Proving Paul's Promise (18 page)

“No.”

“You’re not going to keep asking me again and again?”

“No.”

“You’re going to stop being stupid?”

I grin. “I don’t know about that one.”

“You have testicles,” she says, and she shrugs. “I can’t have it all, can I?” She sinks down onto her knees in front of me. She bites her lower lip and stares at me.

“Say it,” I coax.

She goes back to glaring at me. “Say what?”

“Whatever you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that my knees are uncomfortable on this fucking floor, and I’m wondering how long you’re going to fucking make me stay down here.”

I laugh. God, she’s so contrary!

She takes my face in her hands. “Tonight, can I make you dinner?” she asks.

My heart does that pitter-patter thing again. “Like a date?”

She rocks her head back and forth like she’s weighing her words. “I guess you could call it a date.”

“Then yes, I’d love that.” Then I remember. “But I have Hayley tonight.”

She brightens. “Good.” She kisses me quickly and grins. “Because that’s about as close to a threesome as you’ll ever get with me.” She points to the floor. “Can I get up now?” she asks.

“Get the fuck up,” I growl. I get to my feet, too. She falls against me and wraps her arms around my waist.

“So does this mean that you don’t want to marry me?” she asks, her voice muffled against my chest. Her words touch the tattoo I just got, and it stings a little. But I don’t pull back. I don’t want her to see it yet.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say the opposite.”

I set her back a little and look down into her upturned face. “Are you telling me you do want to marry me?”

She shakes her head and jabs a finger at me. “But I want to leave the door open.”

Oh, holy hell. She’s opening a fucking door and I didn’t even have to threaten her or withhold anything or torment her in any way. I might pass out.

“Okay,” I say.

“And Paul,” she says. “Don’t ever do that on-your-knees thing again unless you’re down there licking my pussy because it weirds me the fuck out.”

A grin tugs at my lips, even though I want to look fierce. Finally, I have to toss my head back and laugh.

She squeezes me one last time and walks back into the work area. I see Logan reach up and high-five her.

“What was that for?” she asks.

Logan grins. “I got cuddled last night.”

“Because I rock,” she says, and she high-fives him again. He grins at me at the back of the shop and shakes his head.

He jerks his thumb toward her and signs to me,
She’s a good one
.

I saw that!
Friday signs dramatically at him.

I meant for you to!
he signs back with just as much force.

Friday

I like bustling around Paul’s kitchen. And I like it even more when he walks up behind me and wraps his arms around me while I’m standing at the stove. He pretends like he’s going to try to steal a piece of chicken from the pasta, but he presses his lips to my shoulder and lingers, his hot breath blowing across my neck. I reach up and wrap my hand around his neck and bring him down so I can kiss him. Then he pops the chicken into his mouth and grins.

“That’s pretty good,” he says, nodding.

I roll my eyes. “Glad you like my chicken.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about the chicken,” he says, letting his eyes roam up and down my body. My nipples go hard, and my heartbeat thrums.

The door opens, and he doesn’t spring away from me. He stands beside me like he belongs there. Hayley comes running in the door wearing a pink tutu and ballet slippers with some awesome pink tights. She launches herself into Paul’s arms, and he dances around the kitchen with her. I love watching him like this.

Kelly comes in last, and she looks a little harried as she blows hair out of her eyes. “I’m in a big hurry,” she says, throwing Hayley’s bag down. Her gaze meets mine, and she smiles. “Oh, hi, Friday,” she says. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Paul talks around another piece of chicken that he stole. “She lives here,” he says. “Like my girlfriend.” He winks at me. “All the time.”

My face goes hot. A cloud passes over Kelly’s face, and she turns and smiles at me again. I can tell she doesn’t want to, but she does try. “So happy for you,” she says. She motions Hayley forward, and she gives her a quick hug. Suddenly, she stands up and puts her hand on Hayley’s head, petting her like she’s a dog. “Someone got in trouble at ballet for dropping the f-bomb,” she says.

Paul’s face falls. He looks over the counter and into his daughter’s face. “You dropped an f-bomb?”

