3. Daire
3
DAIRE
“This is beautiful,” Rosie says, taking in the open living space on the second floor of the townhouse. It’s the third place we’ve looked at today. The tenth this week. “It’s so open. Don’t you think?” She turns to me, brows lifted and wearing a tentative smile.
I have to give her credit, she’s trying.
“Mhm.” I jerk my head in a nod.
“Don’t forget to check out the deck,” Lizzie, our realtor singsongs. “It’s beautiful. Has a pergola too.”
We take the stairs up to the top floor and check out the rooms.
“This one would be great for Junior, don’t you think?” Rosie elbows me as she peeks into the large bedroom that looks out at the park behind the row of townhomes. Since I still don’t even know my son’s name, she’s taken to calling him Junior.
“Yeah.”
With a chest-heaving sigh, she cranes her neck, searching for Lizzie. When she confirms she’s not within earshot, she pulls me into the room and shuts the door.
“Why do you act like I’m the one dragging you into this? Might I remind you, I’m the one helping you out? I actually enjoy living in the dorms with Bertie, but here I am, prepping to move out. Again, because I’m helping you.”
I blow out a breath. My attitude is shit, and that’s unfair to her. This isn’t just a lot of change for me, but for her as well.
“I’m sorry.”
Her jaw drops, but it only takes a heartbeat for that expression to turn into a sly grin. Then she slow claps. “Wow, mark this down in the history books. Daire Hendricks can apologize.”
“Shut up,” I grumble.
She sucks in a breath like she’s ready to go on, but instead, she swallows down her next comment and squares her shoulders. “Do you like any of the places we’ve looked at?”
Rubbing at my jaw, I mutter, “They’re okay, I guess.”
With a frustrated groan, she drops her head back. When she straightens, several emotions flicker over her face—annoyance, exhaustion, resolve.
“All right, what are you looking for that these places are missing?”
I shrug, swallowing back my thoughts.
“Daire.” She covers her face. “Use your big boy words. Give me something to work with.”
There’s a knock on the door then, and Lizzie cracks it open. “Is everything okay in here?”
“Oh, yeah.” Rosie smiles at her. “Just give us a minute.”
“Take your time.” She backs away and eases the door shut, leaving us alone again.
“Think,” Rosie says to me, hands on her hips. “What is it you want that none of these places have?”
I grit my teeth and duck my head. “It’s stupid.”
“I’m sure it’s not. Tell me.”
I look away, muttering, “A playground.” But it comes out sounding more like a grunt than actual words.
“A what?” she asks, her voice pitched high. She’s clearly trying not to laugh at me at this point. Can’t say I blame her.
“A. Playground,” I carefully enunciate. “I want to go down a slide with him and push him in a swing.”
Fuck, it sounds so stupid coming out of my mouth, but I do.
She presses her lips together, fighting a smile, even as her eyes dance. “He’s a little young, don’t you think?”
“I mean when he’s a little bigger. They have those baby swings and stuff.” I scratch at the back of my head.
“We can have a playground installed at any of these places—does that make any of them more appealing to you?”
My chest tightens as I consider several we’ve looked at. “This one is nice, I guess. I like the kitchen.”
“Okay,” she says slowly. “Do you want to put in an offer?”
Do I?
How is it possible that proposing to Rosie was easier than committing to a house?
Probably because the marriage is entirely fake, while buying a house and being a father is all too real. I don’t know how to be a dad. Why the fuck do they not have classes for this shit? I don’t even know how to change a diaper.
“Why do you look like you’re panicking all over again?”
I cover my face with my hands. “Because I don’t even know how to change a diaper.”
“Oh.” She frowns, adjusting the strap of her purse. “I don’t know how either.” Quickly, she adds “We’ll take classes?” with an ease that surprises me.
“Wait, there are classes?”
“Not at school, if that’s what you mean, but there are classes at the hospital, or maybe a community center. I’ll look into it for us.”
My heart pounds out a quick rhythm in my chest. “Both of us?”
She lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I need to know how to do these things too.”
“Right,” I say, drawing out the word.
“What about a nanny? Are we going to need one of those? We still have to get through college.”
I run my fingers through my hair, jittery with agitation. “I… I don’t know. We’ll have to figure that out based on what kind of custody I get.”
