35. Daire
35
DAIRE
Time is moving at a speed I can’t comprehend. Graduation is around the corner, and hopefully custody of Sammy will be finalized soon. Nina keeps telling me these things take time, and I understand that, but fuck, I hate all the waiting.
The front door closes, and Rosie’s high-heeled shoes make a sharp clacking sound against the wood floors.
“My boys,” she chimes, bending to scoop up Sammy from the floor and smacking a kiss on his head.
“Where’s my kiss?”
She rolls her eyes, sticking her tongue out. “Don’t be jealous.”
“Me? Jealous?” I scoff. “Never.”
“You’re a bigger baby than Sammy.”
She leans in, gently cradling Sammy’s head, and presses her lips to mine, her kiss soft and tender. I cup her cheek, deepening it. I can’t get enough of her. For someone who was hellbent on this never being real, I don’t know what I’d do without the connection we have. I have a feeling when she walks down the aisle in September, I’m going to cry.
“How’d it go at the dress place?”
She had to go in for more measurements and to discuss any adjustments she wanted to make.
“Great.” Her eyes light up with excitement. Sammy’s balanced on her hip, smacking his hand against her collarbone for attention.
I pinch his cheek lightly. He’s so fucking cute.
I figured this new parent glow would’ve faded by now, but it’s just as strong as the day we brought him home, if not stronger. I’m not saying it’s easy. In fact, it’s probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But it’s also the most rewarding, and damn, do I love being a dad. I’ll do this ten times over if Rosie will let me. Well, maybe not ten, but four wouldn’t be so bad.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks, no doubt having noticed I zoned out.
Heat burns my cheeks, giving me away. “Nothing.”
She bounces Sammy, making him giggle. “Liar. You wouldn’t be blushing if you were thinking about something innocent.”
I tickle Sammy, and in response, he grasps my finger with a surprising amount of strength.
“I don’t think you want to know.”
“If it involves you and me naked, then I’m game.”
I laugh, ruffling my little guy’s hair when he lets go. “Shockingly, that wasn’t it.”
She cocks her head to the side, nose scrunched in curiosity. “What then?”
I blow out a breath, knowing she isn’t going to let this go. “More kids.”
It’s her turn to laugh. “I thought we talked about this.”
“I’m not saying it has to happen anytime soon. I know you’re not ready, and honestly, I’m not either. But this little guy makes me think about things I never did before. I like this life. I like being at home, just us, our little family. I love playing with him and taking care of him. I just love being a dad.”
Her face softens. The warmth of her hand on my cheek is like a soothing balm.
“There’s nothing wrong with loving a more domestic life. We were raised to feed into the hustle and bustle. We grew up thinking being raised by nannies was normal, but in reality, very few people live that way. Choosing a different path for yourself isn’t wrong.”
I can’t help but smile. She’s voicing things I’ve been avoiding thinking about.
“You’re not going to judge me if I want to be a stay-at-home-dad?”
Her laughter is warm and kind. “No, never. It’s the twenty-first century. It shouldn’t be frowned upon if you’re a stay-at-home-dad and I’m the money-maker.”
Heart hammering against my sternum, I pull her in for a kiss.
Neither of us takes for granted the privilege we’ve been born into—the extensive trust funds that allow us the freedoms to essentially do what we want.
“I love you.”
She smiles, setting Sammy on the floor. Immediately, he crawls away. This is a new development that already has me dreading when he learns to walk.
“I know. I’m pretty easy to love.”
I grab her hip, pulling her into me. “That mouth of yours.”
Her eyes sparkle with challenge, a silent dare. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Oh. Don’t worry.” I look her up and down. “I’ll take care of you later.”
A few days later, I pull into the driveway beside an unfamiliar car. Immediately, my heart begins to race, and I break out in a cold sweat.
Someone’s here to take Sammy.
I’m half tempted to put the car reverse and flee, but the instant the driver steps out of the vehicle, my fears over Sammy halt in their tracks, and brand new fears rear their ugly heads.
Oh, shit.
Rosie’s father closes his car door and eyes me as I idle at the end of the driveway.