Hayley looks up into Kelly’s face, her brows furrowed. “I didn’t drop a bomb. I just called the teacher a fu—”

Kelly slaps a hand over her mouth. “You don’t need to repeat it. We get the idea.” She looks at Paul. “Talk to her?”

“We’ll talk about it,” he assures her.

“Oh, and she has a recital next week!” She rushes out the door.

“I’ll be there,” Paul says to her back. The door closes, and Paul sits down on his haunches in front of Hayley. “What did we say about that word?”

She hangs her head and goes into her room. She comes back with a quarter and holds it up. Paul takes it and puts it in a jar on top of the fridge. I give him a crazy look.

“The swear jar,” he whispers. “Every time she says a bad word, she has to put in a quarter. And if she catches me saying a bad word, I have to put in a quarter.” I see a ten-dollar bill in there. He laughs. “Sam paid in advance.”

“I’m going to go broke,” I say. I do watch my mouth around Hayley, although that’s really the only time I even think about what a potty mouth I have.

“Probably.” He laughs and sets the table. Hayley climbs in a chair, and he fixes a plate for her. We all sit down and have a really nice meal, and Hayley chatters with him about her week. I watch the two of them together, and my heart twitches and my insides do that melty thing they do when I’m moved by the awesomeness that is Paul and Hayley

“You okay?” he asks after we clear the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. Hayley runs to play in her room for a few minutes, and we move to the couch. He sinks down beside me and drapes his arm around my shoulders. It’s nice, so I lean into him.

“I’m great.” We sit silently for a little while, and then I have a thought. “Can I show you something?” I wince to myself because I am not sure what he’ll do with this situation.

“You can show me anything you want after Hayley’s in bed,” he says quietly. My tummy drops toward my toes. He kisses the tip of my nose.

“No, it’s not that,” I say. Although I plan on showing him some of that later, too. Now that he’s not going to hold his love hostage, I’m ready to take him inside me. And I think he’s ready to be taken. “It’s something else. Are you up for it?”

He nods, looking at me curiously.

I go to my room and reach onto my shelf, taking down a small shoebox. My hands tremble as I lower it. I’m afraid. I’m terribly afraid. But I take it down, tuck it under my arm, take a deep breath, and go back out to the living room. I sit down next to him, and he eyes the box with a worried expression.

“What’s this?” he asks, sitting forward.

I remove the top off the box and take out a pile of pictures. I hand him one. “This is Jacob,” I say. My eyes fill with tears, and I don’t even try to blink them back. I let them fall over my lashes and onto my cheeks. Paul brushes them away, but I really don’t want him to. I want to feel all of this because I have forced myself not to feel it for so very long.

“This is when he was born.” I point to the squirmy little ball of red skin and dark hair. Paul looks from me to it.

“He looks like you,” he says.

I shake my head. “He looks more like his dad, I think.” These fucking tears keep falling. I’m not crying. It’s like someone opened an emotional dam in me and I can’t get it to close. I don’t want it to.

“What happened to his dad?” Paul asks.

“He died,” I say. I have to stop and clear my throat. “Drug overdose a few years after Jacob was born. I read about it in the paper.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I sniff. “I am, too.” I feel like I need to explain, and for the first time ever, I want to. “We were young, and we played around with marijuana and stuff. But I cut it all out when I found out I was pregnant with Jacob. He didn’t. He wasn’t able. It was really sad when I couldn’t be with him anymore. I didn’t have anyone else. But I didn’t really have him, either. The drugs had him, you know?”

He nods. I hand him more pictures, and he flips through them. I have looked at them so much that they’re dog-eared in places. He holds one up from when Jacob was about three. “You can’t tell me he doesn’t look like you. Look at those eyes! He’s so handsome.”

My eyes fill with tears again, but I smile through them. He
is
perfect. And I should be able to hear someone say so.

“Look at that smirk!” Paul cries when he sees the most recent one. “That is so you!”

I grin. I guess he’s right.

“Where is your family, Friday?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I tell him. I lay my head on his shoulder and watch as he takes in the photos over and over, poring through the stack so he can point out ways that Jacob looks like me. “They kicked me out when I got pregnant. Terminated their rights.”

