That One Day (That One #1.5) (15 page)

“Good,” I tell her. Feeling quite smug, with both her answer and my idea.

“Why is that good, Ben? What is it to you?” The fact that she asks tells me she wants exactly what I want, even if she isn’t admitting it to herself just yet. I give her the reply I know she wants to hear. But more than that, it’s the truth.

“I know I hurt you, Frankie. I fucked up and I can’t change that. I know you don’t trust me and that’s okay. Because I’ll fight for you, and I will win back your trust. I will win you back.”

“You never had me to begin with.”

A few minutes ago, this would have bothered me. I realize now she’s scared and hurt and is just trying to protect herself. But she’s been mine for years. That hasn’t changed.

Once inside the house with her parents, she heads up the stairs, clearly trying to escape my presence. Her mom has already taken Archer and is cooing like a demented dove. Her dad is sitting in the armchair, reading a magazine. I sit down on the couch and decide it’s as good a time as any to put my plan into action.

She’ll be furious. Hell, I’ll have to guard my dick for the upcoming days so she doesn’t cut it off. But the fact is though I’ve known Archer is my son now for less than twenty-four hours, the thought of not being around him feels like someone’s ripping out my heart. I can’t even imagine what my father went through when he lost me. I’m not taking that risk. And I’m definitely not going to risk losing any chance I might have with Frankie. Once she’s out of my reach, she’ll be scared and pissed off. I can’t let that happen. I need to dismantle the wall around her heart. What I do next breaks the agreement we just made and yet nothing could stop me.

“Listen, I just had an idea. I haven’t talked to Frankie about this yet—thought I’d ask you for advice and get your blessing first.” Yes, I’m kissing ass, but I’ve known them long enough to know how to manipulate them. They both look at me, giving me their full attention. Her mother even stops cooing.

“I need to start looking at colleges and potential jobs again. I’ve wasted enough time in the past months. I’ve heard only good things about Frankie’s college, and thought I would check it out. It just occurred to me I could drive up with her. That way she doesn’t have to drive alone. It’s such a long trip for her—it’s dangerous. If I go with her, we can alternate driving and she can pay more attention to Archer, as well.”

I don’t even need to wait for an answer because her mother beams at me, clapping her hands with Archer tucked in between her arms, and her father nods approvingly.

Her mom exclaims loud enough for the whole house to hear, “That is a great idea, Ben. Frankie, did you hear that?”

It doesn’t take long before Frankie appears with Dave by her side. Her features are marred by apprehension, her jaw tight, while Dave grins in amusement.

“Frankie, Ben just offered to drive back with you to Northampton to look at colleges and job opportunities up there. That way you don’t have to drive by yourself and can pay more attention to Archer, so my poor baby boy doesn’t spend all the time alone in the backseat.”

I chance a look at Frankie, who is glaring at me. She looks like she’s ready to kill. But we both know she can’t say anything without telling her parents about me, about us. She’s not ready for that yet. So, she’s stuck with me. Round one: Ben.

“Sorry, what?” I can tell by Frankie’s tone she’s trying to hold on to a semblance of control and not kill me right here in her parents living room, with our son present. I guess my next statement won’t help.

“Yeah, I wanted to decide on a college anyway, and this way I save money on a flight, we can split the gas money, and you don’t have to drive yourself. Long drives like that can be tiring and dangerous.” I smile at her.

“That isn’t necessary. I really don’t mind the drive. Why don’t you wait a week or two, and let me see if I can find you a place to stay?” She smiles sweetly, but it doesn’t do anything to hide her anger. Her tone clearly tells me to back the fuck off. But I never listened to warnings.

“Oh, don’t be silly. The boy offers to help you, so you should be thankful. And don’t you have an extra room in your house where he could stay?” Her father is a clueless man. Not only does he not realize she’s probably picking out his headstone right now, but he’s also unaware he made things even easier for me. I don’t let the chance pass me by.

“Oh, that would be awesome, Frankie. I would really appreciate it if I could crash at your house for a few days.”

I expect her to pounce on me, rip my balls off, and shove them down my throat. So I’m shocked when she speaks next.

“Sure, why not? I’ll just check with my roommates,” she says, turning toward the stairs. She looks back at me over her shoulder, a smile on her face.

“Since it is two drivers now, we can drive into the night. How about we pack and leave now? I have some stuff to prepare for school anyway.”

This was way too easy and my gut tells me this little standoff isn’t over. But I decide to play along, making the best of it.

