That One Day (That One #1.5) (17 page)

“Come to Alex, little nugget. Let’s leave these two to their silly fight.” With Archer in his arms, he makes his way to the kitchen to join Mrs. Walsh, who is watching us like we’re a science project.

“I get that you’re not my biggest fan—” I start, but am interrupted by Dean muttering, “You could say that.” Undeterred, I continue, “And you have every right to dislike me. But I’m trying here. I want to make up for the shit I pulled. I know I fucked up.” I think about my next words, but Dean’s expression is less than encouraging. His lips are pursed, his eyebrows raised half an inch, and his arms are folded over his chest.

He won’t make this easy for me. I need him on my side though. Or at least to stay the hell out of Frankie’s and my business, so I have a chance to repair what I’ve broken. I decide to be honest. “You don’t have to like me. I’m not expecting you to. Can you at least try to give me a chance here? Frankie values your opinion. I have no chance of proving myself to her if you hate me.”

He stares at me for a moment before he relents. “Fine. But don’t make me regret it.”

I just nod. There isn’t anything else to say.

Once Dean goes over to Alex to greet Archer, I know the situation has been diffused. But another peace offering can’t hurt.

“How about I cook dinner for us tonight?” I suggest and know it’s a good idea when Mrs. Walsh proves herself to be my number one fan again.

“You repair things and you cook. I’m not sure my old heart can take it.”

Alex perks up. “You repair things?”

“Yeah, why?”

I catch Dean shooting Alex a glare, but it doesn’t stop Alex from talking.

“Hmm…well, we’ve been trying to fix up the house, but between work, school, and lack of talent or enthusiasm, the only room actually fixed upstairs is Frankie’s.”

“Hell, that isn’t a problem. I can start tomorrow if you want.”

Alex’s face breaks out in a grin, while Dean continues to shoot daggers at both of us. But once we start talking ideas for their room while I prepare the food, the tension starts to dissipate. The thought of getting his room fixed seems to make him hate me a little less. I’m not above taking advantage of that.

Viv gets into the conversation as soon as she’s through the door. Between trying my pasta sauce and discussing the color scheme for her room, she even starts calling me by my first name instead of
douchebag
. So far day one has been a success. With the help of her little family, I might be able to convince Frankie I’m not the asshole she thinks I am.

Two days later, Mrs. Walsh is too busy meeting up with her girlfriends to hang out with me and Archer. So it’s just him and me.

Frankie fed him after he woke up and changed his diaper, much to my delight. I love Archer to bits. More than I imagined possible. But this whole diaper-changing business—it’s absolutely disgusting. Women must have some built-in resistance to deal with it.

With that daunting task out of the way, we go play in the sunroom. All the pillows laid out on the floor make it a perfect place for a little baby. There is not much he can hurt himself with.

I sit across from Archer, trying to teach him to play ball with me. I roll the ball toward him and he catches it right away, holding it up with both of his pudgy arms.

“Roll it to Daddy, Archer,” I encourage him.

My efforts are useless as he’s busy lifting the ball higher and trying to lick it. This makes him lose his balance and he topples back onto the pillows, his arms and legs up in the air, the ball in front of his face.

I scoot over to him, peeking out behind the ball, which sends him into a fit of giggles. And so a game of peekaboo begins. I could do this for hours and never get bored with it—making him laugh and smile. Frankie was right when she said he’s a happy baby.

He’s the best medicine for a bad mood. Any worries or negativity dissipates around him.

But I promised Dean and Alex their new room, so I should get to it. Sighing, I get up with Archer in my arms, when my phone starts to ring. A look on the screen has me smiling.

“Hey, Al. What’s up?”

“Hey. Everything’s great here. The more pressing question is, how are things going for you?” Allie’s voice is bright and cheery, even in the early morning hours.

“Better sit down,” I warn her. “The short version: I saw Frankie again. She’s not my biggest fan. We have a son and I’m living with her, her friends, and my son in Northampton.”

A high-pitched squeal follows my revelation and makes my ears ring. Even Archer leans back in my arms and away from the phone.

“You’re a dad? Oh my God. I need pictures. Now. He’s not as miserable as you, is he?” I try to get a word in and answer her questions, but she’s unstoppable.

“Jake. Ben has a son. With Frankie. He’s a dad. Of a cute little baby boy. Can we have a baby?”

I start laughing when I hear Jake groan. “Thanks, man.”

They start arguing about babies and timing, ignoring me completely, so I hang up. Archer is tugging at my necklace, demanding my attention and he gets it when I kiss his head. When they say babies’ heads smell divine, they definitely don’t lie. Someone should bottle the smell up and sell it. It would make millions.

Back in the living room, I’m busy buying a sander online to take care of the wood floors. It’s not an easy task with Archer on my lap trying to hit the keys. It’s a miracle I’m successful without accidently spending a few thousand on other stuff thanks to my son’s enthusiasm.

I’m surprised when the front door opens and a disheveled looking Viv saunters in. At first I think she was out delivering a baby, but when she takes off her jacket and I see her top is inside out, I realize that’s not the case.

My eyebrows rise in question. “Doing the walk of shame?”

She lifts her chin in challenge. “That would imply there is something to be ashamed of. So the answer is no.”

I laugh at her defiant attitude. “Point taken. Didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not. We’re just fuck buddies.”

Though her blunt honesty surprises me, I like it. “Okay.”

“I don’t do relationships, but a vibrator is only so satisfying,” she continues. “Besides, it definitely can’t eat you out like you’re a five-star meal.”

For a moment, I’m a little shocked by her statement, but her no-fucks-to-give attitude impresses me. It’s how I used to be before all the lies and deception changed me. I’d always speak my mind without caring what people thought or expected.

