That One Day (That One #1.5) (19 page)

I wake up, feeling surprisingly energetic. The kiss with Frankie has lifted my spirits. And God knows it wasn’t the only thing that lifted.

Hopefully, nothing will ruin this mood today. Especially not anyone sitting me down for a talk, telling me how I fucked up leaving Frankie and how I had better watch myself. I know I deserve it; I know they all do it because they worry, but it makes me feel like complete shit. Most of the time, I don’t need anyone’s help to feel that way.

After Dean’s initial animosity, the talking to from Mrs. Walsh, and the heart-to-heart with Alex, last night it appeared to be Vince’s turn, the guy she visits at the old people’s home and who sold the house to her and the rest of the gang.

It’s hard for me to imagine Frankie the way they describe her—heart-broken, depressed, and an emotional mess. I can see I hurt her. I see it every time I look into her eyes, but the level of pain they are depicting is hard to believe. Or maybe I just don’t want to believe it because it would make me an even bigger asshole than I already am.

Trying not to dwell on it, I quickly jump in the shower, pull my clothes on, and check on Frankie and Archer, only to find their room empty. Heading toward the stairs, I hear music coming from the kitchen. Smiling, I make my way downstairs. Instead of walking straight into the kitchen, I stand on the last step and watch. Frankie is cooking breakfast, swinging her hips to “Panther Dance” by THePETEBOX. She’s unaware of me spying on her and other than Archer in the playpen, no one’s around.

She’s so fucking sexy—the way she moves. I can’t get enough of her rounder curves, the feminine softness of her body. I walk up to her quietly, making sure not to alert her to my presence. Only when I’m directly behind her, do I place my hands on her hips, drawing her closer.

She yelps. “Geez, are you trying to kill me?” She sounds out of breath, and I hope it isn’t just because of the scare I gave her.

“No, if I wanted to kill you I would ask you to run a mile with me.”

I don’t give her time to argue or to think, instead I press my body against hers, ignoring the hard-on I’m sporting, and start moving my hips until she finally moves with me. Her ass is pressed against me and visions of me fucking her against the kitchen counter run rampant in my head.

It’s evident she feels the same. Her body breaks out in goosebumps, her breathing accelerates. Unfortunately, the moment is cut short when the song ends. She doesn’t move away, but stands leaning against me, her breathing still erratic. There’s no way in hell I’m moving away just yet. Not when she actually lets me be this close.

“Just Let Me” by Season To Attack comes on and I remember the times Dave, Frankie, and I spent in my basement, or at the old drive-in theater, listening to the band’s songs.

“You’ve got good taste in music. Seems like hanging out with me and Dave for years rubbed off on you,” I tease, my lips so close to her neck I can almost taste the sweetness of her skin.

She ignores my comment and instead asks, “Are we going to stay like this?” Despite her question, she makes no move to get away.

“Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it as much as I do.”

She doesn’t answer and that’s answer enough for me. If Frankie wanted me to leave her alone, she would tell me in no uncertain terms. Instead, she’s quiet, still hesitant to trust me, but also not pushing me away. I consider this a win.

Just as the chorus comes on, I lean down, my lips touching her ear while I sing along with the sexy lyrics. Her breathing picks up again, coming in fast bursts and her chest is heaving. I love the effect I have on her. No matter how hard she tries to deny it, how often she tells me it’s over and done between us, her body betrays her every single time. I want to make the most of it, want to kiss and lick her neck. I want to show her how much I missed her, how fucking much she means to me.

But I don’t get to do any of it since Viv’s smoky voice interrupts; startling us from our own little world where it was just the two of us and our bodies on fire. “Umm…I don’t mean to interrupt your courtship rituals, but the mushrooms are burning.” Her smug grin tells me she enjoyed interrupting us very much. Like I give a damn if the mushrooms are burnt or not. The house could have been on fire and I wouldn’t have noticed.

“Sorry, not sorry. You’ll just have to eat your sandwich without fried mushrooms.”

