue, I follow him out of the house to his SUV that is parked around the curve in the driveway and hurry my steps to pass him so I can open my door for myself, which results in him making a sound in the back of his throat. Handing me PJ once I’m seated, he stares at me for a long moment before he sighs and shuts my door. I put on my seat belt, then drag in a breath as I watch him walk around the hood.
The drive is silent, tension-filled, and absolutely uncomfortable. I hate it, hate every single second that I’m stuck in the cab of his SUV, breathing in his scent, while denying myself the normalcy of reaching over and touching him or having his hand on my thigh, where he always has it when he’s driving.
I’m so mad at him.
No, that’s not true. I’m not mad; I’m hurt. My chest physically aches, because while I’ve been happy in this new place with him—where we’re getting to know each other as more than just friends—he’s obviously thought about us getting married. But not with some romantic notion in mind, where he knows that I’m the one and he can’t imagine life without me. No, he’s thought about it, because it would be smart and easier.
What does that even mean?
I want to ask, but I know that anything I say right now will come out all wrong, and I don’t want to make things worse. I also don’t want to fight with him, and with my emotions already so heightened, I know that I need to tread carefully.
When we get to our block, and he parks, I unhook my seat belt and start to reach for the door handle.
“Don’t even think about it, Francisca,” he snaps, and I freeze. “Even if you’re pissed, I open the door for you.” Getting out, he slams his door and walks around the hood to my door, swinging it open. When my feet are on the ground, he shuts the door and walks at my side to the front of the building, opening that door too.
Stepping inside, I avoid meeting his gaze. “I’ll see you later.”
“When?” he asks my back as I start to walk down the hall to my apartment.
“I don’t know. I’ll call you.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.” I look back at him. God, why does he have to be so fricking beautiful?
“That’s not a good enough answer, Franny,” he growls, and I squeeze my eyes closed.
“I don’t want to do this right now.” I’ve never had to do this. “If I told Matthew I didn’t want to talk, he’d just leave me be. He’d go away an?—”
“And I’m not Matthew,” he cuts me off while I’m scrambling mentally, trying to figure out why I even said that.
Why did I bring up Matthew right now? That was stupid and careless and so mean.
“I’m—” I start to apologize, but he cuts me off again before I can.
“I don’t give a fuck that he felt okay leaving you alone to figure shit out on your own. This is me and you. If we have an issue, we talk and sort it out.”
“Okay, we’ll talk tomorrow.”
“No,” he states.
“You just asked when we would talk, and I told you. Now you’re saying no.”
He shakes his head while staring me straight in the eye. “I’m not giving you an entire evening to sit alone in your apartment and overthink shit, Francisca.”
“Fine, let’s talk.” I give in. It’s obvious that he’s not going to just let me go, and maybe I shouldn’t want to. Leaving after feeling slighted didn’t work in my last relationship, so doing the same thing with him and hoping for a different result in the end is just setting up my own demise.
“Good, but we’re not having this conversation in the middle of a fucking hallway.” He wraps his hand around mine and leads me to the elevator.
Once PJ and I are inside with him, he presses the button for his floor. When the doors open back up, PJ runs to Dayton’s apartment and jumps up, resting his paws on the wood in a wasted attempt to get inside before us. He loves being at Dayton’s as much as I do, and over the last two weeks, we’ve both gotten comfortable in his space, since we’ve stayed over every night since Dad was released from the hospital.
Opening his door, Dayton waits until I’m inside before he steps in behind me, sliding my bag from my shoulder making it clear he plans on me staying.
“All right, let’s talk.” He tosses his keys on the stand next to the door and puts my purse down next to them.
Wrapping my arms around my middle, I draw in a breath, then ask the question, burning the back of my throat. “Why would you tell my dad that we’re getting married?”
“Because it would be smart.”
Smart . I’m really starting to despise that word.
“That’s not a reason to get married, Dayton,” I tell him softly, and the muscle in his jaw flexes.
“All right, then, because I’m fucking selfish.” His fists clench at his sides as his eyes scan mine. “Because you still have your ex-husband’s last name. Because my kid is growing inside you. Because I don’t fucking like the idea of you being able to just walk away and me unable to do shit about it.”
“I wouldn’t just be able to walk away,” I whisper, caught off guard by his honesty and the depth of the emotions wrapped around everything he just said.
“You could.”
“Okay, I could. But even if I had your last name and a ring on my finger, I could still do that. It’s a choice to stay with someone, Dayton. A piece of paper or a last name doesn’t hold someone accountable.” I toss my hand out toward him. “You know I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to get into another relationship without figuring out who I was. But the thing is, I like the person I am when I’m with you. I like that you just let me be me, that you make me laugh, that every time I’m with you, I know there is nowhere else I want to be. I’m so fricking happy it scares me because I have never had this with anyone but you.”
“You have all the power here, Franny.”
“Are you kidding me? You could decide tomorrow that you don’t want to be in a relationship with me and that you don’t want to be a dad and then walk away without me being able to do anything about it. But I’m trusting that, at the end of the day, you’re choosing me and this baby.”
“I’ll always choose you and our child,” he says quietly.
“So trust that I’m choosing you—not because we share the same last name or because it would be easier if we tried to make this work, but because my happiness is twisted up in you,” I whisper, and he closes the distance between us and pulls me into his arms.
“You proved your point.”
“Thank God.” I curl up against his chest. “Arguing with you is exhausting, big guy.”
Using his fingers on my chin, he tips my head back, and I look up at him. “I still want you to change your last name. It might not be a big deal to you, but you don’t belong to him anymore.”
“Okay.” I close my eyes as they fill with tears.
“You’re stuck with me, Franny. Ring or not, for the rest of my life, I’ll choose you.”