Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“I want to step up and help you. I just—”
“I’m not asking you to do that, Dayton,” I interrupt him. “I know that we both messed up that night.” I feel my cheeks get hot just thinking about it. “I wasn’t on birth control, and you assumed that this wasn’t even a possibility for you anymore. It’s okay for you to opt-out.”
“This isn’t a fucking subscription plan, Franny,” he mutters, and I start to laugh and end up snorting, which only makes me laugh harder. “Jesus.” He shakes his head, rubbing his hand over his mouth, but I still see the smile he tries to wipe away.
“Sorry.” I hold up my hand as I attempt to get myself under control. “I know you’re not trying to be funny, but that was funny.”
Chuckling, his eyes wander over my face. “Can we take this one day at a time?”
The question causes my laughter to die away in an instant. He looks scared—actually… more like terrified—and I’m sure there’s a reason behind that expression, a bigger one than finding out that he’s going to be a dad. Maybe, one day, he’ll tell me about it, or maybe he won’t. But as I’m starting to come to terms with the fact that there is a tiny human growing inside me, I’m learning quickly that I will do whatever it takes to provide the best life for him or her, and part of doing that is giving Dayton some time to figure out if he wants to be involved.
“Yeah, we can do that,” I agree softly.
“Thanks.” He reaches out and brushes his fingers up my cheek to behind my ear, causing a tingle to race across my scalp and down my spine. As I start to lean into his touch, my phone begins to ring, snapping me out of whatever spell I was slipping under.
“Sorry.” I clear my throat, dropping my gaze from his as I slide off my stool. “I need to get that.”
“Sure.”
Walking to where my phone is plugged in on the counter, I pick it up and slide my finger across the screen when I see it’s Molly.
“Hey.”
“Hey, I’m pulling up with pizza and ice cream,” she says, and I smile.
Of course, she would decide to surprise me with two of my favorite foods after I called her this afternoon, crying because my conversation with Dayton hadn’t gone as planned. No, I didn’t expect him to be excited, but I certainly hadn’t thought he’d be telling me what he had.
“Okay, give me a second, and I’ll let you in.” I hang up and look at Dayton, who has followed me to the edge of the kitchen. “Sorry, my friend Molly is here.”
“That’s all right,” he says, taking out his phone. “Give me your number, and I’ll send you a text so you can get a hold of me if you need anything.”
“Sure.” I quickly give him my cell number, and a second later, my phone beeps with a message from him.
“Got it.” I set down my phone, then walk to the door, opening it, and then look up at him. “I’m glad you stopped by.”
“Yeah, me too,” he says quietly, wrapping his hand around the side of my neck before leaning down to touch his lips to my forehead. “I’m right upstairs if you need me.”
Oh, how quickly I’d forgotten that we live in the same building.
“Night, Franny.”
“Night, Dayton.”
I watch him walk out the door and bite my lip. Although that interaction with him went way better than the one earlier today, I can’t help but feel like things just got a whole lot more complicated.
Sliding into a parking spot near the entrance of the golf club, I put my car in park, quickly grab my bag from the passenger seat, and start digging through it. Finding a pack of chewing gum, I pop a piece in my mouth, hoping the peppermint will distract me from the nausea and the headache I’ve had since I woke up this morning. I don’t know if it will work, but anything is better than feeling like I’m hungover when I most definitely am not. Especially when I have to show up at an event for my dad because Jacob called me this morning—actually hungover—and begged me to take his spot at a golf fundraiser.
I probably wouldn’t be so bad off if I hadn’t stayed up so late with Molly, filling her in on the situation with Dayton. Plus, I was looking at possible places to rent after Matthew gets his crap together and sells our condo or buys me out—something he claims he’s working on. Something I don’t believe he’s putting much effort into.
I think he believes that if he just waits me out, we’ll get back together, and then I’ll eventually move back in.
I can’t blame him for thinking that way since I took him back each time we broke up in the past, but it’s not happening this time. It doesn’t matter how many times he shows up at my place without calling, how many times he asks me to dinner, or texts, or calls. We are done. And not just because I’m pregnant with another man’s child.