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)
“Dayton—”
“If you want to put a label on it, we can,” he tells me, and I swallow thickly.
“Please, shut up.” I lean up on my tiptoes and press my mouth against his, and he doesn’t hesitate for even a moment to kiss me back.
I’m going to puke. I keep trying not to think about it, but the closer we get to my parents’ house, the harder it is to ignore the nausea, the way my hands feel clammy, and how lightheaded I am. I know it’s not from the doughnut I ate for breakfast, nor the decaf iced coffee Dayton brought me. It’s nerves—body-wracking nerves.
I thought I was ready for this. I convinced myself that it was time. But as we turn into my parents’ driveway, I know I lied to myself.
“I think you should turn around. I can call Mom and tell her something came up and that I’ll reschedule. She’ll probably be relieved.”
“I’m not turning around,” Dayton says, bringing my hand that is in his to his mouth and pressing a kiss to my fingers, which are ice cold. “We’re going to get this over with and deal with whatever happens after.”
“I’m going to throw up.” I squeeze my eyes closed.
“You’re not going to throw up.” I feel the car slow to a stop, and my heart pounds so hard I can hear the blood rushing into my ears. “Hey.” His warm fingers wrap around my lower jaw, and he turns my face toward him as I blink my eyes open. We’re not parked right in front of my parents’ house like I assumed. We’re stopped in the middle of their long driveway, still out of view. “Tell me the worst-case scenario.”
“What?”
“What’s the worst-case scenario in your mind of what will happen after you tell him?”
My throat starts to burn just thinking about it. “My dad says that he never wants to see me again, and I lose my family.”
“Do you think that is an actual possibility?”
“No,” I whisper, and he nods, sliding his fingers along my jaw.
“It’s going to be okay, Franny, and if it’s not, I’ll make sure that you’re okay until it is.”
And if it’s not, I’ll make sure that you’re okay until it is.
My chin wobbles. “Thank you.”
“We’re a team,” he says so adamantly I’d be stupid to question if he really means it.
“Yeah,” I agree.
I didn’t fully understand what he meant the first time he told me that we’re a team, but I’m starting to get it now. The things that are too heavy for me to carry? He’s the person I can pass them off to, and he’s the one I can lean on when I’m exhausted.
I can’t remember if I ever had that with Matthew or if our partnership was always one-sided. I do know that, in the end, we were just two people taking care of ourselves, when we should have been taking care of each other.
“Are you ready to get this over with?” he asks, and I run my teeth over my bottom lip, then nod. “That’s my girl.” He touches his mouth to mine once more, then lets me go.
I watch him put the engine back in drive and drag in a breath as we head toward my parents’. I’m still scared, but not as scared as I was a few minutes ago, because he’s right. My worst-case scenario is not going to happen. My dad would never turn his back on me, and if he tried, my mom and Jacob would never agree to that.
“Mom! Dad!” I call out, walking into my childhood home a few minutes later.
“In the kitchen!” Mom calls back, and I look up at Dayton as he takes my hand. Absorbing the strength I need from his touch, we walk toward the kitchen and step through the open door. Mom, who is at the counter and putting together a platter of bagels and what looks like smoked salmon, glances between Dayton and me. And then her eyes drop to our hands and widen.
“I fucking knew it.” Jacob, sitting on one of the stools, laughs.
“Watch your mouth,” Mom hisses at him, then looks over toward the opposite side of the kitchen when Dad steps out of the pantry, carrying a bottle of champagne.
“Found it.” He holds the bottle out toward Mom, then looks over at me when he realizes her attention is focused elsewhere. “Hey, sweetheart.” He smiles, then looks at Dayton and drops his gaze to our hands. “When did this happen?” he asks, looking between the two of us, his smile never faltering.
“Umm….” My heart pounds, and I start to feel lightheaded.
“This is going to be good. Mom, do you have any popcorn?” my brother asks while cackling.
“Shut up, Jacob.” Mom sighs.
“What am I missing?” Dad questions, looking over at Jacob and then Mom.