The intimate moment only goes downhill from here when everyone else gathers in the kitchen and teases the hell out of the two of us. All it takes is for Dean to ask what’s going on to spur Viv on.

“Oh, those two nearly fucked in the kitchen. Ten minutes later and the house would have been on fire, along with her panties.” I haven’t seen her this amused since I got here. Between the mischievous smile and sparkle in her eyes, she looks like the Cheshire cat from
Alice in Wonderland
—down to the purple hair.

“I wish you guys would get it over with. The sexual and emotional tension is tangible. One of us is going to choke on it sooner or later,” Alex pipes up.

“Okay, can we stop talking about my panties or us fucking, please?” Frankie sounds horrified, her voice an octave higher than usual, her face burning red.

“Who’s fucking?” And that’s Mrs. Walsh walking through the door, only making matters worse. Or interesting. Frankie groans and is practically squirming. It’s adorable as hell.

“Those two were about to…in the kitchen. Where we prepare our food. And eat it,” Dean chimes in with amusement written all over his face. With everyone ganging up on us, Frankie gives up. “How about everyone bites me? And bites me hard.” Huffing and puffing she flips them the bird and disappears into the living room, focusing on Archer.

***

Skipping breakfast, I decide to hit the hardware store with Archer, allowing Frankie to have some time to study and relax, and so I can spend time with my son. I need some tools and materials for the jobs Mrs. Walsh has lined up. It’s the first time I’m in town with Archer by myself, with no one around to keep an eye on me or help me out. It makes me nervous, but at the same time it feels good to step up to the challenge and take care of him by myself.

With Archer in the seat of the shopping cart, I enter the store, reveling in the smell of wood, steel, and paint.

“So much better than smelling like Aunt Betty, isn’t it?” I ask Archer, referring to the weird essential oils Frankie rubbed on him to ease his teething aches. He doesn’t pay me any attention, his gaze flicking around, taking in the new surroundings with big eyes.

We move from aisle to aisle, grabbing all the stuff I need, and I explain all the tools to Archer.

With the cart nearly full, I stop at the wallpapers to find the one Viv has chosen for her room. That’s when I notice two girls standing in front of the paint swatches. I’m not sure how long they have been watching Archer and me, but there’s no mistaking that they are checking me out. They aren’t even trying to hide it.

If I’d have to guess, I’d say they are freshmen in college. They are both pretty, both blond, and dressed to the nines. But it’s the taller one who seems to have her sights set on me. She’s tilting her head and smiling in my direction. I smile back, though it’s more out of politeness than anything else.

I’m about to turn back to Archer and the search for that damn purple wallpaper when she calls out, “Hey, you look like you know what you’re doing.” She gives me a flirty smile before continuing. “Do you think you could help us here?”

“Sure. What’s the problem?” Not wanting to give them any ideas, I stay rooted to my spot.

“You know, you can come closer. We don’t bite,” her friend says. “Unless you’d want us to.” They both giggle and I try hard not to roll my eyes.

Great, looks like two sorority girls on the prowl. I push my cart over to the paint aisle, stopping in front of them.

“I’m Emma,” the tall one says, then points to her friend. “And this is Nikki.”

“Ben, and this is Archer,” I reply, grabbing Archer’s little hand. “So what’s the problem?”

Apparently, all the paint questions are forgotten. “So is this, like, your son?
”
Emma asks.

Now I actually roll my eyes, both at the way she phrased her question and at the question itself. To think I used to hang out with chicks like Emma and Nikki makes me cringe.

“Yeah, this is, like, my son,” I reply sarcastically, but the sarcasm seems lost on those two. I wonder briefly if they come to the hardware store to pick up men. Turns out my theory isn’t so far off when I hear the next question.

“So, I’m trying to pick out a color for my bedroom. You know, something sexy and hot.” She licks her lips. “What color would you want to see in my bedroom?”