“There’s something else that’s bothering you.” I hate that after all this time, after all the distance between us, she still knows my tells so well. “Spill, Hendricks.”
“It’s stupid.”
“You’re stupid. Tell me something I don’t know.” She wipes beneath her eye with her middle finger.
This woman is infuriating. If I didn’t need her so badly, I’d be more than happy to march her right out the front door and say see you later.
“I never planned on staying in this town.”
She cocks her head to the side, but she remains silent, listening.
“I thought I’d leave after college. Move to Manhattan or Chicago or even London and work out of one of those offices for my dad. I didn’t… this isn’t what I pictured, okay?”
But if I want to have any chance at a custody agreement and actually being in my son’s life, I need to be here. The court almost always rules in favor of the mother, according to my attorney, so if having a relationship with my kid means I have to stay here in small-town Tennessee, then that’s what I’ll do.
Her shoulders soften, and sympathy floods her face. “That makes sense. I didn’t even think about how much this changes your plans.”
“Mhm,” I hum, rubbing my jaw. “This is what I get for not using a condom one time.” I grind out the last part. Fuck, I was such a fool.
“Well.” She plants her hands on her hips. “All you can do now is make the best of it. So, what do you think of this place? Or should we keep looking?”
I sigh, taking in the details of the room we’re sequestered in—the one she said would be perfect for… Junior. I hate that her ridiculous nickname is sticking in my brain.
“I like this one fine.”
“But you don’t love it?”
I shake my head.
She nods once and heads for the door. “Then we keep looking.”
Hours later, I slide into the booth seat across from Rosie at the steakhouse she chose for dinner. It’s a far cry from the usual place I hang with my friends closer to campus.
Exhaustion sits heavy in my bones, but I put in an offer on the final townhouse we looked at in the historic part of town. Rosie’s eyes lit up the second we stepped inside. Even I had to agree it was nice. A sweeping staircase led to the second level, and the place was wider than the typical townhome. It felt like a home, which is what I’d been searching for but hadn’t been able to voice. When we went out back and there was a playset in the small courtyard, one Lizzie confirmed would be staying, I knew we’d finally found the one.
“I’m starving.” Rosie scans the menu, swaying slightly in her seat. She used to do the same thing when we were younger. “You’re buying, right?” She arches her brow in question over the top of the menu. “Since you’re going to be my husband and all, you have to take care of me.” She tacks on a wink at the end.
“Yes.” I slide the fancy-looking pepper grinder back and forth to busy my hands.
“In that case, we’re getting appetizers.”
I won’t complain. I scarfed down a bowl of cereal for breakfast and haven’t eaten since. She’s probably in a similar situation, since we looked at homes straight through lunchtime.
Stifling a yawn, she sets the menu down. “Are you happy with your choice?”
“Our choice,” I correct, picking up my glass of water. I gulp half of it down quickly, then wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I might be an asshole, but I realize that Rosie is stuck with me through this for what could be a few years, so I want her to like the place too. “And yes, are you?”
“I think it’s perfect.”
“Hopefully my offer is accepted.”
With a snort, she pulls a tube of expensive-looking lip balm from her purse. “You offered way more than they were asking. You’ll get it.”
I sit up straighter and swallow past the lump that’s been lodged in my throat since the realtor submitted our offer. “I wanted to make sure we got it.”
“We, huh?” Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to laugh at me.
“It was a figure of speech,” I grind out.
Just then, our perky waitress appears at the side of the table. She’s probably a year or two younger than me, with glossy brown hair, big brown eyes, and pink lips. She’s gorgeous and exactly my type, but alas, I’m celibate for the near future.
“What can I get you guys?” Her voice soft, almost shy.
“We’ll take an order of the avocado egg rolls, and I’ll have a Caesar salad and fries.” She passes over her menu.
“Uh… the filet for me. Medium.”
“Any other drinks?” she asks.
Elbows on the table, Rosie laces her fingers and rests her chin on the bridge they form. “Your most expensive bottle of wine.”
“Oh?” The waitress smiles at her. “What are you celebrating?”
Rosie pastes on the biggest smile. “Our engagement.” She holds up her left hand. “No ring yet. He was just so excited that he proposed without one. When you know, you know.” She winks over at me.
