That One Night (That One Series Book 1) (5 page)

Opening my eyes, I wasn’t sure where I was at first or how much time had passed. It was still dark outside, the only light in the room coming from the lamp on the side table. It took me a moment to look around and realize what had happened.

A blanket was draped over my naked body. I was alone on the couch in the living room and from what I could gather, in the house. I refused to think anything of it. Maybe he just had to go home.

That was until my gaze fell on a folded piece of paper on top of my discarded shirt. I grabbed it with a shaking hand, trying to fight the sinking feeling in my stomach. I unfolded it, allowing my eyes to take in what was written on the paper in his scrawly handwriting. I folded it back up again, grabbed my clothes and went upstairs to my room, locking the door behind me. Then I turned the shower on, sat on the floor, allowing the water to wash over me and to wash away the tears that were now falling freely.

“
Sorry”

That was all he had to say after last night; but sorry wouldn’t bring back that piece of my heart he now owned.

***

The door to my room opening slowly and carefully, brings me back into the present, yet the memory lingers in the back of my head. I wipe away the tears on my face. I’m angry at myself. Angry for feeling so hurt. I know I shouldn’t. I know it isn’t a big deal. But it is to me. It’s not about him not saying it back. It wasn’t the best way, and moment, to announce my feelings.

What hurts is the way he left me—without a word. No, that isn’t correct. There was one word. I don't know what he was apologizing for. Did he regret sleeping with me? Or was it the fact that he was leaving? Or did he apologize for breaking my heart? I don’t know what he apologized for and I’m not sure I care. What he did was make me feel like a slut. He couldn’t have hurt me more if he would have added a few dollar bills to his one word letter. The moment we shared didn’t mean shit to him, that much was clear. It was a way to help get his mind of whatever was bothering him that night and get him off. And once that mission was accomplished, he was gone. For me, this moment meant everything. It changed my world—in ways I didn’t even realize back then.

Quiet steps move towards me while I keep staring out the window. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“Frankie, we really need to talk,” he whispers, standing way too close to me. I can feel his breath stir my hair and it makes me even more emotional—sad and angry at the same time.

“Yeah, we do.” I wish my voice would hold more strength, more resolve. Instead, it’s quiet and soft.

“Is he mine? Is Archer my son?”

I hear the question and then just a ringing in my ears. I’m so angry I can feel my blood pressure rising and my blood rushing to my head. I wasn’t a nun before him and he couldn’t know what I did the week before that night, or the week after, but the question makes my blood boil. I had told him I loved him. Did he think I’d say that and jump in bed with someone else the next day? Is that what he did?

I’m furious, and the only way I know how to cope with it is to become cold and distant, allowing me to speak with as much venom in my voice as possible. “Despite the general consensus of me being a woman with loose morals, I can guarantee you, that he is indeed your son.”

“That’s...I mean...I didn’t.” He lets out a sigh and I want to punch him square in the face. “But how?”

“Do you want a fucking biology lesson?” I whisper angrily. He’s lucky that we are in my parents’ house and Archer is sleeping a few feet away from us, or I would be up in his face screaming like a woman gone mad. He makes me feel irrational and out of control. “We didn’t use a condom, I wasn’t on the pill.”

“Fuck Frankie. It was one night. I…I never thought…,” he seems at a loss, his voice breaking. I can tell looking at him that he’s overrun by a multitude of emotions. I couldn’t care less about his emotions at this point. This is not how I imagined him reacting to the news. My delusional mind had hoped he’d be shocked, but thrilled and excited. But I guess imagining is for dreamers. In real life, that only invites disappointment.

“Well, Ben,” I spit out, “neither your sperm nor my eggs seem to have gotten the memo that as long as it is just once, they should stay the fuck away from each other.”

He is silent for a long moment and I see so many emotions flitting across his face. Guilt, fear, pain, and maybe a hint of excitement, and happiness. But that might be my delusional mind working overtime again.

“What do we do now?” he asks, bringing my attention back from the emotions on his face to the current conversation.

I let out a breath, giving myself a moment before I speak. I’m not sure this helps take the edge out of what I tell him.

“Listen, I don’t have any expectations toward you. Not anymore. Even I learn from my mistakes.”

He flinches away from my words as if I physically slapped him. He’s hurting and I enjoy it. He has a few months of catching up to do.

“If you want to be a part of Archer’s life, I won’t stop you. He deserves to grow up with a father and you have a right to know your son, to be there for him. But you can rest assured, if you fucking desert him, if you pull a vanishing act again, I will find you and cut your balls off. And you will never see your son again. He deserves the world. If you are not willing, or capable of giving him that, walk away now. If you decide to stay in his life, you better be in it for the long haul.”

