Unexpected Daddies

by Lively, R. S.

  "It doesn't seem like either of you have. Not really."

  I shake my head.

  "I don't want a relationship that has been created. I don't need to be fixed up by my grandmother or forced into anything."

  "No one is trying to force you into anything," Cade says.

  "Stop," I say. "I left this town because I never wanted to feel like I had no options or opportunities. I went and started my own life so I could always make my own choices. I don't appreciate the two of you trying to take that from me."

  I turn to leave the room, but Grammie stands.

  "Fiona," she says sharply.

  She looks like she's going to try to defend herself, but the back door opens, and her friends stream, laughing, into the room.

  "Are you ready, Rose?" one asks. "We have your luggage in the car. We've got to hit the road if we're going to make it to the Heights before brunch. You don't want to miss their eggs benedict."

  How appropriate.

  Grammie meets my eyes, and I see her shoulders lower as she lets out a long breath.

  "I only want what's best for you, Fiona," she says. "One day, you'll realize that."

  She steps away from the table, looks at Cade for a brief second, and walks out of the house. Again, Cade and I are alone.

  I walk out of the kitchen and stalk up the stairs toward my bedroom to get dressed. I hear Cade following me, but I slam the door before he can come in with me.

  * * *

  Cade

  "Fiona, open the door!" I shout.

  She doesn't answer, and I shake the doorknob. It's locked, and I slam my hands against the door angrily.

  "Why do you have to be like this?"

  The door opens sharply, and Fiona glares out at me, her eyes on fire, and her face red with anger.

  "Excuse me?" she demands. "Why do I have to be like this?"

  "Just talk to me," I say. "There's no need for you to overreact like this."

  "You knew the entire time," she hisses. "You knew from the very beginning this was all bullshit."

  "I told you, I knew Grammie wasn't really seriously hurt."

  "No," she says, shaking her head. "No, that's not it. It was almost cute when you knew she wasn't badly hurt, but that she wanted to see me. But, it's more than that. You knew she wasn't hurt and was just manipulating me so she could force us to be in the same house together again. I haven't been back here in ten years, and she knew the only thing that would make me ever consider coming back here was if she really needed me. You knew that, too, so the two of you worked together to orchestrate this whole absurd scheme. You even hired another person to help you just so you could order him around, and then make a show of sweeping in and rescuing me from his creepy advances."

  "That's not true."

  "You already knew Grammie was going to leave in just a couple of days, leaving us alone together, and I'd have no choice but to help you with everything you'd promised Grammie you'd get done. Then you planned the big reveal of your assistant to impress me."

  "You absolutely had a choice," I say. "Just like you just said in the kitchen. You left here so you could have all the choices you wanted. You didn't have to come out here to help Grammie, but you did because you feel as loyal to her as I do. And when she left, you didn't have to stay. Who cares if I promised her I'd get work done around the house? That's my responsibility. You had the choice of just walking away, but you didn't. Why is that, Fiona?"

  "Don't try to turn this around on me, Cade. This is you. This is you and my grandmother. It was all for show."

  "Listen to me," I demand. "That isn't true. Yes, I knew Grammie wasn't hurt, but that's only because I walked into her bedroom and found her running across it to get the TV remote. I made her tell me what was going on, and she asked me not to tell you because she didn't want you to be upset and wanted to spend more time with you. So, yes, I didn't tell you. It had nothing to do with some big scheme. I didn't tell you because she didn't want me to, but also because I wanted to spend time with you, too. I've missed you for so long, Fiona, and it finally seemed like things were starting to get back to normal with us. You weren't happy to see me at first, but I could see it. There were flickers of what used to be. I hoped if we had the chance to be near each other again, all those old feelings would come back. Like I've said before, it probably wasn't the best choice. I should have told you. But that doesn't change why I did it."

  "I don't like being lied to, Cade. You lied to me, and you manipulated me rather than just coming back for me."

  "I never meant for you to feel that way. I swear."

  I walk toward her, wanting to gather her into my arms, but Fiona steps away. She holds up her hand, stopping me from drawing any closer to her. Our eyes meet, and I see the fury has drained away, leaving behind pain and sadness.

  "Even if you didn't, I just can't do this. It's been too long. Too much has happened. Right now, I am just too angry and frustrated. I'm too hurt by everything that's happened between us to even try. I wanted to think I could put all these years behind us, but I just can't. I can't handle this anymore. I need you to leave."

  "What?" I ask, not believing what I just heard.

  "Leave, Cade," Fiona repeats. "I need you to go. Go home. Go back to your billionaire life and do whatever it is you've been doing for the last decade. I don't need you anymore, and it's obvious you don't need me."

  "How can you say that? I have never stopped needing you."

  "Spare me, Cade. You don't need anything but yourself. You said as much. You live your solitary life in your obscene Clue-board mansion, telling people what to do for a living. You say you're doing what Gramps taught you to do, but that's not true. He never would have acted the way you do. He got his hands dirty. He worked hard every single day. He never would have dressed himself up and raked in money by getting people to do his bidding. You've forgotten where you came from, Cade, and I can't deal with that."