When I walk past her to put my stuff into the car a little later, I wink at her. “I’ll get that trust back, Frankie. I’ll get you back.”

Once we’re done loading the car, we walk back inside to say our goodbyes. Frankie has Archer in her arms when she addresses her parents.

“Mom, Dad? Before we leave I need to tell you something. Ben is Archer’s father. We had sex eighteen months ago on your couch right there after he drank your whiskey. It was really good too. The sex, not the whiskey.”

Motherfucker. I’m a dead man. Jesus fucking Christ. Her dad will skin me. Their heads turn in my direction and her dad is actually baring his teeth at me. I knew my little game wouldn’t go unpunished, but I never figured she’d pull a number like that. I see her walking toward the door.

“You have five minutes. After that I’m leaving.”

Oh hell, she didn’t. She has barely closed the door behind her when her father roars.

“You fucked my daughter and then left? Son of a bitch. We basically raised you, shared our home with you, and you aren’t man enough to be there for your son.” His face is red, spittle flying from his mouth with every word he utters. I’ve never heard him cuss like this.

Her mother keeps on shaking her head, joining her husband in ripping me a new one. “How could you, Benjamin? How could you do this to my grandson?”

“You better make this right. I can’t believe you of all people would do something like this to us.”

“Sir, I—” I try to say something, apologize—anything to calm him down, but her mother doesn’t let me get a word in.

“I don’t want to hear a thing from you right now, young man. We trusted you, treated you like a son,” she shouts, still shaking her head and for a brief second I wonder if she’s going to give herself a concussion. That thought makes me snort which in the current situation equals a death sentence.

Her father takes a step toward me.

“You find this funny? Is it? Is it funny to you? You knock up my daughter in our house, disappear, and don’t have the guts to take responsibility for your actions—” he thunders, the vein on his forehead throbbing. His shouting is interrupted by Dave laughing in the corner.

“Dude, you have ten seconds. I’d hurry.”

I look at Frankie’s parents, who are about to skin me alive. I hate not talking this out, explaining the situation, letting them know I didn’t know about Archer. That I’m not that much of an asshole. But I don’t have the time.

I mumble, “I’m sorry.” Then I turn on my heels and rush out of the house and into the car. Any longer in there and her father would have nailed me to the wall by my balls.

“That was a shitty move, Frankie. They nearly ate me alive.”

She pulls out of the driveway before I even have my seatbelt on.

“It’s called karma, Ben. She is a vengeful little bitch. It was her way to say thank you for this current arrangement. And as for your second statement, welcome to my life.”

I decide to keep my mouth shut, hoping my irritation with her will wear off soon. If I weren’t so pissed off, I’d be impressed. She sure paid me back—like the Frankie I used to know. Even if she threw me to the wolves. Round two goes to Frankie.

About half an hour later my anger has dissipated and it dawns on me that her parents not once seemed upset about me leaving Frankie, about me hurting her. They only seemed concerned about me not being there for Archer and feeling disrespected by my actions.

Frankie’s feelings didn’t seem to matter at all and thinking back to the past two days, it appears they really don’t. Not one word was uttered by either of them to Frankie showing any kind of affection or concern. All they had to offer her was criticism, reprimands, and flat out insults. Except for a couple instances, she didn’t even stand up for herself, instead just taking what they dished out. Her earlier statement rings in my head. ‘Everything I do is based on Archer’s well-being, or do you think I come for the happy visits with my parents because I have some kind of masochistic tendencies.’ She puts up with all this crap because of Archer.

When my phone vibrates, interrupting my train of thought, I make a mental note to talk to Frankie about it.

Right now, she’s focused on the road, looking more content than she has since she got to her parents’ house two days ago. Glad I could be of service, I suppose.

I check my phone to find a message from Dave.

Don’t fuck it up again or I’ll fuck you up.

He knew more than he let on. There isn’t a word indicating he’s shocked or surprised by Frankie’s revelation. I’m contemplating what to answer when the phone vibrates again.

Welcome to the family. ;-)

Another message alert.

A word of advice. No pork, only turkey.

I have no clue what he’s trying to say with this, but that’s Dave. There is no point in asking for more clarification. I just have to wait and see. And that doesn’t just go for his cryptic message, but for what lies ahead too.

I wake up past nine after passing out cold last night. We arrived here in Northampton past midnight after a long drive—which was equal parts disgusting, triumphant, emotionally draining, and exciting.