I didn’t notice myself getting louder, but I must have disturbed Archer in his sleep since he’s starting to fuss. I get up from my seat, side-step Ben, and walk up to Archer’s crib. Stroking away the fine dark hair from his face, I tell him that I love him and he falls right back asleep. When I get up, I notice Ben standing on the other side of the crib, looking at Archer.

“He’s so beautiful. And so tiny. I want to try it. I want to be there for him. I ...I want to try and be a good father. I...”

He stops talking and seems to be looking into the distance. I can tell something is haunting him. Something that took root that night all those months ago. But it’s not my business. Not anymore. Or maybe it never really was. All I need to do is make sure he doesn’t hurt Archer—that he doesn’t walk out on him whenever he feels like it. The way he has walked out on me.

“Don’t try. Be a good father. Like I said, there will be no second chances. I will not let you break his heart.” I don’t add “like you did with mine,” but from the look on his face that isn’t necessary.

“Frankie, listen, I...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...”

“Don’t. Just don’t, Ben.” I interrupt him, not wanting to rehash the night nearly two years ago.

“But I want to...”

I don’t let him finish. I can’t deal with an apology or explanation right now. It’s too much at once. Do I want to know where the hell he has been for nearly two years? Yes, of course I do. But more information, more words, and more emotions
—
they might just kill me right now, making my heart and head explode.

“Right now I really don’t care what you want. I don’t care why you left. I don’t care why you thought it’d be enough to leave me a one word note. I just don’t have it in me tonight. I don’t have it in me to care. Ok?” My voice is wobbly, my lips trembling.
Don’t you fucking dare start crying now.

No matter how much I fight it, I can’t help the guilt from snaking its way into my heart, especially when I see the frown on his face. Much to my own dislike, I relent.

“Listen, Ben. It’s all a bit much right now. I didn’t expect to see you here. I honestly didn’t know if I would ever see you again. Can we talk tomorrow? Please.”

He nods and looks between me and Archer. “Can I touch him?”

His insecurity, his hesitation weakens my resolve to be an evil bitch and I manage a little smile.

“Yeah, go ahead. He doesn’t bite...yet. Just be gentle so he doesn’t wake up.”

I watch him as he gently strokes his hand over Archer’s tiny hand that is balled up in a cute little fist while he sleeps. He hasn’t done it for months, but for some reason he grabs hold of Ben’s finger and holds on to it. This moment is so intense and emotionally raw, but beautiful at the same time, I’m not sure if it breaks my heart a bit more or puts back a little piece that was missing. I have to swallow the lump in my throat as I watch Ben wipe his eyes.

“Why don’t we go to the park tomorrow after breakfast? We can talk without anyone interrupting us and you can spend some time with him.”

I think Ben is too emotional to speak. Instead, he just nods his head, slowly freeing himself of Archer’s strong little grip.

He walks to the door, but before he closes it behind him, he stops. He doesn’t turn around, but I can hear him whisper. “I won’t hurt him, I promise. And I won’t hurt you again either.”

As the door closes behind him, I collapse on the bed. I feel like I have gone through ten rounds with Mike Tyson. And despite feeling emotionally drained and missing my home, it’s the first night in eighteen months I feel fully content—falling asleep with the knowledge that Archer will grow up with his father in his life.

It seems neither of us can sleep in the next morning, and even Archer seems to be awake earlier than usual.

After feeding him, I dress both of us warmly to protect us against the cold Michigan air. I grab my huge purse that could probably fit half a household in it, and with Archer in my arms, I walk down the stairs, hoping my family is still sleeping. I find Ben in the kitchen also ready to go.

“Shall we grab breakfast somewhere else?”

He seems unsure whether or not I will go along with his idea. But I want to get out of the house before everyone wakes up and we might have to explain why we’re suddenly feeling the need to spend time together—just the two of us. We have things to talk about, and I don’t want anyone interrupting that.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. If you grab the stroller from the porch and load it in my car, I’ll write a quick note to let them know we’re out.”

Nodding, he sets off towards the porch, while I grab a pen and paper from the drawer.

Ben and I have gone into town for breakfast. See you later.
I decide to write as little as possible. The more I explain, the more questions will arise.

I take a deep breath, cuddle Archer, and kiss him on the cheek, whispering into his tiny ear, “Let’s go meet your daddy.” He grabs at my knitted blue and green hat, trying to pull it down.

“Do you need help?” Ben asks when I meet him by the car and go to strap a very awake, and slightly hyper, Archer into his car seat. He seems to pick up on the nervous energy between Ben and me.

“No, I’ve got it,” I grumble under my breath. But feeling bad for not making more effort, I add, “But thanks.”

