Chapter 61
CHAPTER 61
DIXIE
I sat on the enclosed patio of my parents’ house, sipping tea with my father. It wasn’t even seven yet. I hadn’t slept a wink after the wedding. After Diana and Hudson dropped me off, I’d taken a cab to my parents’ place and confronted my mother about her visit to Hayes. My father had been blindsided, knowing nothing about the check or her ultimatum to Hayes. He’d let my mother and me yell and cry at each other until two in the morning.
And then he had enough. He acted like a referee in a boxing ring. He finally called it and told my mother enough. He helped her to bed, leaving me alone in the living room. I wasn’t quite ready to call it a night. She didn’t give me the answers or explanations I wanted. Like why in the hell she thought it would be okay to ask Hayes for money. She offered no good excuses. It was so normal in her world.
I sat in the living room and thought about everything that had happened between me and Hayes. The things he said. With some time, I could see his horrible words came from a place of real pain.
I hurt him. Well, technically, not me, my mother. Her attempt to extort him was horrific. He didn’t know me well enough to know I was not my mother. That I did not know about her attempts to get money out of him. I would never do anything like that.
I knew I should go home, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I never got her to say she was sorry. It wouldn’t change anything, but it would at least give me some peace. I wasn’t leaving until I got something. I didn’t know what, but I was not satisfied.
After sitting in the quiet living room for a while, I made myself some tea and went outside to sit on the covered patio. My father came outside to sit with me shortly after. He said nothing, just turned on the patio heater and settled in.
We’d been sitting here for hours, the heater humming softly, neither of us saying a word. The silence was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that only came when two people had too much to say and no idea where to start. I was sure my dad had about a million questions. I was ready to answer when he found the words he was looking for. He hadn’t said much since I stormed into the house, but I could tell he was processing everything.
“Dixie, I need you to know that I had no idea about your mother’s… actions. If I had known, I would have put a stop to it immediately.”
I nodded. “I believe you, Dad. But it still happened. And it’s just so messed up. I don’t even know how to fix this.”
My father sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. “Your mother has always been driven by her own insecurities. She thinks money solves everything. It doesn’t excuse what she did, but I think she genuinely thought she was protecting you.”
“Protecting me?” I asked, my voice rising slightly. “How is trying to extort money from Hayes protecting me? It just made everything worse!”
“I know, sweetheart. And I’m not defending her. But you have to understand—your mother has a warped sense of what security looks like. She’s spent her whole life chasing it, and she’s never really found it. Money, to her, is safety. Control. It’s the only thing she knows how to latch onto when she feels things slipping away. That doesn’t make it right, but it’s how she operates. She knows how hard it is to raise a child. Doing it on your own is going to be tough.”
“It’s not an excuse, Dad. She hurt me. She hurt Hayes. And now I don’t even know if he’ll ever trust me again. How do I fix that? How do I fix anything?”
“You can’t control what your mother did, Dixie. But you can control how you move forward. If Hayes is worth a damn, he’ll get over the insult. You show him who you are, not who your mother tried to make you out to be.”
I swallowed hard, tears welling in my eyes. “What if it’s too late?”
“Then he was never going to stick around.”
I knew he was mostly right. I nodded and once again we fell into silence.
“Have you been to the doctor yet?” Dad asked quietly.
“Yes,” I said, my voice soft. “Bloodwork soon. So far, everything is going well.”
He nodded. “Good.”
There were a hundred things I wanted to ask him. Are you mad that I got pregnant? Are you mad at Mom? Do you think she was wrong? Do you think I can do this? But none of those questions came out. Instead, I asked the one that had been gnawing at me for years. The one that, if I was being completely honest, was holding me back.
“Why have you and Mom always cared more about Frankie than me?” I asked quietly.
My father went still. The silence that followed was torture. I regretted the question almost immediately.
“It’s okay,” I said quickly. “Forget I asked.”
But my father turned to look at me, his expression serious. “Your mother and I failed you a long time ago, Dixie. And we were never able to find our way back.”
I blinked, surprised by his honesty. I had expected him to deny it.
“You’ve always seemed fine without us,” he continued, his voice tinged with regret. “We never doubted you’d be okay. Frankie, on the other hand, has always needed more—more attention, more time, more money. She seeks us out and leans on us. Frankie has never really been totally independent. Yes, she’s finding success, but she still requires a lot of reassurance. You were never like that. You marched to your own drum early on, struck out on your own, and failed on your own. You never invited us in. You seemed determine to forge your own way. If we did try to offer help or advice, you shrugged it off and kept moving forward.”