I changed a diaper for the first time which was the disgusting part of the trip. How a little baby can produce such a stench, is beyond me. He could be used as a weapon of mass destruction. And the smell was nothing compared to what was waiting in the diaper. Sweet baby Jesus. I gag just thinking about it.

But showing Frankie I’m in this seemed to thaw the ice between us. Even more so when Dave’s cryptic message came into play, allowing me to pick the right food for her at the service area.

Back on the road, Frankie told me so much about her life here, Archer’s birth, and all the months I missed with him. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact she gave birth to him here in this house, with two dudes and a midwife present.

I had the honor to meet said midwife yesterday, and she wasn’t anything like I expected. I had imagined a strict looking woman with thick glasses and her hair in a tight bun. Instead, Viv looks like she belongs in a band, or a tattoo magazine, or both. She’s tall and slim with purple hair, piercings, and tattoos covering her skin.

I stumble out of bed, still tired as fuck, but too eager to check on Archer and spend time with him. And maybe mess with Frankie a bit. She’s never been this easy to tease. Usually, she never misses a good comeback. It’s fun to see her struggling for composure.

After pulling on a shirt, I knock on her door but get no reply. Maybe she’s still sleeping. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I open the door and walk through. Her bed is empty, but I hear the water running in the bathroom. She must be taking a shower, which is fine by me. I’ll just hang out with Archer.

I turn to the crib ready to spend some one on one time with my son, but find it empty. I look around the room, but Archer is nowhere to be seen. Where the hell is he? What if something happened? I race downstairs, checking the living room and the playpen I noticed yesterday. But again, no Archer. My heart nearly jumps out of my chest as I rush into Frankie’s bathroom.

“What the hell?” Frankie yells at me, startled by my entrance.

“Archer, he isn’t in his crib. He is nowhere in the house.” My breath is coming out in short breaths as I contemplate calling the cops.

“Ben, chill. Dean and Alex are taking care of him so I—or we—could sleep in. They often take him on their bike rides in the mornings.” She just stands there, clutching a towel to her body. There are no signs of fear or worry on her face, and slowly her words filter through to my brain. I exhale, running a hand through my hair. This whole parenting thing isn’t easy. I wonder if Frankie is taking any sedatives to get through it.

“Shit, they scared me. You need to tell me about all the arrangements that are in effect here. I was about two minutes from calling the cops.” Wouldn’t it have been awesome if I got her friends arrested for kidnapping? I’m sure my chances with her would’ve skyrocketed.

Even though the panic quickly subsides, my pulse doesn’t slow down as I take her in, standing there with the towel wrapped around her. It covers the best parts, but barely. I drink in the sight before me, her body rounder, softer, additional padding in all the right places. Water droplets make her skin glisten and the thought of running my tongue over her body makes me hard. The memory of her beneath me, writhing, coming undone, makes me throb with need. I let my eyes roam back up. She’s blushing, her breath has quickened, and when I meet her eyes, I can see desire beneath all the fear and hurt. I want to yank the towel off, grab her, and fuck her against the sink, obliterating all the doubts she has in the process.

“I would like to get dressed now. Would you mind?” She glares at me, tugging the towel tighter around her body. It looks like there won’t be any fucking anytime soon.

“Sure, sorry.” I allow myself another look at her before I turn to walk out. I’m totally screwed. She won’t make winning her back easy, and I have the horrible suspicion by the time it happens
Blue-balls
will be my new middle name.

***

I’m downstairs when Frankie appears a little later, followed by a grumpy looking Viv, who’s wearing men’s boxer shorts and a sweatshirt.

“So how did you sleep, douchebag?” Viv walks past me toward the coffee machine with a frown on her face and her purple hair a disheveled mess.

I’m just about to answer when Dean and Alex come through the door with Archer in Dean’s arms. My witty reply forgotten, I cross the room with big strides, stopping right in front of Dean, holding my arms out for Archer. I more or less check him over before taking off his hat and jacket and nuzzling his little head.

Looking up, I find Dean glowering at me with his arms crossed over his chest. “We’ve been taking care of him since he was born. I think we know what we’re doing.”

“Sorry, man. I meant no offense. I just freaked out when he was gone this morning.” I try to diffuse the sudden tension, not wanting to piss off Frankie’s best friend who took care of her while I was gone. At least not on my first day here.

