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)
“Have you thought about when you’re going to tell your dad about the baby?”
The question brings me out of my thoughts, and I feel sick for a different reason.
“No. I don’t know. Soon,” I say, and he laughs softly. “I’m glad one of us can laugh about it,” I mutter.
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Um, he could force me to tell him who the father is and then harass you until you give in to whatever demands he makes.”
“I’ve got some shit to work through, but I’m here. I’ll be here.”
“You have shit to work through?”
“I didn’t have the best childhood, and I don’t want that shit to ever touch our kid. So yeah, I have some shit to work through.”
“Do you want to tell me about that?” I ask, feeling warmth fill me at him calling the baby “ours.”
“Not right now, but eventually.”
“Okay,” I agree, not wanting to push him, even though I really want to.
CHAPTER 12
Francisca
As I slowly open my eyes, the TV playing on low comes into focus, along with Dayton’s long legs that are stretched out in front of me. His ankles are crossed and resting on the coffee table beside a mess of papers scattered over its surface. Not wanting to let onto the fact that I’m awake, I hold still and just soak in the moment.
This morning around nine, he showed up at my place, asking if I wanted to go get breakfast, and on our way home, he asked if I wanted to come up to his place to watch the show we started the other evening. Since I didn’t have plans and I really wanted to spend time with him, I agreed, so we picked up PJ and came up to his place. Into the fourth episode, he asked if I’d mind if he worked a little, and I said no, so he brought over a file and started reading through it while I lounged and watched the show—not exactly leaning into him… but also kind of leaning into him.
At some point, I must have fallen asleep and was so out of it that he was able to adjust me and place my head on his thigh without waking me up. I’m not sure what to think about him maneuvering me into this position, when he could have just tucked the pillow I was using under my head. It’s the same way I’m not sure what to think about him leaving me last night—with a soft touch of his fingers to my jaw and a kiss to my forehead.
I don’t want to read into things.
I shouldn’t read into things.
But it’s difficult not to think about what it might be like to be with him, to wonder if this could be the start of something more than us just becoming friends so that we can co-parent our child.
When my phone beeps three times in a row on the coffee table, I reluctantly sit up and reach for it while I push my hair out of my face. Seeing that it’s a string of messages from Matthew, I drop it back to where it was and turn to look over at Dayton. With his glasses on and his hair a mess, he looks like a sexy professor who has broken a million hearts.
“Everything okay?”
“It’s just Matthew,” I tell him, and he glares at my phone like if he could blow it up with just a look, then he would.
“What happened between you two?”
“Do you mean, why did we end up divorced?” I ask, and he nods.
“I couldn’t fake it anymore.” I drag my fingers through my hair as I lean back against the couch.
“Fake it?”
“Fake being happy… fake being in love… fake liking the person he had become or the person I was when I was with him.” I smile when PJ gets up and wanders over the top of Dayton’s lap to come to me. “We both changed.” I meet his intense gaze as I shift my fingers through PJ’s fur.
“Or maybe it was just me who changed. I wanted less, and he wanted more, but not more of the things that I think are important. He wanted more stuff—more money, a newer, fancier car, a bigger house—and a bigger role at his father’s law firm. And even though his ambition is something I admire about him, it started to consume not just his life but mine, and I began to resent him for it.” My smile is sad. “I knew that if I didn’t get out, then it wouldn’t be long before that resentment turned into hate, and I didn’t want to hate him.”
“You were together a long time.”
“We were.” I tip my head to the side as I study him. “How about you? What was your longest relationship?”
“I’ve never had one.”
“You’ve never had a relationship?”