29. Dakota
The front door opens as I’m taking the roasting pan out of the oven. “It smells so good,” Christopher says. “Wash your hands.”
“Okay,” the girls reply, running to the bathroom while I look over and see him walking into the kitchen.
“Hey.” I put the baking dish on the top of the stove, taking off the baking gloves when his hands rest on my hips. “Did you wash your hands?” I turn in his arms, seeing him smirk. It’s been almost two weeks since our trip was cut short because Luna was sick. Two weeks of him staying over when he’s in town. So far, it hasn’t been much, and if I’m honest, I miss him a ridiculous amount when he’s gone.
“I did not,” he admits, leaning in to kiss me softly on the lips. Then hearing the girls run our way, he lets me go to wash his hands in the sink. Even though he’s been here in my bed when the girls wake up, and he holds my hand when we sit or go anywhere, he still hasn’t kissed me in front of the girls. I don’t know if he’s giving them a chance to get used to him or if he’s just not ready yet, but whatever it is, I won’t push him.
“What’s for dinner?” Rain asks when she walks into the kitchen, wiping her wet hands on her black tights. It was an impromptu night of hockey. When they got home from school, Christopher asked if he could take them to the rink to skate. I didn’t even have a chance to answer before the girls had their bags ready to go.
“Roasted chicken and veggies.” I grab the plates. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes.” She nods, going to her stool that is next to Christopher’s. Something she started doing when he started sleeping over. The four of us sit down at the counter talking about the day, when out of the blue Rain turns to Christopher.
“Were you and my dad best friends?” The question shocks us both. My fork falls from my hand with a clank on the plate. Christopher’s face pales just a little, but then he quickly turns to her.
“Yes,” he answers softly as my heart races faster and faster. “Yes, he was.”
“Was he nice to everyone?” She looks over at Christopher, waiting for him to answer.
“He was,” he says, smiling at her. “One year, when the rookies came in, he made sure that he took them out for dinner and gave them his number.”
“Did you do that too?” she asks, and I pick up my fork, not to eat anything but to keep my hands busy.
“I did,” he says.
“What was the nicest thing he did?” The question is so pure, and I hold my breath. The only two things Benji ever did that were nice were give me my girls.
“He did a lot of things that were nice,” Christopher says. “But I think the nicest thing would have been when we went to visit some sick kids in the hospital, and he paid for the family to come to one of the games,” he shares, sniffling. “He was also a jokester.” He pushes the plate away from him as he turns with fondness in his eyes, and I see the tears are there. “One year, when we were back from summer vacation, I walked into the locker room, and he had taped all my equipment together with three rolls of tape.” He laughs. “And then he shoved little pieces of tape in the fingers of my gloves. It took forever for me to get them out.” He is animated with his hands, making the girls laugh.
“What did you do?” Rain asks, the smile filling her face.
“The next year—” He starts, laughing at himself. “I filled his skates and his gloves with gum.” Even I laugh. “It took me over three hours to chew all those pieces. It was stuck to his socks, and he tried to peel them off, but they were wet.” He throws his head back and laughs. “He tried to shake it off his hands, and one flew in another skate. We didn’t know whose skate until Cole stepped out of his skate and stuck to the floor.” We all laugh at the memories. “It was a good time.” He leans back in his chair.
“That’s funny,” Rain says before she changes the subject, and I see that Christopher has gotten quiet. After all of this, I have to remember that he lost one of his best friends. No matter how much I feel toward him, he needs to be able to talk about it. He’s been so incredible to give me what I need, I somehow forgot I have to be that for him also. I also know it’s time to have the talk I’ve been scared to have with him. It’s sort of the last little piece I’ve been keeping to myself. But if this is going to happen, and I really want it to happen, he has to have all of it.
“Okay, finish up,” I say to the girls. “It’s late, and neither of you have taken a bath yet.”
I push away from the island, avoiding looking at Christopher as I walk over to the sink.
“I’ve got this,” he states from behind me. “Go get the girls settled.”
“Okay.” I put my plate in the sink and walk around him, gathering the girls and pushing them toward the stairs.
My hands start to shake when they finish their showers and get into pj’s. They shake even more when I hear him coming up the stairs to say good night to them.
“Good night.” I kiss Luna on the cheek before walking out and coming face-to-face with Christopher. “I have to use the bathroom,” I say, my voice shaking as I bend my head and make my way to my bathroom.
I walk to the sink, turning on the cold water as my neck gets hot. “It’s going to be fine,” I tell myself, not sure my heart will be able to handle it if it’s over.
I close my eyes, not ready to think about it for much longer before I chicken out again and don’t tell him. I was initially going to tell him on vacation, but then I just wanted it to be about us. About him and about me. Call me selfish, but that is all I wanted.
I unlock the door and step out, coming to a halt when I see him sitting on my bed with his hands on his knees and his head hanging down. “Hey,” I say softly, looking at him for the first time, seeing his face ravaged.
I take a step toward him but stop when his words come out almost broken. “I’m sorry,” he says, halting me again in my steps. “I didn’t know what to say when she asked me about him.”
Oh. My. God. “It’s her dad, and she needs to be proud of him until she’s old enough to know better. Until then, I can’t be the one to tell her the truth.” If I didn’t think I loved this man before this moment, then I would have fallen in love with him right now. Right here, in the middle of my brand-new bedroom that is practically ours since he has some of his clothes in the chair in the corner. Along with his razor on the side of his sink and a couple of suits in my closet.
“But if you want, when we talk about him, I’ll try to do it when you don’t have to hear it.”
“I would never do that,” I say, standing in front of him now, his hands coming to my hips and pulling me closer. “There is something I need to tell you.” I take a step back and out of his reach, knowing if he touches me, I’ll forget what I have to say. “And I know that it can be shocking, but I figured that this thing between us is getting a little serious.”