  "I have never forgotten, Fiona. I carry that with me every day. Just because I'm somewhere different doesn't mean I don't remember where I started. Gramps would have told me to do whatever was right for me, and to find as much success as I possibly could. That's what I did. I told you why I did all of this."

  "I know you did. But it's not enough, Cade. I thought it was, but it's not. You can't just disappear for all that time and then come back, expecting your money and power to just sweep me off my feet and make me forget about everything else. I have my own life, and that's the one I'm going to live. You need to go now. It's over between us. Finally, it's over."

  I feel completely gutted. Everything that has been building inside me had been torn out, and I'm a hollow shell as I step back into the hall and Fiona closes the door behind me. I don't want to leave. There isn't a single part of me that wants to walk out of this house without her again. But if there is nothing else in this world I know, I know Fiona. And I know that nothing is capable of changing her mind right now. I won't be able to get through to her, and if I keep trying, it will only make it worse. For now, I have no choice but to go.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Fiona

  Three days later…

  The house feels like it's echoing around me as I walk through it. In the days since Cade left, my anger has eased enough that I can look at what happened more honestly. I know I overreacted. I shouldn't have responded to my grandmother the way I did, and yesterday, I called her to apologize. I told her I'm still upset at her for lying and trying to manipulate the situation rather than just letting me lead my own life, but that I know she did it because he loves me, and wants me to be happy. Grammie admitted that having me come to the house was a way to force me to see Cade again, but that she did it because she thought it's what I needed. The phone conversation we had a couple of weeks before I came out here worried her, and she wanted to do something to bring the spark back into my life.

  The conversation left me feeling better, and I decided to honor my commitment, and stay at the house to try to fin
ish as many of the repairs as I can. Not having anyone here to help is making it much more difficult, but I'm actually finding I enjoy the challenge. It's exciting to push myself, and as I work my way through the house, I feel like I am reconnecting to my grandfather in a way I haven't in the years since he died. I don't have much time left before my vacation ends, but I'll do as much as I can. The harder I work, the less I think about the painful, empty feeling inside every time I find something that reminds me of Cade.

  * * *

  Two weeks later…

  "Fiona? Fiona? Tina?"

  I jump slightly and look up to see Esme standing in front of my desk. I wonder how long I've been staring into the distance.

  "What? Sorry."

  "Are you ready?"

  "For what?"

  "For lunch. Where are you?"

  I shake my head, trying to snap myself back to reality. Ever since I returned to work, I haven't been able to focus. Not that I was terribly good at focusing before, but now it feels like I'm in a completely different place. I walk into the office every morning feeling like I'm walking into someone else's life. I keep waiting for that other person to show up and tell me they’re taking their life back now, and I can go live my own.

  "I'm sorry, Esme," I say. "I'm here. I am."

  I pull my bag out of the bottom drawer of my desk and follow her to the elevator. All around me, my coworkers are scurrying around the office, fully invested in what they're doing. Even those literally gathered around the water cooler seem secure in what they're doing. I walk past them, feeling like I'm in a different reality from them. For some reason, I can't connect with them anymore, and it leaves me feeling like I'm in a fog.

  "Are you still thinking about him?" Esme asks as we walk out of the building.

  I want to deny it. I don't want to admit I haven't been able to leave Cade or the time we spent together in Grammie's house behind me, no matter how hard I've tried. As she looks at me, though, I know there's no point in trying to say no. She already knows what's going through my mind.

  "Have you ever felt like you're living someone else's life?" I ask, for the first time putting a voice to the strange sensation.

  "What do you mean?" Esme asks.

  "Are you sure this is what you're supposed to be doing? When you look at your life, where you live, what you wear, your job... do you really feel like it's you?"

  "I've never really thought about it," she says. "But I guess if it didn't feel like I was being my genuine self, I'd know."

  I nod as we approach a food truck parked at the curb. My eyes scan the menu written in several colors of chalk on the blackboard hanging on the side of the truck.

  "You would," I say. "That's exactly how I feel."

  Esme orders for us, and I step to the side to allow the next people in line to get to the window. It's an automatic move, just another part of the orderly little life I live here.

  "What do you mean?"

  She reaches up to get our order from the window without even looking.

  "Like that," I say, pointing at her. "You didn't even look. They didn't even say anything to you. You just knew the food was ready. Everything is so organized and predictable."

  "Is there something wrong with that?" she asks.

  I watch as she picks up a bottle of green-flecked white sauce and makes a squiggle across the top of her foil-wrapped pita sandwich. Without missing a beat, she adds the same squiggle to mine.

  "No," I say. "A lot of people thrive on predictability. Their whole lives are dedicated to creating those patterns, and once they establish them, they never want to let them go. That's perfect for them. But it doesn't seem like it's working for me. I thought it was. I convinced myself that was the kind of life I wanted, and that if I got it, I'd finally feel like I arrived."

