5. Brunch
Chapter 5
Brunch
Tatum || 10 weeks pregnant, August
T he drive to Darcy’s parent's estate is silent, Darcy is radiating anxious energy. Fiddling with the ring I know she stole from Kodi’s stash, blowing out a big breath now and again. I want to break the silence, and make her laugh before we enter their home.
“Well darling, it does appear that the weather has held up for our cricket game.” I spit out in that horrific accent again, a snort escapes her nose before I continue. “I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, but it’ll be okay, D.”
“You haven’t met Lorraine and Steven Whitestone. If they don’t get what they want, they become totally different people. I’m used to it, but I don’t want you to have to deal with it.”
“You’re right, I haven’t met them. But, I do know how to respectfully stand up for myself and for the mother of my child.” I mean every word I say—she might not be mine, but she is someone that deserves respect and I will continue to back her up.
“Let’s get this over with. At least the food will be good,” she sighs.
I park the car next to the others lined along the driveway. I jump out, opening her door and helping her out of the car. I let her lead the way up to the front door, walking close enough that her light vanilla scent wafts towards me as we approach the home that gives a particular old money vibe. Grandiose white bricks, black shutters flanking many windows and an absence of more modern architectural elements imply this building has been around since the eighteen hundreds.
“Listen I know how this looks but my Mom’s favorite movie is Gone with the Wind and says this house is an exact replica of one she saw in the movie,” Darcy explains. “This isn’t a family home passed down for generations. We have wealth… Just, not the kind that is associated with this type of home.”
Before I have any chance to respond, the large wooden doors swing open. A woman who looks just like Darcy, but thirty years in the future, awaits, clothed in a pristine floral print dress, a disapproving look, and a ring the size of my eyeball on her left hand. I watch Darcy’s shoulders immediately tense as the woman I presume to be her mother pulls her into a hug.
“Hey, Mom.” The lack of excitement in Darcy’s tone isn’t lost on me. She pulls away quickly from her mothers embrace, taking one too many steps backwards, and ends up with her back smooshed against my front. “Oops, sorry.”
“It’s okay, D. Take a breath,” I whisper just loud enough for her to hear before she moves forward, dropping her shoulders back down to a comfortable position. I take this opportunity to step forward with an extended hand, “Mrs. Whitestone.”
“You must be Tatum. I’m Lorraine.” She takes my hand, visibly inspecting me, probably looking for a wrinkle in my shirt or tattoos which are hidden beneath my pristine blue button up shirt.
“Please, call me Tate. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Whitestone.”
“Okay, Tate. Let’s get you both inside, brunch is nearly ready.” Lorraine guides us through her home into a dining area where a man with white hair sits, sipping on coffee based on the fragrance. A spread of fruit, pastries, juices, bacon, waffles, eggs and other foods are on the giant spruce table in front of us.
“Darcy, it’s about time you joined us,” The man says without looking up at us, as if we aren’t early.
“Nice to see you too, Father,” Darcy forces out. I bite my tongue attempting not to ruin brunch before it’s even started.
“Steven, Darcy brought her boyfriend, Tate, with her today.” Mrs. Whitestone interjects and he finally looks up meeting my eyes. At this point neither Darcy nor myself has corrected her, but they are definitely in for some news.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” I say, as Darcy grabs my hand, pulling me to sit beside her at the table. She doesn’t let it go as we sit, squeezing my hand tightly—I don’t know if she’s doing it for her benefit or mine.
“Pleasure. So, Tatum, what is it that you do for work?” Steven asks.
“Oh we’re getting right to business then, I see.” I chuckle lightly until it appears I’m the only one in on the joke. “Well sir, I manage PR and schedules for a few players on the Tampa Bay Manta Rays.” What they don’t know is how I was supposed to be one of those players, but I brush the sour memory aside. Now isn’t the time for self pity.
“Fascinating. Our Darcy isn’t big on sports, so I’m curious how you two met.” Lorraine interrupts.
“Mom, I’ve already told you that I met him through Kodi and Maverick. Tatum was Mav’s best man in their wedding,” Darcy recounts with a tight, sterile smile. “And to set the record straight, Tate is not my boyfriend.”
“You brought a friend to a family brunch?” Lorraine questions pointedly, like it is out of the question she would bring platonic friends to family events.
“Yes, Mom, I did, and for good reason.” Darcy exhales and I know the bandaid is about to be ripped off. I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Mom, I’m pregnant, Tatum is the father, and we will be raising our child together, but we’re not in a romantic relationship. We’re going to co-parent.”
“What do you mean you will be co-parenting?” Lorraine gasps. I can see Darcy wrestling to hold back her eye roll.
“It means that even though Darcy and I aren’t dating, we both will be involved in our child's life. We’re a team,” I interject.