“You can say that, baby.” His voice is soft. “I don’t know what you call a little serious, but we’ll discuss that after you say what you have to say.”
I try not to get too wrapped up in what he’s saying and how he’s saying it. I also try to focus on the words I want to say. “When Benji died, I found out a lot of things,” I say nervously. “Things that were not easy to come to terms with.” I look at him but then look down at my fingers, wringing them. “Some things I knew before.” I can’t stop the tears from pouring out of my eyes, but it’s not because I’m angry about what I discovered. It’s because I’m not sure if he’ll look at me the same way after this. “Three weeks after he died,” I say and look at him, “there was a knock on the door. I opened it, and there was a man I had never seen before. I had no idea who he even was.” I take a deep breath. “He informed me that he was Benji’s friend.”
“His friend?” Christopher asks, his eyebrows pinched together.
“His friend,” I repeat. “But in reality, it was his drug dealer.” My hands shake when I see his eyes go big. “He was there to collect on his debt.”
Christopher shoots to his feet. “Excuse me?” His voice is thick with rage.
“It seemed that he fronted him with some stuff.” I hold up my hands and shake my head at the same time. “And now he wanted to be paid for said stuff.”
“What is his name?” His voice fills with venom, but I ignore it, continuing with the story.
“Benji owed him close to two hundred thousand dollars,” I whisper, “and now that debt was mine. Ours. Mine and the girls.”
“Dakota,” he growls through clenched teeth.
“So I called Eddie up when he left. I was a fucking mess and had no idea what to do. Obviously, I had money in the account, but I wasn’t going to go to the bank and ask them to give me two hundred thousand dollars in a bag.” He takes a step toward me, but I hold up my hand, shaking my head. “Eddie came over and tried to calm me down. Told me not to worry about it and he would take care of it. I didn’t know what he meant until I found out that Benji has always struggled with substance abuse.” I see more shock fill his face. “Started when he was sixteen. They got a ‘handle on it’”—I use air quotes with my fingers—“as Eddie said, when he was nineteen. I have no idea if he was ever not fucking high. It was also the day I let Eddie know I never wanted to see him again. He could see the girls, but for me, I would never sit down at a table with him again. I would never share the same space as him. Instead of helping me when he saw a problem, he pushed it under the rug. I could forgive a lot of things, and maybe in time, I’ll change my mind, but for now, I don’t want to talk to him. He calls every Sunday to talk to the kids, but that’s where it ends.” I tremble. “I paid off the debt. I wrote a check and told him that was all he was getting from me.” I put my hand in front of my mouth to stop the sob. “That is who I think of when I think of Benji.”
“Baby.” Christopher cups my face in his hands. “How could you do that?” I wait for the anger to come in his voice. “How could you put yourself in danger like that?” His head shakes side to side. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“And tell you what?” I ask. “There was nothing to say. You would have probably gone apeshit over it, paid the debt off, and lied to me about it.”
I can see in his eyes that what I just said is what he would have done. “I was coming back,” he says, “and I was staging an intervention.” Now his words are the ones that shock me. “I didn’t give a shit what he said or what he did. I was taking him to get help.” I see the tears escape his eyes. “I never got that chance.”
My hands come to his sides, bunching his shirt in my hands. “I’ll never forgive myself for not doing it sooner.”
“Even if you did it sooner,” I tell him, “he was the one who had to hit rock bottom.”
“There are days when I hate him,” he admits softly, “but then there are days, like tonight, when I think of the good times.”
“You’re a good man,” I tell him.
“I don’t know about that.” He kisses my lips softly. “Because I wouldn’t trade you and the girls for him.” I see the anguish. “The girls are his, but you—” His voice is tight. “You’re mine. I’m not sorry you’re mine. I might be sorry about how it happened, but no way in fuck am I sorry for that. So I’m not sure I’m a good man.”
“The girls, they’re mine,” I correct him, “and you have to know with the way they worship you that they think the world of you.”
“I love you.” Three words I’ve been saying to him silently every single time I look at him. Three words I say to him while I look at him right before he takes me in his arms to fall asleep. Three words I say every single time he slides into me. “I love the girls.”
“I said it first,” I counter quickly. “Every single time you hang up the phone, I tell you I love you.” His smirk makes me smile.
“I don’t think that counts.” He steps closer to me. “Now, is that all you got?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“This last secret,” he says. “Is it all you’ve got?”
“It’s a pretty big one.” I gawk at him.
“So was mine,” he counters, and he’s not wrong. “You forgive me?”
“For what?” I jump back, his hands falling from my face.
“For not doing anything sooner. For not being the stand-up guy you think I am.”
“I’ve forgiven Benji,” I admit. “Tonight, here in the room, telling you my last secret I had held on to. Telling you I’ve let him go. I’ve forgiven him as much as I can.”
“I love you,” he says again, and I huff out.
“You can’t say it again.” I fold my arms over my chest. “You have to give me a chance to say it.”
“Baby, I love you.”
“Christopher,” I hiss, “you have to give me a chance.”
“You had two chances; you didn’t say it. I’m not going to not say it.” He takes my lips in a kiss. It’s hard and wet, and by the end of it, I’m plastered to his front.
“I love you,” I say breathlessly. “Ha, said it first.”
“Before,” he says, “you asked me if this is serious.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “Just so you know.” His hands grip my hips. “It’s as serious as forever.”
The gasp leaves my mouth. “I thought you would hate me for what I did and for keeping it from you,” I admit.
“Oh, we’re going to discuss you keeping this from me,” he warns, “but we’ll do that naked so I can smack that ass of yours.” He bends now, his forehead to mine. “I love you, baby.”