Has he finally come to kill me?
Since he’s already seen me, I’ve lost my opportunity to flee.
I pull all the way into the driveway and park beside the silver car.
Sammy babbles in the back seat, the sound easing my trepidation a fraction. He says a few words here and there, but we’re unfortunately still working on Dada. I swear the kid refuses to say it just to spite me.
The instant I step out of the car, her dad is right fucking there.
Papa Mode Activated.
Hand on his chest, I give him a light shove. “Move back. I have to get my baby out of the car.”
Silently, he concedes, taking a step back and shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks.
With a wary look at him, I turn and slide the back door open, then unlatch Sammy’s car seat so I can carry him inside. I don’t say a word to Chandler as I pass.
This unexpected appearance has me fuming.
How dare he say the things he did to Rosie, then just show up here out of the blue?
He follows me to the door, not saying a word.
I unlock it, but instead of pushing it open, I swing back around to face him, nearly taking him out at the knees with the car seat carrier.
“I didn’t invite you in, Chandler.”
He arches a brow. “Are you seriously not going to let me in?”
I stare him down, puffing out my chest. Maybe the move is an overreaction, but I can’t help but feel protective of Rosie and Sammy. “I’m thinking about it. You hurt my wife. I don’t take that lightly.”
The muscle in his jaw ticks. “That’s why I’m here. To apologize.”
I snort. “Took your sweet time, didn’t you?”
He blows out a breath, looking up at the sky like he’s hoping he can gather strength from the heavens. “Yeah, I did. Are you going to let me in or not?”
“Might as well. You are my father-in-law.”
He flinches at that, which only serves to make me grin with amusement.
“Is Rosie home?”
Hand on the knob, I turn my head dramatically. “Well, her car isn’t here, so it’s safe to say she’s not.”
Rather than admonishing me for my sarcasm—he is my elder, after all, and in our parents’ social circles; that kind of behavior is highly frowned upon—Chandler silently follows me inside where I set the carrier down on the floor and unstrap Sammy.
There’s a disgusted curl to Chandler’s lip, which only makes my hackles rise.
Sammy might’ve been an unexpected surprise, but that doesn’t make him any less loved or special to me or to Rosie.
I get my little guy settled in his highchair, then head for the fridge. He smacks his palms against the plastic tray, chanting blana, which I’ve deduced means banana, one of his favorite foods.
“Feel free to sit and wait for her,” I offer with a wave at the couch.
The last thing I want is for Chandler to make himself at home in our house, in our safe space, but even though Rosie is hurt, I don’t think she’d take too kindly to me kicking her dad out on the street.
That means I get to sit and awkwardly wait with him for who knows how long. Rosie and Bertie were headed to the wedding store after class to work on the design for the bridesmaid dresses.
I gather up the little glass jars of food and a spoon, then I pull out a chair and sit in front of Sammy. Almost immediately, I jump up, muttering “bib” to myself. Somehow, I always forget the damn thing.
Chandler watches my every move, wearing a shrewd expression. It causes tension to build in my shoulders, and I have to bite down on my tongue to keep from getting defensive.
“Do you need something?” I ask, giving Sammy his first bite of the mashed bananas.
Chandler shakes his head, pulling out a stool at the island. He’s still too close for comfort, but it’s better than him hovering.
Ignoring his presence, I continue feeding Sammy, talking to him about our day like I always do. When he’s finished, I set him on the floor with his toys. He’s due for a nap soon, but I like to give him a little time to crawl around when we get home.
“He looks like you.”
I turn at the sound of Chandler’s voice. “That’s what Rosie says.”
He looks away at the comment. “Do you really care for her? You’re not just using her?”
I wouldn’t dare tell him about the origins of our romance. If I have my way, we’ll take that truth to our graves.
“I love Rosie more than you can imagine.”
He dips his head in acknowledgment.
I always liked Chandler, but I’m afraid that even if Rosie forgives him for his bullish behavior, I never will. Anyone who hurts Rosie hurts me tenfold. Her pain is my pain, and it’s one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced.