We are quiet on the drive to the park at the waterfront. It’s like we don’t know where to start; not knowing what will make this less awkward and less of a minefield. Before he left, back when we used to hang out together, it was constant chatter and banter between the two of us and Dave. Now, Ben is tapping his foot, looking out the window and occasionally glancing at me, while I might not have any fingernails left at the end of the ride.

At the park, we decide to go for a walk first. Archer’s a bit calmer in his stroller now, busy watching the wind in the trees, the waves out on the water, and the birds flying around. He definitely will be an outdoor person when he’s older.

“Can I?” Ben asks, pointing at the stroller.

“Sure.” I move aside, letting him grab the handles.

It’s weird; not that other people haven’t taken Archer on walks without me. Dean and Alex, as well as our other roommate, Viv, have done it plenty of times—so has Mrs. Walsh, our neighbor. But having Ben push the stroller and take over that task feels emotionally loaded. Sharing the responsibility for Archer, even in such a small way, means letting him into our lives, into my life. We walk on for a little while, again without talking, before I decide to break the silence.

“We wanted to talk so I suppose we should maybe, well, talk?”

Ben chuckles and I would be lying if I said that this sound doesn’t affect me. But I need to keep my head in the game and my heart and hormones locked away safely. In a fortress. With a water ditch around it. And preferably some barbed wire.

“Yeah, I guess we should start somewhere, huh?” He sighs, a shy smile appearing on his face. “I just wish it would be easier. Between us, you know.”

“Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we?” My words are dripping with sarcasm.

“Frankie…,” he trails off and I want to scream, punch, and kick him at the same time. I want him to talk to me. At the same time, I don’t want to have this conversation and instead pretend he doesn’t exist. Emotions suck.

“When’s his birthday?”

“February 20
th
. Just before midnight.”

“What’s he like? I mean, is he a happy baby?”

A smile tugs at my lips thinking about my sweet little guy. “Yeah, most of the time. He’s amazing. I know most moms would say that, but he really is. He isn’t fussy and usually smiles and laughs a lot. It’s impossible to resist his charm.”

“And do you have everything you need? Does he?”

“Yeah, we’re both fine. We have all we need back in Northampton. Between my friends and roommates, Archer is growing up around people that love him to pieces.”

He nods absently, his gaze straight ahead and he seems to be mulling over his next words.

“I really want to be there for you and Archer. I don’t know how good I am at that.”

“Well, neither did I. It’s not something you can really prepare for. It’s not always easy. Unfortunately, they don’t come with an instruction manual.”

“What if I fail at this? I doubt I’m good enough to be in his life, or in yours,” his voice breaks and it takes him a few seconds before he continues, “I wasn’t there when either of you needed me. I guess I couldn’t blame you if you hated me.” It seems like he wants to say more, but he just swallows heavily and looks into the distance.

“Being a parent takes some adjusting and learning. You don’t just wake up one morning and know what you’re doing. It’s a lot of trial and error—and learning from mistakes. It’s something you grow into.” I pause, collecting my thoughts before addressing the rest of what he said.

“But being a good parent means that whatever problems are between us can’t affect Archer. It’s not his fault, and he shouldn’t be the one to pay the price for our issues.” I need to make it clear to Ben that Archer is the number-one priority. It’s not about us.

We’re quiet again and I get the feeling that this conversation is going to be a lot of stop and go.

“You’re right. I would understand if you never wanted to see me again, and I’m thankful you aren’t keeping me from Archer.” He runs one hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to relieve a headache, before he turns his head toward me. “This...fuck...it’s a lot to take in. I didn’t know what to expect when I came here to see you again, but having a son...hell...definitely didn’t expect that.”

Before I can stop myself and allow the filter between my brain and my mouth to kick in, some of the emotions I’ve kept bottled up for months fight their way to the surface. Even him saying that he came back to see me doesn’t prevent the words from tumbling out.

“Well, you know...if you would have called, or written, or sent some smoke signals in the eighteen months you were gone, you might have found out earlier. Even better, if you wouldn’t have just taken off without a word.” I pause for a second, trying to calm my pounding heart and quivering voice, before adding, “Oh no, wait. There was one damn word. One word I would love to shove up your ass until you choke on it.”

I’m surprised by my own emotional outbreak. I had planned to handle things a bit more level-headed, not get so off balance. I suppose that didn’t work as well as I had planned.
Yeah, this is not awkward at all.

He looks stunned for a moment before he lets out a long sigh.

“I fucked up and I’m sorry, Frankie. I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have slept with you that night...”

I feel like someone knocked the air out of my lungs. No matter how much I was hurting that he left, I didn’t regret that night. Not only because Archer is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, but because I felt like I had found a missing piece of my soul. Tears start stinging my eyes and I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment to keep them from falling. I can feel myself going into my unreasonable, emotional mode, but I’m unwilling to stop it.