“Good for you, then.”

“What you’re doing?” she asks, while sitting down next to me, her eyes on the screen. Archer immediately loses interest in me and the laptop and strains to get to Viv. Once on her lap, he just keeps looking and poking the colorful tattoos covering nearly every visible inch of her skin.

“Buying some tools to work on the rooms.”

“Oh, fucking awesome. I was thinking for mine you could build this…” She takes off into a thirty-minute explanation about her ideas and vision. She even follows me to Dean and Alex’s room, seated in the hallway, Archer in her lap, babbling on while I work.

Later that evening, Frankie and I bring Archer to bed. First she reads to him, but since he’s still awake, I decide to sing him a song. It worked like a charm last time.

Frankie sits down on the floor, her back against the side of her bed, her legs stretched out. She looks at Archer and me, a gentle smile on her face softening her features. For the first time, she appears unguarded around me.

I want to sing something not just for Archer, but for her, as well. Something with meaning.

I settle on “Here Without You” by 3 Doors Down, hoping she’ll understand this is about us, about how I felt without her for the past months.

I start to sing, my voice low, and I cradle Archer to my chest. The light in the room is dim, only the lamp on the nightstand on. I focus on Archer at first, but once his eyes flutter closed and his breathing slows, I look at his mother.

Her knees are drawn to her chest, her arms and chin resting on top of them. She looks at me, but the earlier smile is gone. Her expression is more wistful, her eyes sad. I don’t miss the glossiness of unshed tears and it rips me apart to see her like that. The woman who used to kick everyone’s ass, who was unstoppable. I hurt her. I know I did, and I have no idea how to make it up to her. No clue how to undo the damage I caused.

I finish the song and tuck Archer into his crib after kissing his forehead.

Straightening up, I turn back to Frankie, not sure what to say, but overwhelmed with the need to say something. To make things better somehow.

“Frankie—” I start, but she interrupts me. She speaks quietly, like she’s hesitant to ask. “Where were you, Ben? Where did you go? Why?”

Her voice breaks, betraying how much she needs an answer. An answer I’m not ready to give her. An answer that could make her run from who I might become one day. Who would want to be with someone who isn’t right in the head?

“Frankie, can we not talk about it?” I say, my tone gentle.

“Sure. Why not? Not like I give a damn anymore.” She gets up and walks to the bathroom. “I’m going to bed. You can do whatever the fuck you want.” She closes the door to the bathroom behind her, and I’m left standing in the room by myself.

Winning her back won’t be easy, not while I’m keeping secrets from her. It feels like every time we take a step forward, we take two steps back.

It doesn’t get better the next day, despite my attempts to flirt with her, to coax her out of her shell.

It seems by now everyone has warmed up to me except her. Do I trust Dean and Viv to not castrate me if they get the slightest inkling I might screw her over? No. But my cooking talent, the work on the house, as well as my love for Archer have allowed them to see more in me than the asshole who left their friend behind.

Before dinner, I go to my room to call my dad.

“Ben?”

“Hey Dad, what’s up?”

“Thank God, you’re all right. I haven’t heard from you in a few days.” He speaks with a slightly shaky voice, emotions getting the best of him. It puts me straight on edge. I never know what to expect from him and it’s exhausting. Having to watch what you say and how you say it makes the conversation with him tedious. But above all, those moments are scary because they make my fear even more real.

“Sorry. It’s only been a few days. Things are just really busy here with me figuring out how to be a father.”

“You don’t like it?” he asks, his tone inquisitive.

“God, no, I love it. It’s the most daunting, scary, and exhausting job ever invented. But even though I’m tired, both mentally and physically, I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. He’s my son and I already missed so much. Wouldn’t want to miss another second.”

“That’s good, Ben. Really good. I’m happy for you. Just don’t lose yourself, your identity. Don’t end up like me.”

Yeah, like I’m not worried enough about that as it is.

“And how are things with Frankie?”

Frustrating. Depressing. Hopeless.

I settle for a less loaded reply. “Complicated.”

“As soon as a woman is involved, that’s the only way things can be, Son.” He laughs.

Thanks, Dad, for that useless bit of wisdom.

Before I can say anything, there’s a knock on the door, followed by Frankie peeking in. “Dinner is ready.”

She stops in her tracks when she notices the phone.

“Gotta go,” I tell my dad and hang up while he’s still talking.

“Who was it?” Frankie attempts to sound nonchalant, but fails.

“No one. Doesn’t matter.” My answer is absolutely stupid, yet the only thing that came to mind. And it was the wrong thing to say.

“Whatever,” she says, turns around, and slams the door behind her before I can stop her.

I try to call my dad to apologize for hanging up on him, but he doesn’t want to talk to me right now. According to the nurse, he was too distraught after the conversation.

Mission accomplished for the day. I’m fucking up at every turn. Frankie’s angry and hurt, and my dad has a meltdown courtesy of me. Suddenly, I miss my one-on-one time with a bottle of whiskey.

But remembering Mike, I make the choice to go downstairs for dinner and see if the evening can be saved somehow.

Frankie is quiet for most of dinner, so quiet that Alex remarks on it. “You okay, Frankie?”

“Huh?” She startles, obviously lost in thought. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Fine. The little brother of
I hate each and every single one of you right now
,” Viv comments, making me snort against my better judgment.

“I’m really fine.” Frankie gives me a pointed look. “Just lost my appetite.”

“What’s wrong?” Dean now joins in.

Another look in my direction follows. “Doesn’t matter.” She throws my earlier words in my face. Then she turns to Archer, not sparing me another glance.