That One Day (That One #1.5) (16 page)

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.”

Though 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.

“Dad, you still there?”

“Yeah, sorry. I was just surprised by the news. Wow. How are you dealing with it?”

“It’s a shock. But I already love him and couldn’t imagine my life without him. He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. And, so is Frankie.”

“Well, congratulations. I’m glad you’re happy.” He clears his throat before he continues, “And how is your Frankie dealing with you being back? Has she forgiven you?”

“Not so much, no. But I think we will get there.” I laugh, thinking of this morning. “It’ll take time and some work. I hurt her and she’s hesitant to let me back in. Especially with Archer. She doesn’t want me to disappoint him. It’s hard for her to trust me. It sucks, but I get it.”

“You shouldn’t let her treat you like this. Your needs count, too.” His voice is angry, more so than I ever heard from him. His reaction confuses me.

“What are you talking about, Dad?”

He sighs. “Sorry. I just want you to watch out. You don’t want to sacrifice everything for her to crush your heart. Like your mother did with me.”

Talking to him is frustrating at times. It’s not like I needed a reminder of how fucked-up my situation is. It’s not something I can forget. But what I hate even more is that he would compare Frankie to my mother. The urge to speak up for her is overwhelming.

“Don’t worry. Frankie isn’t like that. She’s just scared.”

“Just be careful. I don’t want you to end up like me.”

Yeah, neither do I. But thanks for the reminder, Dad.

“I’ll be careful,” I say to appease him. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Not with him. His reaction isn’t what I hoped for. Some rational advice would have been nice. Or just him being happy for me. Since that isn’t likely, I decide to change the topic. “So what is new with you?”

It’s all the encouragement he needs to tell me about the most recent breakdowns other patients had. I guess those are the most exciting things that happen in his life. I try to listen, but my attention is mostly on Archer who is now abusing his poor stuffed bear, tugging at his nose, ears, and eyes with determination.

My dad is still going on and on, when I hear the door open and Mrs. Walsh calls my name. I rush out a goodbye and hang up before she’s even made it through the door.

“Hey. We’re in the living room.”

Walking in, she ruffles my hair before she walks over to Archer and does the same to him.

“You two doing well?”

“Yeah, we’re just hanging out. All is good so far.”

“I knew you could do it. Hope you don’t mind me checking in on you.”

“Not at all. Actually…” I sniff the air. “…I think you came at the right time. He might need his diaper changed.” I give her my most charming look.

“Then you better get to it. I’ll text Frankie in the meantime. Knowing her, she’s probably climbing the walls, worrying about you two.”

Grudgingly, I take Archer upstairs. Even after having done this a few times, it doesn’t get easier. And definitely not any less disgusting.

When we come back downstairs, Mrs. Walsh is sitting on the couch, flipping through the TV channels, not paying us much attention.

While she watches some talk show, I play with Archer, bouncing him on my knee and making him fly through the room like a little, drooling airplane. After a while we’re both out of breath, me from hauling his chubby behind around and him from giggling so much. So I plop us down on the couch.

“So tell me, did you come back to stay?”

Damn, she doesn’t beat around the bush, but neither do I.

“Yes. I’m staying as long as she’ll let me.” I look at Mrs. Walsh to find her studying my face.

“She’ll let you. Just don’t give up on her. She needs some time.”

“I hope she will. I know I fucked up. I never meant to hurt her,” I explain, needing one less person to hate me.

“I know. And so does she. I’m sure of it.” Mrs. Walsh smiles at me, her eyes full of compassion. But then she turns serious and I dread the next question. “Why did you leave?”

Contemplating how to answer, I clear my throat. “Some shit went down in my life. I didn’t know how to deal with it, and I had to figure things out. I was fucking miserable and I didn’t want to drag Frankie down with me. I would have been toxic for her. Leaving was the best thing I could do for everyone, although she might not see it that way.”

Mrs. Walsh just nods, encouraging me to go on and so I do.

“I didn’t stop thinking about her. She was always on my mind. That’s why I came back—for her.”

“Good answer. It’ll all work out. You’ll see. I’m old enough to know that a storm never lasts. Sooner or later the sun peeks out again between the clouds. You just need to hang in there.” Mrs. Walsh stands up and walks to the kitchen. “Why don’t you put Archer down for his nap and I’ll make us some lunch?”

Once Archer is asleep and we’ve eaten, I notice the Xbox in the living room and decide a round of
Gears of War
might be just the thing I need. It doesn’t take much convincing for Mrs. Walsh to join me. She quickly gets the hang of the game and saves my ass multiple times. And it doesn’t take her long to be able to chat while playing.

“So what were you doing while you were gone, other than being miserable?”

“Drinking too much and fixing up furniture, as well as houses.” I omit the fact that I was fixing up my own house, not wanting to wake any sleeping dogs.

“Hold on,” she says, pausing the game. “You can fix stuff?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I might have just the job for you then.”

Ten minutes later, I’m freezing my ass off on her porch, attempting to fix her swing, while she stayed behind to look after Archer. Thankfully it’s a quick fix once I know what I’m doing.

“Your swing is fixed,” I announce walking through the door, shrugging out of my jacket.

“Ben, if I wouldn’t worry about Frankie kicking my ass, I’d ask you to marry me.” She cackles, batting her eyelashes at me. “Instead, how about you fix my window tomorrow? It doesn’t open, hasn’t in years.”

Laughing, I take Archer out of his playpen, nuzzling his tummy.

“No problem,” I reply, then add, “And I have my doubts Frankie would give a damn.”

“Oh, you poor, deluded fool,” she says dramatically.

Our conversation is interrupted by Dean and Alex coming home.

“Hey, everyone,” Dean greets us. “Who is a fool?”

“Apparently me.” I mock glare at Mrs. Walsh.

“That’s not really any news to me,” Dean remarks, his voice serious, not laced by even a hint of amusement. I understand he’s mad on Frankie’s behalf. I get it. But I wish he would just say what he has to say so we’d stop dancing around each other.

“You got a problem with me?” I try to keep my voice even and relaxed. No need to let this get out of hand. I don’t think Frankie would appreciate me knocking Dean on his ass.

“Me? A problem with you? No, why would I?” he drawls with sarcasm dripping from every word. “Because you treated someone dear to my heart like shit? Because you broke her heart? Now, why would I have a problem with that?”

“Settle down, guys. This isn’t productive or helpful,” Alex chimes in with what I imagine is his lawyer voice.

He’s come around to stand next to us reaching out to take Archer in his arms. Reluctantly, I let go. Not because I don’t trust, or like Alex, but because jealousy rips through me seeing how comfortable and easy everyone is around Archer, while I question myself every few seconds.