I sit on the floor with Sammy, stacking colored blocks that he knocks over, until his eyes are heavy.
“I’m going to get this one down for a nap. You can stay here.”
In other words, Don’t even fucking think of trying to snoop around my house.
He nods. “Have you heard from Rosie?”
With a shake of my head, I stride to the kitchen so I can make a bottle to take up with me. “No, she’s busy, and I’m secure enough to let her do her thing without expecting her to check in with me every five minutes.”
His lips flatten. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”
Hands on the counter, I stare him down. “I used to like you. I even respected you. But you made my wife cry. You hurt her when she didn’t deserve it. So, no, I don’t like you, and I’m not sure I ever will again.”
Picking up Sammy, I leave him behind to chew on that.
Sammy struggles to stay awake while I change his diaper and put him in clean pajamas for his nap. Once I’ve laid him in the crib, I rub his tummy until his eyes close and stay that way.
With a flick of the knob on the sound machine, I ease out of the room and shut the door.
Escaping into my room, I send a text to Rosie to warn her that her dad is here. Maybe it’s shitty of me to rat him out, but it would be even crappier to not give her a heads-up before she gets home.
My phone rings an instant later, and a picture of Rosie with Sammy illuminates the screen.
“Hello?” I answer, pacing the bedroom.
“My dad is there?”
“Yep. He’s downstairs. I just put Sammy down for a nap.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “I can’t believe he just showed up.”
My stomach churns with nerves. “If you don’t want to see him, I can send him away.”
She gets quiet again and stays that way for so long I pull my phone away from my ear to make sure the call hasn’t been disconnected. “No, I… I’ll hear him out when I get there. We’re almost done.”
“Take your time.”
I might not want to be stuck here with her dad, but I won’t beg her to come home early. With her mother taking over the wedding details—which, shockingly, Rosie doesn’t mind, at least for the most part—I want her to enjoy the few things she does have control over.
“I’ll let you know when we leave here.”
“All right. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
As I end the call and slip my phone into my pocket, I inhale a steadying breath. I have no choice but to go downstairs and entertain her dad now.
This ought to be fun.
It’s the most awkward hour and a half of my life.
When Rosie pulls into the driveway, I’m up and moving before Chandler can blink.
She strolls up the walkway, as beautiful as ever, with her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. Arching a brow when she sees me, she says, “Why are you standing at the door like a dog ready to greet its owner? Are you that desperate to get away from my dad?”
“It’s awkward,” I defend, locking the door behind her.
“Where is he?” She looks around like he might jump out from behind me and scare her.
“Family room.”
She inhales a deep breath, then lets it out shakily. Her eyes dart in the direction of the family room, and she wrings her hands together in front of her.
I grasp her upper arms gently, hoping my touch soothes her at least a little. “If you want me to ask him to leave, I will.”
She shakes her head. “No. Thank you. I know I need to talk to him.”
“Do you want me to be with you or give you space?”
Before she can answer, Sammy cries, and we both turn toward the stairs.
“I want you by my side,” she says, stepping in closer. “Let’s get Sammy. My dad can wait.”
Chances are he can hear our entire conversation, but I don’t care.
Upstairs, we find Sammy attempting to stand up in the crib. We’re both frozen just inside the doorway, staring at him. I can’t speak for Rosie, but the sight fills me with not only awe but apprehension. While we’re frozen in place, he straightens his legs so he’s fully upright, clinging to the crib railing, and grins around his pacifier. The little guy is clearly pleased with himself.
I turn to Rosie with a laugh. “He can stand up in the crib, but he can’t say Dada? I’m offended.”
She pushes my shoulder, lightly shoving me aside. “He just doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction because he’s going to say Rosie first. Isn’t that right?” she asks him, scooping him up. She plants a kiss on each cheek, earning a giggle from him.
There’s no doubt in my mind that she loves Sammy as much as I do.
She lays him down on the changing table, peels his pajamas off, and changes his diaper, all the while cooing and talking to him. I stand off to the side, soaking in their interaction.
I don’t know how I got so lucky.
“Did you miss me?” she asks him in a high-pitched voice.