I remember Dean from high school. He was two years behind me, but actually in most of my classes since he’s always been a smart son of a bitch. We’ve never run in the same circles though. Never had much in common—except Frankie.

Dean doesn’t say anything. Giving me another evil eye, he turns and walks into the kitchen. He kisses both Frankie and Viv on the cheek before grabbing a cup of coffee. Alex plops down next to me at the counter, waiting for Dean to pass him an orange juice. Bouncing Archer on my knees, I attempt to ignore the awkward tension in the room. Everyone is silent, a frown firmly set on everyone’s face. They all appear to be thrilled to have me here.

I exhale on a sigh, wondering if this is how the next few days are going to be. Frankie’s makeshift family wants to rip me a new one and it makes me wonder how bad she was doing after I left.

“So where have you been? What have you been up to?” Dean breaks the silence. His expression is full of unspoken criticism as he stares me down.

I’m not sure how to answer so I stay quiet. I can’t talk about it, can’t tell Frankie what’s been going on. Not now, not before I have destroyed every wall she built around her. I don’t know how she’ll react. What if she thinks I’m like my dad? What if she worries about Archer spending time with me? I can’t risk that. I need more time, and I definitely don’t want to talk about it with everyone else around.

So instead of replying, I snuggle Archer to me and kiss his head. When I look back up, I notice Frankie looking at me out of the corner of her eyes like she’s waiting for a response. The tension in the room intensifies as Dean starts to drum his fingers against the coffee mug and Viv clears her throat. I wouldn't be surprised if they attempted to tar and feather me. I wish I could get out of this room, but have no excuse to leave. Thankfully, an older woman walking through the front door saves me.

“Good morning, everyone. I brought muffins—fresh out of the oven,” she says while walking into the kitchen, stopping short, looking me up and down.

“Mrs. Walsh, this is Ben. Ben, this is Mrs. Walsh.” Frankie introduces us before grabbing plates from the cupboard.

Mrs. Walsh comes over, giving me another once-over. “No wonder she couldn’t say no to you. If only I were thirty years younger.”

“Oh, dear.” Frankie sighs while scrambling some eggs. I have to laugh at the situation, not sure what to say to Mrs. Walsh. Not like I can tell her that even thirty years younger, she’d still be way too old.

“It’s the truth, Frankie.” Mrs. Walsh smiles mischievously. I think I’m going to like this woman. She’s the only one who doesn’t openly hate me. I decide to make the best out of her comment.

“You know, Frankie. We should listen to our elders. They are so much wiser than we are.” I wink at Mrs. Walsh, causing her face to break out into a grin. From the looks of it, I’d say I found my first ally in this house. And thank fuck for it because with Dean’s comment I know I’ll need it.

“Everyone can be wrong at times. Even old people.” Dean shoots me another disapproving look. His loyalty and protectiveness toward Frankie are impressive, although he annoys the fuck out of me right now.

After breakfast, Frankie shows me around the house and explains where everything is, about all the arrangements and routines in place. By the time we’re done, I know what I need to know about my new home and my son. My head is spinning with all the new information.

We sit down in the living room where Dean is playing with Archer. It’s stupid, but I’m jealous. Archer knows him, feels safe with him, and relates more to him than he does to me. Lost in thought, I barely register Frankie talking to me.

“So I have school and work tomorrow. Normally Mrs. Walsh would watch Archer, but I was wondering if you want to.” The expression on her face is apprehensive as if she expects me to say no.

Hell, the thought of having all the responsibility is fucking petrifying. I know about as much about babies as I do about brain surgery. But I want to prove to her that I can do this—I want to learn and be there for my son and for her—even if I might still need some help. It’s the only way Archer and I will grow close.

“I’d love to. As long as you leave me your phone number and Mrs. Walsh is around as backup. I don’t want to fuck up. I’ve never done this before,” I say, unsure how she’ll react to my request. But when I look at her, she’s beaming.

“That sounds like a good idea. I’ll talk to Mrs. Walsh when she comes over for dinner, but I’m sure she’ll be fine with it. And you can call me anytime—I appreciate you being cautious.” She then proceeds to write down her phone number.

Taking the piece of paper from her, I make sure our fingers touch. “Thanks.”

For a moment, she closes her eyes, but when she opens them again, she withdraws her hand and leans back. “No problem. And Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. It’s easier than you think.”

Giving her a little smile, I nod. But inside, I feel frantic. I wish I was as confident in my abilities as she seems to be. I can only hope I don’t prove her wrong.