I cover my face and huff out a long breath.
What the hell have I gotten myself into? Why didn’t I listen more in sex ed?
“Wow.” The waitress looks back and forth between the two of us. “That’s so romantic.”
“That’s my little snuggle muffin.” Rosie reaches across the table for my hand. “Such a romantic at heart. He learned to crochet this past Valentine’s so he could make me a bear.”
I’m pretty sure the girl waiting on us is about to swoon over these scenarios Rosie is fabricating.
“A bear?” she gushes. “That’s so cute. Can I see your IDs first?”
Sitting up, I pull out my wallet and license, then slide it over. Rosie does the same.
“Great!” She hands our IDs back. “Let me go put this in and bring your wine.”
“Thanks, Brittany.” Rosie’s voice is pure cheer.
“Her name’s Brittany?” I ask, frowning at our server as she crosses the dining room.
Rosie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, she came up to the table and said Hi, my name is Brittany. What can I get you guys? Were you not listening?”
“I missed that first part,” I mumble.
She takes a sip of her water and bites down on the straw as she mutters, “Of course you did.”
I check my phone, hoping to find texts from my friends waiting, but there’s nothing. Irritation has my teeth clenching. My world is imploding, and Cree is too busy running after a girl he thinks is the one who got away. Newsflash, she’s just a girl. Nothing special. I shoot him a text, just a simple Hey, what are you doing? but I doubt I’ll hear from him anytime soon.
“I don’t think I’ve ever known of you to be this quiet.” She takes another sip of water. “It’s weird.”
I look up and set my phone face down on the table. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“Right.” She cringes. “Makes sense.”
Awkward silence settles around us. It’s weird sitting across from someone I used to know everything about who is now a virtual stranger.
“What’s your major?” I ask her.
She arches a manicured dark brow at me. “You’re seriously asking me about my major? That’s like talking about the weather.” With a shake of her head, she adds, “I’m studying to be a nutrition therapist.”
“Because of your mom?”
She nods sadly, her eyes dropping to the table like the whorls in the wood are the most fascinating things she’s ever seen. It pisses me off to know that her mom is still so obsessed over Rosie’s weight. She’s perfect the way she is. She always has been. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. Sorry doesn’t make it any better, and it certainly doesn’t fix the problem.
“It is what it is, but yeah, she’s why I wanted to go down this path. Not that I need to work, but…” She trails off, shrugging her shoulders.
She’s right. Her dad is the sole heir to an entire chain of hotels, so she’s set for life. I can’t judge, not when I’m in the same situation with my own father. I have to applaud Rosie for going to college and working to get her degree when she could’ve spent the last few years partying and traveling. Her parents are far more lenient than my dad, who insisted that all of us boys attend college.
“Here’s that bottle of wine for you guys.” The waitress sets down two glasses, then she opens the bottle and fills each one halfway.
“Thank you so much.” Rosie holds the stem, swirling the liquid around slowly.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Your avocado egg rolls should be out shortly,” she says cheerily, and with that, she bounds off to check on another table.
“Hmm, not bad.” Rosie hums, bringing the glass to her lips for a second sip. “What do you think?”
“I don’t really like wine in general.”
She huffs in indignation. “Of course not.”
Annoyance flashes through me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She angles closer, elbows on the table, until she’s close enough that she’s able to whisper. “I know how you like your alcohol. Licked off the tits of whatever willing girl is throwing herself at you on any given night.”
I bristle, hands clenching into fists on top of the table.
“But I’m the slut. Have you ever wondered why guys like you, ones who fuck anything that walks, think that I’m the one with a problem? You and me, we’re the same.”
“We’re nothing alike.”
She rolls her eyes, leaning back. “So you’re telling me you don’t like sex and haven’t had a lot of it with lots of different women? You’re the one who got your professor pregnant.”
I grind my teeth but say nothing. I’m not interested in escalating this discussion into a full-blown argument.
“Yeah,” she laughs humorlessly. Then she takes a gulp of wine. “That’s what I thought.”
We eat our meal mostly in silence, save for the sounds of our forks hitting the dishes. I feel like an asshole, because she’s right. She’s called me out on this before, and I keep falling into the same trap.
Will I ever learn from my mistakes?
Probably not.