I chuckle, wondering if she’s serious. This was probably the worst pick up line I’ve ever heard, but when I look away from Archer, who is still holding on to my hand and trying to bend my fingers in different directions, I see her batting her eyelashes and giving me bedroom eyes.

“Well, when I’m with my girlfriend, I really don’t pay attention to the color of her bedroom walls. So, if you’re worried about that, you must be doing something wrong.”

The girls’ jaws nearly hit the floor—their faces frozen in a mask of embarrassment and anger they fail to cover up.

So what if I lied, referring to Frankie as my girlfriend. Truth is, whenever she’s around I couldn’t care less what color the walls are or if there are walls at all. I’m sure as fuck not going to flirt with these two chicks. I have no interest in them. I want to win Frankie back, convince her I’m in this with her for the long haul. Flirting with other girls won’t really help me achieve this. Besides, I’ve got my son with me. Why would any woman on this planet think I would focus on her instead of on my own kid?

I don’t give them time to reply, instead I push the cart back to the wallpaper, happy when I finally find the purple on black one with the Victorian style pattern Viv wanted.

Later, on my way through town, I notice a baby store. Glancing at Archer, I see him chewing on his hand again. He’s been doing it on and off all day. Frankie explained to me it’s because he’s teething. On a whim, I pull into the parking lot of the store, and with Archer in my arms, I make my way inside.

The door hasn’t fully closed behind me when a middle-aged woman approaches me.

“How can I help you and this little cutie?” she asks while tickling Archer’s tummy. He giggles, happy with the attention.

“He’s teething and seems really uncomfortable. Do you have something that would help?”

She gives me a big, warm smile. “There are many things that can be used to help alleviate the symptoms of teething. Let me show you.”

“Great, thanks. But…um…it has to be an eco-friendly, healthy product,” I say, thinking of Frankie and her hippie ways.

“Oh, don’t worry. That’s basically all we have. Everything we sell here is eco-friendly and free of any harmful chemicals. The safety of little ones is really important to us.”

I’m not sure how I’ve done it, but apparently I found the perfect baby store. I follow the lady through an array of baby clothes, strollers, and things I can’t even define, while she explains to me all the options available. Suddenly, I feel even more like a dad. I don’t just do what Frankie or Mrs. Walsh tell me, but I’m actually about to make a decision regarding my son’s well-being.

It’s equal parts frightening and exhilarating. I don’t want to make the wrong choice, but it’s great to step up to the task of being Archer’s father without any assistance.

An hour later, I finally make my way out of the store with all the stuff I bought. Archer is happily chewing on his new teething ring. He’s really going to town on it—I guess we’ll be shopping here again soon to get replacements.

Being in the baby store was eye-opening. I didn’t know half the stuff they sell even existed. Teething jewelry—who would have thought that’s a thing? But, apparently it is. I got a green pendant for Frankie and grey dog-tag imitations for myself. This way Archer will always have something to chew on when we’re holding him.

I just finished strapping Archer into his seat, giving him a kiss before closing the door, when my phone rings. Seeing the number on the display, dread washes over me.

“Hello,” I pick up at the third ring.

“Ben?” My dad’s voice sounds hoarse and wobbly.

“Dad? Everything okay?” I run a hand through my hair, trying to calm my nerves.

“Yes, everything’s okay. I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

Fuck, I just now remember I didn’t try calling him again after the evening when I hung up on him.

“Sorry, Dad. It’s a bit crazy here. I’m still trying to find my footing. I didn’t mean to make you wait so long.”

“I’m glad you’re okay, Son.” He sighs. “Why did you hang up so suddenly the other day?”

How do I even answer that?
Well, Dad, Frankie doesn’t know you exist, and I don’t want to tell her because I worry she might kick me out and never want to see me again or keep me from Archer, once she finds out you’re crazy. Especially once she realizes I might be, too. So I’m hiding you like a dirty, little secret.

Yeah, that wouldn’t go down so well.