  Esme takes a bite of her sandwich and looks at me strangely.

  "Arrived?" she asks. "Arrived where?"

  "Exactly," I say.

  "Exactly what?"

  "I don't know. That's the point. I don't know where I thought I was going to end up, or what I thought it would be like when I got there. I thought everyone felt like this. I thought that was just part of being an adult. You look for your pattern, and you create that life, and then you're... there. But, I feel like I'm still looking because I'm nowhere close to what I'm supposed to have. I'm so disconnected from work and from everything else because I've tried to force myself into something that's not meant for me."

  "What are you going to do?"

  I lean back against a low brick wall that separates the sidewalk from the sad, concrete patio. Taking a bite of my pita, I look out over the street and the tall, mirrored buildings. A few trees have been planted in perfect square sections along the sidewalk, but even they look manufactured.

  "I don't know," I admit.

  "Maybe you just need to have some fun," Esme says. "This weekend a couple of the others from HR and I are going out. Do you want to come?"

  "What are you doing?" I ask.

  "We’re going to an escape room."

  I look at her.

  "A what?" I ask.

  "An escape room. They're going to lock us into a room, and we have to figure out a way to get out."

  I take a final bite of my sandwich, ball up the foil, and toss it into a nearby trashcan before striding resolutely back into the office building.

  "Where are you going?" Esme calls after me.

  I ride the elevator up to the top floor and walk directly to Mr. Hanson's office.

  "Tina," he says in surprise as I open the door without knocking. "What are you doing?"

  "Fiona," I say.

  "What?" he asks.

  "Fiona. My name is Fiona, not Tina. It has always been Fiona. Never Tina. Always Fiona."

  "Fiona!" Esme gasps when she finally catches up to me.

  "I get it," Mr. Hanson says, "Your name is Fiona."

  "What are you doing?" Esme asks.

  I haven't taken my eyes from Mr. Hanson, and I feel a smile forming on my lips.

  "I've come to tell Mr. Hanson that he's going to have to learn another name, because I'm not going to be around anymore."

  "Oh, no! What's wrong?" Esme asks.

  "Nothing," I say, shaking my head. "Nothing's wrong. I just don't work here anymore."

  "You don't?" Mr. Hanson asks.

  I shake my head, a wide smile on my lips now.

  "No."

  I turn and walk out of the office, heading back to my desk so I can clean it out.

  "What's going on?" Esme asks when we get there.

  "I realized it's not so difficult. This isn't the life I want to live anymore. That's it. It's that simple. I don't want to do this anymore."

  "Because I asked you to go to an escape room with me? You don't have to come. I can escape without you, then call you and we can go get ice cream."

  I smile at her. God, I love this woman.

  "No, Esme. That's not it. Well, it is. The escape room – it reminded me of where I should actually be. Being back at my grandmother's house gave me a glimpse of what my life could have been. Maybe I'm not supposed to be with Cade. I've loved him my whole life, and I will probably love him for the rest of it. Hearing him talk about his business and remembering the passion my grandfather had for woodworking and construction makes me think that there could be more out there for me. It finally felt possible to have a life I enjoy. One that actually gives me satisfaction. I don't know what that is right now. I'm not sure what I want out of life, but I know I want something more than this. I want to find something I'm passionate about and wake up excited every day, rather than just going through the motions."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I'm going back. Grammie always told me I could go home. No matter what, no matter how old I am, I can go home. So that's what I'm going to do. I'll go there for a while and finish up the repairs. There's a lot that can be done with that house. I never really saw all the potential, but now I think it could be really amazi
ng. I'll take some time there and figure myself out. After that, I don't know. But you know what? I'm OK with that."

  * * *

  The next day…

  When I pull in, I find the house exactly as I left it. It looks like it's waiting for me, like it knew all along that I'd be back. I unlock the front door and step inside, calling out to my grandmother as I go. I don't expect her to be back, but after her surprise arrival, I can't be too sure. As I expect, only silence is home to greet me. I set to work unloading everything I brought with me into the house, and soon I'm settled back in. Back at my apartment in the city, most of what I own is in boxes. I haphazardly packed last night, but I know I'll have to go back and finish the rest sometime soon. I still have two months on my lease, but my habit of paying rent early means I don't have any further obligations. Sometime within the next two months, I’ll go back and clear out the space. Maybe by then, I'll know what's coming next.

  I walk into the kitchen, and my eyes fall on the coffee maker Cade bought. I run my fingertips along the glossy black surface. The thought of his irrational hatred toward the old coffee maker, and his delight at this one brings a smile to my lips, and tears to my eyes. I try to ignore both as I turn the machine on and pull out a mug. This time, I've come prepared, and I unpack some essentials into the refrigerator and pantry. When my coffee has brewed, I pour in the cream and sugar, and carry it with me out onto the porch so I can call Grammie. The weather is starting to change, and I feel the earliest touch of fall in the evening air.