Chapter 22 #2
I gave them a soft smile, thinking about what Archer had said in the car about them parenting me differently because I was different.
The Darcy they’d known hadn’t wanted kids, and wasn’t in a relationship, so of course the news would be a bit curveball out of left field.
“I know you do, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. ”
My mom shared a look with my dad, then they both turned their gazes to me. “Why didn’t you?”
If I could’ve fast-forwarded this part of the conversation I would’ve because the last thing I wanted to do was make my parents feel like they weren’t great parents.
But I also knew that our relationship would continue to have this one-sided strain on it if I didn’t finally say something.
“Because I felt like you guys would be disappointed in me.”
“Why would we be disappointed in you?” my dad asked.
“You’re not exactly sixteen anymore, sweetheart,” my mom added with an apprehensive laugh.
“Because I didn’t plan for this? If that wasn’t entirely obvious.
Or because I’m not married? I don’t know.
I’ve always felt like the family screwup, and accidentally getting pregnant feels like a pretty big screw up.
” It felt so juvenile to be having this conversation as a twenty-eight-year-old woman, but maybe that was because it should’ve been had a long time ago.
For a brief time they simply stared at me, and then my mom’s eyes began to water, and I wished I could take it all back. I hated seeing my mom cry.
“You are not a screwup because you didn’t plan to get pregnant. You’re not a screwup period. Where is this coming from?” My mom looked as appalled as she sounded.
Some on-the-spot reflecting had me coming to a realization about myself. “I think I always put myself in competition with Garrett and Linnea, and always felt like I came up short or lacking.”
My dad leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he pointed a finger at me. “Let’s get something straight. You are Darcy. Linnea is Linnea, and Garrett is Garrett. That’s all there is to it.”
My mom rolled her watery eyes, an exasperated sigh leaving her lips. “What your father is saying, in fewer words, is that you three are equally exceptional in completely different ways. It’s not fair to compare yourself or your achievements to either of them.”
“Right. What she said.” My dad nodded, and I laughed at how easily he agreed with her.
My mom eyed him with a smile. “We wouldn’t want you to be anyone but the Darcy that you are. And as for everything with our grandbaby, it doesn’t make a lick of a difference to us if you’re married or not. Archer seems like a great guy, and you both are going to make wonderful parents.”
Part of me wanted to come clean about the fake-boyfriend situation right then and there, but it wasn’t my deal alone to share.
While I doubted my parents knew anybody in the Gettysburg Fire Department for word to get back to, those weren’t my chances to take.
I needed to talk to Archer before I came clean.
Then there was a tiny part of me that wasn’t so sure there was anything to fess up to anymore.
Not that I was so delusional as to believe that after one heated, very sober kiss in a truck, that Archer and I were suddenly dating.
But we’d both agreed on no kissing in public, so that definitely ruled out kissing in private, and yet it happened, so what did that mean?
Until I knew what was going on, there was nothing to admit to, and if I was imagining everything I thought was happening between Archer and I, I’d own up to it later.
Besides, I meant what I’d told Archer. He didn’t have to date me to be a father to this baby if that’s what he wanted. It was his baby too.
“I’m sorry I freaked out,” I confessed.
My dad waved a hand through the air. “Please. That’s nothing! When your mom was pregnant—” He took one glance at my mother and decided he’d better change the trajectory of that sentence. “She was the most level-headed, beautiful, and patient pregnant woman ever.”
My mom gave him a haughty look. “You’re damned right I was.”
***
When we rejoined the rest of the family, my gaze instantly locked onto Archer who was deep in conversation with .
. . Garrett. The sight immobilized me. Whatever conversation they were having—and knowing my brother I had my suspicions—it was tense, but it was also friendly?
Both men had their arms crossed over their chests, but their stances were otherwise relaxed.
Then they laughed at something, and I took that as my all clear.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, approaching Archer’s side. Letting my shoulder bump into his arm, I eyed him speculatively.
Garrett slapped Archer on the back. “You can answer that one. I suspect I’m in enough trouble with her.” Then he was striding across the kitchen to where Linnea was showing Cory something on her phone, talking in the animated way she did.
Alone, I cocked an eyebrow at Archer, waiting for the answer that my brother was too scared to deliver himself.
He rubbed the back of his head, a smirk playing at his lips which had me remembering the kiss we needed to talk about. “He was telling me some childhood stories about you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Which ones and why?”
“We were talking about how you can be a bit spiteful—”
“I am not!” I interjected.
He raised his eyebrows at me. “Oh no? You told me to show up to breakfast thirty minutes earlier than the time I’d suggested, only to show up later than said time just to get under my skin.
” Seconds passed while he waited for a rebuttal that never came.
“Anyway, he told me about a certain family camping trip.”
“Oh my god!” I yelled, then peered around Archer to yell at Garrett. “Really, Garrett?”