“I don’t think anyone asked you, son,” her father growls, shooting daggers at me with his eyes. I know it isn’t ideal for us to not be together, but I didn’t expect to be met with hostility when we quite literally are sitting in front of them showing them that we are in this together. Why isn’t that enough?
“Well, Dad, that’s what we have decided to do. This is our child, end of story.”
I squeeze her hand—a silent praise for standing up for herself, and a reminder that I’ve got her back.
“Are you saying a wedding is entirely out of the question? At any point?” Her mom counters indignantly, I look to Darcy, trying to gauge her reaction. There’s undeniably chemistry between us, but I doubt she cares for me in the same manner I’ve begun to feel for her.
“Mom, let it go. Tatum treats me well.” When she says that, a small bloom of hope fires up on the outskirts of the anger that's been simmering since this conversation with her parents began.
If mice existed in this home, you would be able to hear them scurry across the floor as the room seems to fall out of time, an uncomfortable hush filling the space. However, it’s short-lived, before Steven’s face turns the most ferocious red and he erupts, startling the three of us.
“That is unacceptable Darcy. You can’t go and whore yourself out, then bring random men into my home,” he booms, “expecting me to welcome them with open arms. You’re so selfish, did you, even once, consider how badly this will reflect on our family’s reputation? You will marry him or you will no longer be welcome in this home or this family.”
Beside me, I hear a small whimper and out of the corner of my eye, I see that Darcy has tears running down her cheeks. Lorraine’s face is tight, her lips pursed tightly, nodding her head in agreement with her husband. My vision blurs as my better judgement is smothered by rage, boiling up within me, I drop Darcy’s hand, squeezing my fists at my side, white-knuckled and shaking, so I don’t cross-check this man for disrespecting the mother of my child like that. How could he call his own child such a vile name with no hint of remorse?
I take a deep breath and hold it for just a moment, giving order to the chaos in my brain. In as level of a tone as I can muster, I let him have it. “You know what? The fact that you aren’t even the least bit excited about your new grandchild, and having the gall to call your own child a whore tells me everything I need to know about you. You've made it clear to me that I don’t want you to have any role in my child's life.” Steven glares in response, seething, but I can’t find a single fuck to give about what he has going on behind those soulless windows often misunderstood as his eyes. I extend a hand towards Darcy, helping her up and pulling her into my side, my arm protectively wrapped around her shoulder. “Darcy, I think we should go. Your parents clearly don’t deserve to be part of our child's life nor do they want to be.”
Lorraine follows behind us, desperate to capture our attention as we exit the estate's front doors. She’s now a blubbering mess, like she wasn’t in blind agreement with her husband's decisions two minutes ago.
“Darcy,” she wails between sobs, “Please… you know your daddy doesn’t mean any of that!”
I don’t slow down as I proceed to walk Darcy to the car, opening her door and closing it behind her. I hop in and peel out of the driveway, placing my hand on Darcy’s knee before speaking, “I am so sorry that he said those things to you, he’s just an uptight prick. You deserve better , Darcy.”
She lets out an exasperated, hollow laugh. “That went way worse than I thought it was going to. I…” She sniffles, “I expected them to be upset, expected my Mom to try and start planning a wedding before being sorely disappointed. I didn’t expect to be called a whore and disowned.”
“Would a Coke Icee make you feel better?” I ask, squeezing her knee gently as I continue back into town towards our place.
“It wouldn’t hurt to try it.” I catch a small smile in my periphery. “Do you think it will go better with your parents tomorrow?”
“I know for a fact that it will. But, if you aren’t feeling up to it after today, we can reschedule.”
“That might be a good idea. I don’t want to go into tomorrow feeling so freshly heartbroken.”
“Okay, do you mind if I call my mom real quick?” I ask.
“Go ahead, I feel bad. Tell her I’m sorry.”
I press call on my mom’s contact and her sweet yet calming voice filters through the car speakers. “Hi, Tate. You're on speaker with dad.”
“Hey guys, just wanted to call about tomorrow. I’m going to come to dinner alone, Darcy isn’t feeling well. Can we reschedule for, let's say, three weeks from today?” I look to Darcy for confirmation and she nods her head at me.
“Oh, I’m sorry she isn’t feeling well, but yes, we’d still love to meet her.” My mom’s empathy radiating through the phone call.
“She’s looking forward to it, too, and is sorry to miss tomorrow. I’ll still swing by tomorrow night.”
“Sounds good, we love you. Send our love to Darcy.”
“Will do, love you guys.” Then the line goes dead and I see Darcy smile softly from the corner of my eyes, hoping this has helped her feel a little better after the shit show that was today. After securing her Icee, we head home so she can rest.