He kicks his legs in an excited response.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She blows a raspberry on his stomach.
His answering giggles make my heart hurt in the best kind of way.
“What do you want to wear?” she asks. “What about this little overall set? It’s cute.” She holds it up for his inspection.
He claps his hands, his arms flailing.
“I’ll take that as a yes too.”
She changes him easily, not having to wrestle him into the clothes like I normally have to. It’s safe to say that Sammy has already chosen Rosie as his favorite person. I can’t even be mad about it. She’s my favorite person too.
When he’s all clean and changed, she holds him against her chest and faces me.
“I guess I can’t stall any longer.”
“No,” I agree, a lump lodged in my throat. “We can’t leave him waiting forever.”
She straightens her spine and nods, preparing herself to face what’s to come. Fuck, he better be here to apologize and make amends. He should have done it months ago. Hell, the whole thing should’ve never happened in the first place. I couldn’t ever imagine myself saying the things he did to my own daughter.
I follow her down the stairs, and then we face Chandler together, as a family.
He stands the moment he sees Rosie and rubs his hand awkwardly over his shirt. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this man nervous, but it’s clear that he is right now.
He clears his throat. “It’s good to see you, Rosie.”
She looks him up and down. “Hi, Dad. You could have called. You didn’t need to waste your time coming all the way here.”
It’s not what I was expecting her to say. And from the way Chandler flinches, he wasn’t expecting it either. Her tone matches the words—chilly, distant. The meaning behind that comment, that a call would have sufficed, shows how deeply he hurt her.
By the anguish in his eyes, it looks like, in this moment, he realizes that he’s going to have to put a lot more work into repairing this relationship than he thought.
Rosie hasn’t talked to me much about her feelings when it comes to her dad, and I haven’t pushed her. Maybe I should have.
“I know,” he nods, swallowing thickly. “I felt like it was better to talk in person.”
She presses her lips together, looking away, clearly struggling to keep it together. Fuck, it kills me that she feels this way.
I put a hand on her waist, offering her as much comfort as I can.
“Better for you or me?”
Chandler flinches again. “For both of us, I hope.”
Rosie sets Sammy down, his little legs working quickly as he crawls over to the corner where we keep his toys.
“A little warning would’ve been nice.”
He hangs his head and lets out a defeated sigh. “I know, but I didn’t want to wait.”
“Dad.” The pain in that single word feels like a stab to the gut. “You’ve had months.” I think that’s what bothers her the most about him being here. He’s had a long time to get his head out of his ass. Why is now different? “Did Mom make you do this?”
He shakes his head, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “No. I mean, she’s told me I’m being ridiculous, but no, she’s not why I’m here.”
Rosie’s hands shake at her sides. I reach for one and squeeze, silently willing her to take strength from me.
“Let’s… uh… sit down and talk,” I say. I hate seeing her like this, the pain she’s trying to hold back to keep him from having the power to hurt her any more.
From the toy corner, Sammy tosses his soft blocks, babbling away. He gives us a toothy grin, happy and completely oblivious to the tension swirling the air between the three of us.
Chandler sits on the ottoman directly in front of Rosie. By the way her grip on my hand tightens, it’s clear she doesn’t care for this proximity. Even so, she doesn’t tell him to move.
“Rosie, the way I reacted…” He lowers his head in shame. “It was reprehensible. I was hurt. You’re my little girl, and this wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go. But my pain didn’t give me the right to hurt you in turn.”
His speech sounds rehearsed to me, but I’m not going to call him out on it.
“We’ve always been close,” he goes on when it becomes obvious Rosie isn’t going to respond, “and it’s been awful not talking to you.”
Not awful enough to apologize until now.
Again, Rosie says nothing. Chandler tugs at his collar, the corners of his mouth turned down in unease.
Sammy crawls over, using my leg to get into a standing position.
“Rosie, I?—”
“Dada.”
My heart stops, and I dart a look at Rosie. “Did he say?—”
Her smile is so bright it hurts to look at. “He did.”
Ignoring the man in front of us, I scoop my son into my arms. “Say it again,” I beg.
