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)
CHAPTER 6
Francisca
Hearing someone knock on my door inside the building—not the one that leads out onto the street—I glance over my shoulder as PJ runs across the room to hide in his kennel.
“Coming!” I call out, resting my paintbrush on the table where I keep my supplies before making my way across the room. It hasn’t happened often, but occasionally, someone in the building will receive my mail in their box, or I’ll end up with theirs, and we’ll drop it off to each other in person because there’s no way to put it in the right mail slot without a key.
Without checking the peephole, I swing the door open and feel my heart squeeze tight at the sight that greets me. After our conversation earlier, I convinced myself that I would never see Dayton again, and it wasn’t a far-fetched assumption. I never bumped into him the months prior to the first time we met the night of my parents' party, and I hadn’t seen him since until I sought him out this afternoon. And with me planning on moving in a few months, putting even more distance between us, I was sure that would be the case going forward.
“Dayton, what are you doing here?” I ask softly, taking him in. Since talking to him earlier, he’s lost his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and judging by the messy wave of his hair, he’s ran his fingers through it a few dozen times.
“Can I come in?”
“I….” I know I should say no, especially when I catch a whiff of the alcohol he’s been drinking, but there’s a little voice in the back of my head telling me not to turn him away. “Yeah, okay.” I step back to let him in.
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask, shutting the door.
“Not much,” he lies, swaying on his feet.
“It looks like it.” I walk into the kitchen and get down a glass. After pouring some water for him, I add a packet of electrolytes and carry it over to where he’s standing. “Drink this. It might not help you right now, but at least you won’t feel like you’ve been hit by a semi in the morning.”
“Thanks,” he mumbles, taking the glass.
Wrapping my arms around my middle, I watch him drink it, then take the glass back when he’s finished. “So why are you here?” I ask, walking to the kitchen to place the glass on the counter.
“I don’t know,” he says quietly, and I turn to face him. “I just needed to see you.”
“Why?”
“Because you showed up at my office today, telling me that you think you’re pregnant.”
“I don’t think I’m pregnant. I went to the doctor yesterday, and they confirmed that I hadn’t taken a dozen faulty tests,” I reply, and he laughs softly, which eases some of the tension in my muscles.
“How far along are you?”
“Ten weeks.” I wander across the room to the painting I was working on so I can put the brush I had been using in the cleaning solution before it dries out.
“And you think I’m the dad?”
“Dayton,” I whisper, my throat getting tight. I’m not angry at him for asking that question, and if I were him, I would be asking the same thing. We don’t know each other. As far as he knows, I could be having wall-sex with random men on a regular basis.
“Tell me,” he urges, and I look over at him as I stop in front of my workstation.
“What I think is that you took a very drastic step in making sure that you would never become a father, and I would never force you to take on that responsibility.”
“So, I’m the dad?”
“Unless I’m the first human female in modern history to get pregnant from immaculate conception, yes.” My gaze wanders over him. “I don’t expect you to believe me, and I get why you wouldn’t. I’ll take whatever test I need to in order to prove I’m not lying if that’s what you want.”
“That’s the thing, Franny—I do believe you, and it’s fucking with my head.”
“I get that too. I…”
“You what?” he asks when I can’t find the words to say.
“Nothing.”
“Franny.”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “You’re not the only one caught off guard by this. I thought I would have time to figure out my life, but now I’m trying to pivot and figure out what I’m going to do with a baby.” I fall onto the stool in front of my easel. “It’s been a lot, so I know this news is a lot for you too.” Honestly, none of this even feels real.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I laugh. “Knocking me up?”
“I guess.” He chuckles, running his fingers through his hair. “Shit, I can’t believe we can laugh about this right now.”
“Believe me—there have been more than a few tears shed since I found out. There were also a couple of weeks of denial and a few other emotions. But…” I let out a long breath. “I’m coming to terms with it and have to believe that everything will be okay.”