He paused, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I never should have let that happen. I should have figured out how you needed me to show up instead of taking it as a rejection. It’s always been my biggest regret, losing my way of connecting and understanding you. You deserved better. We both should have put in more effort. You shouldn’t have had to develop such thick skin and feel like you couldn’t lean on us when you really needed to.”
Tears welled in my eyes. I reached over to take his hand. He squeezed mine, his grip warm and reassuring. I felt like he was infusing me with the dad strength I didn’t realize I needed all this time.
“Congratulations about the baby,” he said.
I looked at him, searching his face. “Do you really mean that?”
He nodded. “I do. I know you’ll be a wonderful mother, Dixie. The love you’re about to experience is going to rock the ground beneath your feet. I’m grateful I get to see it. Your mom wants grandchildren. She’ll come around.”
I never expected this shift with my father, but it felt incredible. I no longer felt completely alone in the world. “I wish I’d asked you that question sooner,” I said, my voice trembling. “We could have had this conversation years ago.”
“It was never on you to make the conversation happen. I should have done it.” He shook his head. “So, what do you want to do about this Bancroft of yours?”
I paused, my mind racing. I had been thinking about it all night. I was torn, but after a lot of time, I knew what I needed to do. “I don’t think I want to do anything about him besides forget.”
Just saying the words hurt like hell, but I believed it was the only way forward.
“Don’t make any decisions just yet,” he said. “Things are chaotic right now, but you have time. You’ve been through a lot. You don’t have to do all of this on your own.”
“Thank you, Dad. I really needed to hear that.”
The heater’s warmth wrapped around us. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on my chest didn’t feel quite so crushing. I could breathe a little easier knowing I wasn’t completely alone in this mess. I realized something I hadn’t before—he wasn’t just trying to fix things for me. He was trying to fix things between us.
“You know, I think I’ve been holding on to a lot of anger. Not just about Mom or Frankie or everything. But about you too. And maybe I didn’t even realize it until now.”
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “That’s fair. Anger’s easy to carry when you don’t feel seen.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “And I think part of me always thought that if I just kept going, kept pushing forward, it wouldn’t matter. That I could prove I didn’t need anyone. But it does matter. It always mattered. I pretended I didn’t need anyone because it was easier for me to push it all to the side.”
He nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. “It’s hard to admit when we need people, especially when we’ve spent so much time convincing ourselves we don’t. But needing someone doesn’t make you weak, Dixie. It makes you human.”
I wiped at my eyes, feeling the vulnerability of the moment. “I think I’m starting to see that now.”
“Good,” he said. “Because you’re about to bring a little human into the world who’s going to need you more than anyone ever has. And you’re going to need people too—not just to help with the baby, but to remind you that you’re not alone in this. That’s not a flaw. That’s just life. Raising a baby is hard. It’s exhausting. Your mom is thinking about the financial strain, but I’m thinking about you.”
I felt a lump rise in my throat at his words. He wasn’t wrong. The thought of raising this child alone terrified me, but admitting that out loud felt like admitting defeat. I’d spent so long convincing myself I could handle anything life threw at me, but this? This was different. This wasn’t just about me anymore.
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” I admitted softly, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “What if I mess this up?”
My dad chuckled. “You’re going to mess up. That’s part of being a parent. But you’re also going to love that baby more than you ever thought possible. And that love? It’ll guide you through the hard parts. We made mistakes raising you guys.”
“Do you think Mom will ever change?” I asked.
He sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. “Your mother is complicated. She loves you. Know that. It’s just not easy for her to express it.”
“That’s an understatement.” I felt better. I didn’t know what I was trying to resolve, but it was as far as it was going to get. “I’m going to go.”
“I’ll take you home,” he offered.
“No. It’s fine. You should get some sleep. I’ll take a cab. Thanks for hanging out with me.”
My mother never came out of the bedroom.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Dad said as he walked me to the door.
I climbed into the back of a cab, texting Frankie to see if she was free, when my phone rang.
Hayes’s name flashed on the screen. I stared at it, unsure if I should answer. If I really wanted to forget him, all I had to do was ignore the call and block him.
And yet, I answered.
“Dixie,” Hayes said, his voice sounding distant, like he was far away. “Can you meet up today so we can talk about last night? I have a lot of apologies to make and explaining to do.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself. “The taco truck by the carwash on my street. Five o’clock.”
I hung up before he could respond. This time, we were doing things on my turf. No Bancroft bells and whistles, no distractions. Just us.