Paul presses his lips to my forehead and doesn’t say anything.

“I thought I knew everything back then.” I laugh and wipe my eyes with the hem of my dress. “Turns out I didn’t know shit.”

“Do you ever think about looking for them?”

I shake my head. “No. Never.” I point to special pictures of my son. “His mom—her name is Jill—she sometimes sends me special milestone pictures. This is his first tooth he got and the first tooth he lost. And this one is from his first step. That wasn’t even part of the agreement. She just does it because she wants me to know how he’s doing.” I try to grin through the tears. “He’s doing so great. He’s smart. And they can send him to college and to special schools. He takes piano, and he plays sports. And Jill says he likes to paint.” My voice cracks, and I don’t hate that it does. I just let it.

“Of course, he does. You’re his mother.”

“I just wanted to do what was best for him, you know?” This time, I use Paul’s sleeve to wipe my eyes. I blink hard trying to clear my vision.

“That’s what parents do. We do what’s in the best interest of our children.” He kisses me softly. “Thank you for showing me these.”

“Thank you for looking at them.” I reach into the box and pull out the letters. “She writes me these long letters. Do you want to read them?”

He looks surprised. “Do you want me to read them?”

I nod. “If you want to.” My heart aching so fucking much right now, and I feel like I’m hanging out there on a tightrope, just waiting for a stiff wind to send me careening into a ravine full of vipers and alligators.

“I want to.”

He grabs my tightrope and steadies it, like I need him to do, with just a few simple words.
I want to
. “I’m going to go play with Hayley,” I say.

I get up and go to Hayley’s room, and as I turn the corner, I can hear the first envelope crinkle. I have read them a million times. I know every word by heart.

I don’t know why I wanted to share them with him, except for the fact that he loves me. And since he loves me, I want to let him inside. He promised not to tear down my walls, but he wants to come inside with me. And since he does, I’m going to let him.

His voice calls me back. “Friday!” he yells. He looks at one of the envelopes.

“What?” I ask, turning back to face him.

“Your real name is-”

“Don’t say it!” I cry. “I never want to hear that name again.” That person no longer exists.

He grins at me. “I’m just honored that I get to know the person you were.” His face softens. “And the person you are.”

I shake my head and flip him off. I can hear his laughter all the way down the hall.

“Hey, Hayley,” I say as I sit down and pick up one of her action figures. She has Barbies, too, but she would rather play with her Legos and building blocks. Maybe she’ll be an engineer one day. Or maybe she’ll be an amazing tattoo artist like her dad. I make her action figure kiss her Barbie, and she giggles. “I think they’re in love,” I whisper.

“Like you and my daddy,” she says back quietly.

I nod. And emotion clogs my throat again. I turn my head and cough, and then I dump a box of Legos on the floor. “I think Barbie needs a fortress,” I say.

She nods, and we start to build a plastic fortress together, because sometimes a girl just needs a fucking fortress.

Paul

I’m surprised to find that two hours have passed when I finally close the lid of Friday’s box of secrets and push it to the side. I rock my head back and forth and crack my neck, stretching because I have been sitting in one place for way too long. But once I started reading, I just couldn’t stop.

Jacob’s adoptive mother, Jill, had poured her heart out on the pages in more than one letter. There was no doubt about it: she wanted Friday to be a part of her son’s life. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have reached out to her with the heartfelt emotion that she did.

Jill had been married for ten years when she and her husband adopted Jacob. He was their first and only child. For years, Jill frantically reached out to Friday, begging her to come visit with Jacob. She wants Friday to meet him. She made no mistake at all in the words. Jill is his mother and she always will be, but she firmly believes that Friday can have a place in his life, too. I happen to agree with her.

I get up and go to check on Friday and Hayley, but I stumble to a stop when I turn the corner into Hayley’s room. They’re both asleep on the bed on their stomachs with an open book in front of them. Friday has changed into her pajamas and it looks as though she was reading to Hayley when they both fell asleep. But what kills me is that their noses are turned toward one another, so close they’re sharing breaths, and my daughter’s hand is tucked into Friday’s.