I’m aware that begging a baby to say a word again is futile, but I can’t help it.
Sammy smacks his open hand against my cheek. “Da.” Another smack. “Da.”
Fuck. I’m going to cry.
“Dada,” he says again.
My heart lurches, and my chest aches in the most perfect way. “That’s right. I’m Dada. And who’s this?” I point at Rosie. We’ve been working on getting him to say Ro-Ro.
Sammy claps and lunges for her. “Mama.”
I freeze, and at the same time, the color drains from Rosie’s face. Her eyes are comically large when she asks, “Did he call me Mama?”
I let out an uneasy breath, not sure how she’s going to feel about it. “He did.”
“Mama,” he says again, opening and closing his hands. His bottom lip begins to tremble when she doesn’t take him.
Shit, Maybe she’s upset. We’ve been careful not to refer to her as that—not wanting to be disrespectful to Danielle’s memory—but so many of the books we read to him reference mother figures. Apparently he’s picked up on it and decided she’s supposed to be Mama.
Tears pool in Rosie’s eyes, and she finally snaps into action. With shaky hands, she takes him from me and holds him close, kissing his cheeks. “Sweet boy,” she says.
Rubbing the back of her neck, I ask, “Are you okay? Is it okay?”
She nods, the motion causing a few tears to slip down her cheeks. “It’s okay. I don’t… we’ll always make sure he knows about his mom, but I’m okay with whatever he wants to call me now and whatever he decides to call me in the future.”
I lean in, kissing her. God damn, how did I get so fucking lucky?
Chandler watches the entire exchange, not saying a word. In fact I kind of forgot he was there until he clears his throat.
“You two… you’re really in love.”
I chuckle and press a kiss to the side of Rosie’s head. “I tried to tell you, sir. It’s why we couldn’t wait to get married.”
A laugh bursts out of Rosie, because that’s not the reason, but what her dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
Chandler rubs his hands against his pants. “I just wanted to come here in person and apologize. I know it doesn’t erase how I behaved, but I felt like it was better to come here and see you than to call. So…” He stands slowly, like his joints hurt. “I’ll head out and leave you to it.”
He’s halfway across the room when Rosie says, “Dad, don’t go. At least stay for dinner.”
My sweet Rosie. She’s too kind even when people don’t deserve it. I should’ve known how good her heart was when she agreed to marry me. This woman is one-of-a-kind, and she’s all mine.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, and if you want to stay, we have a spare room.”
The last thing I want is Chandler staying here after how he’s treated her, but if she’s okay with it, then I’ll keep my opinion to myself.
He shakes his head. “Dinner would be nice, but the flight crew is on standby, so I have to head home tonight.”
“All right, dinner it is.” She shoots me a look that asks if I’m okay with this.
With a dip of my chin, I give her an encouraging smile and stand. “I’ll order dinner.”
Phone in hand, I position myself in the kitchen, giving them some privacy while keeping an eye on the interaction.
I order a spread of food from a local restaurant that offers delivery. No chance in hell am I leaving him alone in the house with Rosie while I pick up dinner. Then I busy myself wiping down the counters. I rinse the washcloth, and when I turn the water off, the house is strangely quiet. I spin, ready to step in if necessary, but Rosie is already off the couch and coming into the kitchen with Sammy still in her arms. I know I’m biased, but I’m pretty sure he’s the snuggliest baby to ever exist.
“This is awkward,” she mouths.
“It’s not like he’ll be here much longer,” I whisper back.
She exhales heavily, looking back toward her father. The look in her eyes breaks my heart—the longing for everything to be okay, but the fear that it never will be. I might be angry at Chandler for hurting her, but at the end of the day, I want whatever Rosie does. If she wants to repair this rift, then I’ll support her 100 percent.
Her bottom lip wobbles. “How did things get so messed up?”
Fuck, I don’t want to see her cry. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, I pull her into me. My lips find her forehead, offering her silent comfort.
This situation with her dad can’t be rectified tonight, or tomorrow, or even next week.
Regardless of how badly they want to heal their relationship, it’s going to take time.