by Josie Wright
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.
Chapter 21
A Frosty Welcome
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 abou
t 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.
Chapter 22
Breaking the Ice
After another night of tossing and turning, trying to come to terms with my new reality, I finally get up and make my way to Frankie’s room.
Today I’ll be alone with Archer for the first time. Yesterday it sounded like a good idea, now I’m not so sure. But if Frankie thinks I can do it, then I’m determined to prove her right.
Last night she taught me how to bathe Archer, and I can honestly say it was the first time anyone ever peed on me. I don’t care for it very much. Not sure why my son thinks it’s a good bonding experience, but at least it amused Frankie.
Knowing I was nervous about today, I guess she wanted me to get as much practice with Archer as possible. So while she cleaned the bathroom, I was tasked with putting Archer to bed. With him all snuggled up in my arms, I decided to sing for him and since Frankie was within earshot, my song choice was more for her than him. We might not be able to talk to each other without it ending in an argument, but there are things I want to tell her, things she needs to know. So I chose a song to tell her how I felt without her while I was gone. To let her know I’ve never stopped thinking about her or our night together. That every second of it is seared into my heart and brain. I chose the one song that has haunted me for eighteen months—“Ain’t No Sunshine” by Bill Withers.
***
When I walk into her room she’s getting ready for her day, wearing a tight, grey dress that hugs every single one of her curves. I openly check her out because why not. She looks smoking hot.
“Morning. You’re looking good.” I don’t say the rest that’s on my mind right now, like I’d love to bend you over the dresser and fuck you until you scream my name. Living in the same house as her and not being able to touch her, kiss her, or taste her will give me carpal tunnel syndrome.
“Thanks. You’re ready for your daddy duty today?”
“I guess as ready as I’ll ever be,” I pause, deciding to be honest because I’m fucking petrified I’ll screw up, “but you better leave your phone on at all times. Just in case.”
She reassures me that I’ll be fine and I do appreciate the effort, hoping it will be as easy as she makes it sound.
“Don’t worry so much. It’s something that comes naturally. Just try and listen to what Archer is trying to tell you. He’ll let you know when he needs, or wants, something. As long as you act like a grown-up and not go crazy, there isn’t much that can go wrong.”
Dread washes over me at her last statement, my father coming to mind. Not going crazy—if she only knew the truth, she’d never leave me alone with Archer, never would put this kind of trust in me.
I’m brought back to reality when she puts Archer in my arms. He snuggles up to me, trying to grab my ear with his tiny fingers.
Frankie says goodbye to Archer, her reluctance to leave apparent on her face and in the tightness of her voice.
She leans forward, kissing Archer’s forehead. “Love you, little man.” Then, before I can register what’s happening, she stands on her toes, kissing my cheek. “Love ya.”
What the hell just happened? Did I step into some alternate universe? Am I hallucinating? Not that long ago, she wanted to kill me. Now she says she loves me. I stare at her, waiting for some kind of explanation, so I don’t make a fool out of myself.
“Oh God, sorry…I…damn…sorry,” she stutters, her face turning an alarming shade of red. “Shit, I usually say goodbye to Dean or Alex holding Archer. I guess it’s a habit. I…hell, I will go fling myself in front of a truck now.” She’s completely flustered. Without sparing me another look, she darts out of the room and down the stairs. I’m surprised she doesn’t end up falling over her own feet, being the klutz she is.
Laughing, I make my way downstairs with Archer in my arms. “So buddy, you think your mommy loves your daddy?” I tweak the tip of his nose, which prompts him to wiggle it. “Yeah, I think she does.”
T
hough Archer can’t confirm my suspicion, I don’t believe this was a blunder. More like her subconscious talking. And I really like what it was saying.
With a huge grin on my face, I set Archer in his playpen. Frankie fed him already, so I just grab some cereal for myself and sit down on the floor. I grab my phone and dial the number for St. Michael’s. It takes five minutes until my dad is on the phone. By then I’m nearly done with my breakfast.
“Hey, Dad. It’s me,” I mumble, my mouth still full of food.
“Ben. Good to hear from you. Everything okay? Your voice sounds muffled.”
I quickly swallow the food. “Yeah, sorry. I was eating. How are you?”
“I’m good, Son. As good as I’ll ever get. It’s just a little lonely without you around.”
Guilt snakes around my heart, making me wonder if this is how I’ll always feel when it comes to leaving him behind.
“I know. But we can talk on the phone.”
After a moment of silence, in which I hope he isn’t heading for another breakdown, he finally speaks again.
“So tell me, have you succeeded in your mission?”
“I’m working on it. You could say there have been a few surprises,” I say, downplaying the real magnitude of what happened in the past few days.
“Really, what kind of surprises?” Dad asks, genuine interest lacing his voice.
Looking at Archer, I take a deep breath. “Turns out the night I spent with Frankie, well, she got pregnant. I have a kid, Dad. A son. His name is Archer. He’s absolutely amazing. You should see him. He’s the best thing I’ve ever accomplished.” While I wait for my dad to respond, I tickle Archer through the bars of the playpen, making him giggle until he falls backward onto the mat.