Chapter 28 #2
“Sounds like a plan.” I attempted to smile, but I felt like shit.
I didn’t deserve his kindness after what I’d done to Frannie.
I didn’t deserve to have him refer to me as family or offer to go fishing with me or think of me as a surrogate son.
Had that been his way of telling me he was okay with a relationship between me and his daughter?
Dammit, I didn’t deserve that either! I almost wished he’d come at me red-faced and angry, railing about how I couldn’t treat her like that and get away with it. I wished he’d thrown a punch.
I arrived home on edge, and Frannie barely looked at me before hugging the kids goodbye and disappearing into the back hall to put on her boots and coat. Again, I followed her.
“Did you say anything to them about not coming back?” I asked.
“No.” She pulled on her boots. “You told me not to.”
“I know. I’ll do it tonight. I spoke with an agency today. They said it wouldn’t be a problem to find a replacement sitter by next week.”
“Good.” She zipped up her coat and put her hat on. She wore braids in her hair again today, and for some reason the sight of them made me even sadder. I’d never smell her hair again. Or brush it. Or see it spilling across my pillow, dangling above my chest, cascading down her naked back.
I stuck my hands in my pockets, my heart aching. “I guess I’ll see you around then.”
She barely looked at me before walking out, closing the door behind her. For a few frantic seconds, I tried to think of some reason—any reason—to run after her, keep her here a little longer. But I couldn’t.
Instead I went to the living room, moved the curtain aside, and peeked out the front window, watching as she got into her car.
She started the engine, but didn’t go anywhere right away.
I thought maybe she was on the phone or texting someone, but then she dropped her face into her hands and I realized she was crying.
My chest felt like it was being split in two.
“Daddy, what are you doing?” asked Felicity, coming up behind me.
“Nothing,” I said, letting the curtain fall into place again.
“Yes, you are, you’re looking at Frannie,” she said, jumping onto the couch and pushing the curtain aside again. Then she gasped. “Oh, she’s crying!”
“She’s crying?” Immediately the other two girls jumped onto the couch and craned their necks for a better view.
I yanked the curtain in front of them. “I don’t know.”
“She is, I can tell,” Millie said. “We should go get her. What if she needs help?”
“No!” I yelled. “Leave her alone!”
All three girls looked at me in surprise.
I ran a hand through my hair and lowered my voice. “Sometimes grownups get sad about things. Frannie is fine.”
“How do you know?” Millie persisted. “She didn’t say anything to us about being sad.”
“Because I know,” I snapped. I thought about her gentle, trusting father and his kind words to me this afternoon and felt even worse.
“Did you make her sad?” Winnie asked, her tone accusatory. “Did you yell at her? You make me sad when you yell at me.”
“Me too,” added Felicity. “And you’ve been yelling a lot this week.”
“Why did you yell at Frannie?” Millie crossed her arms over her chest. “We love Frannie. You should apologize. You probably scared her!”
“For fuck’s sake, Millie, I didn’t yell at Frannie!”
“Now you’re yelling at me.”
“No, I’m not!” I yelled.
Winnie started to cry and ran up the stairs. Felicity and Millie exchanged a look that said OMG Dad Is Losing It.
“Look,” I said, trying to stay calm. “Sometimes dads yell. It doesn’t mean they don’t love their kids. It just means they’re having a bad day.”
“Frannie says a hug makes a bad day better,” said Felicity, pushing her glasses up her nose. “But I’m sorry, I don’t really feel like hugging you right now.”
“Me neither.” Millie shook her head.
Sighing, I flopped onto the other end of the couch and lay my head back. Closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, girls. It’s been a tough week.”
They didn’t say anything for a few minutes. I thought they might have even gone upstairs, but when I opened my eyes, they were still there looking at me. Then I had an idea.
“Frannie is sad because she can’t be your babysitter anymore,” I said.
They looked at each other and then back at me, their expressions a mixture of shock and panic. “What?” Felicity cried. “Why?”
“Because she’s got a new job at a coffee shop and it’s going to be longer hours.”
“She doesn’t work with you at Cloverleigh anymore?” Millie asked.
I shook my head. “No.”
“But we’ll never see her again,” Felicity said, tears filling her eyes.
“She promised to come to my fashion show,” protested Millie, her voice cracking. “It’s tomorrow. Is she still coming?”
I exhaled, tipping my head back again. I’d forgotten about that damn show. “I don’t know. Probably not.”
Both of them started to cry, which made my temper flare again. I’d lost her too, but you didn’t see me crying—although I felt like it. “Stop it, you two,” I snapped. “There’s nothing to cry about. She’s just too busy to come here anymore.”
That made them sob harder, and Felicity wiped her nose on her sleeve. “It’s not fair,” she wept.
“If you’re going to cry like that, go up to your rooms,” I ordered like the ogre I was. “I don’t want to hear it.”
They jumped off the couch and ran upstairs, and I heard two doors slam a moment later. From above came the sounds of wailing and despair.
“Great,” I muttered. “Fucking Father of the Year.”
I sat there for a moment and listened to my children sob, wishing I could cry it out myself. This week had been nothing but misery and stress. A little release would feel pretty damn good right now.
But I couldn’t. I owed my children an apology, an ice cream cone, and a hug—if they’d let me give them one.
After sitting there for a while, stewing in my own self-imposed agony, I got to my feet and headed slowly up the stairs, my head pounding, my nerves shot, and my heart in a million little pieces.