His deep laughter boomed from the other room. “I figured he’d want to know what he was getting himself into with you!”
“What an ass,” I muttered to myself.
“All the toilet paper, Darcy?” Archer’s smirk had grown into a full-blown grin.
Wiping a hand over my face, I sighed. “He’d used all of my conditioner! He didn’t even have long hair back then! He kept it buzzed! I didn’t think it’d get us kicked out of the campground.”
“You stole all of the toilet paper from the men’s room. What did you think was going to happen?”
I snickered because it was sort of funny now, but it definitely hadn’t been back then. My dad had been furious with me. “I thought he’d have to wipe his ass with leaves, and I’d hoped he’d be dumb enough to use poison ivy. I was going to put it all back!”
He leaned down, his lips ghosting the shell of my ear. “Brat.”
“I told you you need to stop calling me that.” I glared at him playfully.
“And I told you that I like what it does to your eyes.”
“What does it do to my eyes?” I challenged.
“The same thing kissing you does. You ignite.” His gaze dropped from mine, landing on my mouth.
“Speaking of, we never got to finish our conversation we started,” I hedged, realizing that standing in my parents’ dining room likely wasn’t the place to have this talk, but also not really caring.
“What do you want it to be?” Archer asked, picking up exactly where we’d left off when I asked him if he wanted the kiss to be a one-time thing or not. His eyes returned to mine, a more serious expression shaping his features.
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Why was it so hard to tell him what I wanted? I’d had no problem the night at the bar, but now I was clamming up?
“Want me to answer the question?”
I nodded, mutely.
His voice was low as he spoke. “I haven’t been able to think about anything else in the thirty minutes since that kiss, and it’s taking everything in me not to back you up against this table and kiss you senseless.
” His hand brushed against mine, the small contact sending chills through my body.
“So, no, I don’t want it to be a one-time thing.
But I don’t know what that means yet either. Is that okay?”
Nodding, I brushed my hand along the back of his before interlocking our pinkie fingers. It was an answer I could respect because it was exactly how I was feeling at the moment too. “Yes, that’s okay.”
Archer leaned closer to me. “So, when can I kiss you again?”
My response was on the tip of my tongue when Linnea bounced into the room. “We’re starting Monopoly in the living room in five.” She smiled, completely unaware of having interrupted something. “Better take the time to formulate your battle strategy, Archer. You’re going to need it.”
“Battle strategy?”
I sighed. “Yes. Battle strategy. And she’s not wrong. You’re going to need it.”
***
Christmas Day went exactly how it did every year.
Whoever woke up first made the coffee, and then we waited to open presents until the last person came downstairs.
Gathering around the tree, gifts would be opened one at a time so that we could all watch what the person got, and then we did breakfast, which was usually cinnamon buns and bacon.
When we were little, we’d run off to play with our toys after, but now that we were all adults, it was more laid back.
Everything about the day was the same, yet it felt different.
For one thing, it felt like I finally had something of value to bring into conversation, and now that my mom knew about the baby, it was all she could talk about.
What did I need for the nursery? When were we doing a baby shower?
Did I know how to change a diaper? The attention was a lot, but it was also kind of nice to have something my family could get excited for with me.
Then there was Archer. My family had been nothing but welcoming since they’d met him at Thanksgiving, but now they were laying it on thick.
It was as if giving them a grandbaby was the last piece my parents needed to really embrace him—to see him as something more than just some guy, and they weren’t the only ones.
Watching him with my family, having him here with me, had me forgetting that that part of our relationship wasn’t real, despite our mutual acknowledgement of our physical attraction to each other.
Yes, he was the father of my baby, but what was he to me?
I had said I didn’t want anything from him, but I wasn’t so sure that was true anymore, and that left us in a weird middle ground.
He’d made it clear he had nothing to offer me, but I didn’t believe that for a second, and I wished he didn’t either.
He was a better man than he gave himself credit for because, while he had his moments—moments I was able to see a whole lot clearer now that I knew his past—he wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d made him out to be.
A bad man wouldn’t force us to stop every two hours on our road trip because it’s recommended for pregnant people, though I think that’s a stupid “rule.” He also wouldn’t pick out a crap ton of healthy snacks, nor would he shop for baby things with me.
What came out of Archer’s mouth might’ve been harsh at times, but his actions spoke volumes, and I think what neither of us were quite ready to admit was that our kiss in the truck was more than mere physical attraction.
How much more, I wasn’t sure, but if our feelings were changing, and I was fairly certain mine already had, I needed to know why.
In a handful of months, I’d give birth to this baby and, yes I’d be a mom, but I’d also go back to being just Darcy again.
I’d no longer be the woman carrying his baby, and I needed to know if he wanted me for me. I needed to know if I was enough.