“Fuck you, Ben. Seriously, go fuck yourself. You think sleeping with me was a mistake? Then why don’t you get lost again. Because let me tell you
—
no matter how shitty I felt thinking about how it ended, I never thought of it as a mistake. Not for one moment. And what you refer to as a mistake has produced this beautiful little boy.” I’m now full-on yelling, while pointing at Archer. “And if you for just one second think of him or refer to him as a mistake, I promise you, this will be the last time you see either of us ever again.” I take a step back, panting from my outburst. Ben has stopped walking and is staring at me, one hand resting on the stroller, the other resting on his neck. He looks like he’s about to say something, but my yelling must have scared Archer, because he starts fussing, stretching out his tiny little arms towards me and cries “Mama.”

I bend down to take him out of the stroller and snuggle him up in my arms.

“I’m sorry, Archer. Momma didn’t mean to yell and scare you. All is good now, little man. Momma was just upset.” He appears reassured by the hug and the soothing words, and a couple minutes later he isn’t interested in snuggling, but more in the surrounding area, so I put him back in the stroller and let him enjoy the view. When I straighten back up, I realize that Ben has been standing there just looking at me and Archer.

“Frankie, fuck, do you think this is easy for me? To find out I have a son?” His voice is strained and louder than before. “My whole world just turned upside down.” The way the muscles in his jaw tick, he must be clenching his teeth.

He tilts his head back and shakes it slightly, looking up to the sky and running his hand through his hair. I glare at him, too shaken to speak. My heart hurts and my head isn’t far behind.

He sighs heavily, before he starts talking in a calmer voice.

“I would never say he’s a mistake. He’s probably the only good thing I have or will ever accomplish in my life. Sleeping with you....I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you. I was dealing with some bullshit that night, and I should have never used you to help me forget about it all.” I level a questioning look at him, and he must be able to read it right. “It doesn’t mean that I didn’t want to sleep with you before that, or many times after that, but that night—I wish it wouldn’t have happened like that. I said it before—you and Archer deserve better.”

I ignore the little, happy pitter-patter my heart is doing because he said he wanted to sleep with me before and after it happened.
Stupid heart. He talked about sleeping with me, nothing about having feelings that go above and beyond sexual attraction.
That thought instantly helps to calm my heart down.

“Well, even if that would be the case
—
that ship has sailed, hasn’t it? You are his dad. You just have to be as good as you can be. There’s no point in questioning yourself.”

“Easier said than done. You don’t really know me.”

“Bullshit, Ben. I’ve known you all my life
—
minus the last 18 months.” I pause, wondering if I should ask, but then decide with everything considered, I do have a right to know.

“Ben?” He looks up at me as we arrive at a swing-set. While I take Archer out of the stroller and set him into a baby swing, I look over to Ben and see his eyebrows are knitted together, like he knows what question is coming.

“Why did you leave that night? And where have you been for the past eighteen months?”

He runs a hand hard over his face, like he’s trying to wipe away a memory.

“I left, because I was fucked up, Frankie. I wasn’t anyone you should have been around. I had to deal with some shit I didn’t want to deal with. It was dragging me down and I wasn’t going to drag you with me. I left, because there was no way in hell I would have been capable of dealing with all the emotions
—
your feelings, your family’s feelings, and most of all—my own feelings. I had to deal with the bullshit in my life and that is what I’ve been doing. I’m still not sure I have figured things out.” He gets distracted by Archer giggling on the swing as I give it gentle pushes.

“Can I?” he asks, pointing at Archer and the swing. Nodding, I step aside and watch him take my place. Archer gives him a puzzled look as if he wants to say, “Who is that man?”, but once Ben starts swinging him, his confusion is quickly forgotten.

“What truth? What bullshit are you talking about? I don’t know what could have caused you to lose your footing like that?” I really don’t understand and I want to. I want an explanation that will take away the feeling of him just wanting to leave, to get away from me. I want to know where he’s been, and as much as I fight against it, I want to know if he’s been with anyone. He’s back for not even a week and my head is completely screwed.

“There are things you don’t know. It doesn’t matter,” he shrugs dismissively, turning his attention back to Archer. 

"It matters to me. But I guess that still isn’t the thing that actually matters.” The rejection I felt the morning after he left still stings, and I’m mad at myself that I’m allowing it to hurt. I thought I was over it, and that I left those feelings of pain and humiliation behind.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Not now. It’s all so much to deal with—seeing you again, meeting Archer.”

“You think it’s just a lot for you? Really? I’m trying to figure out why you left, why you’re suddenly back and if that bullshit you’re talking about will have an effect on my son.”

“You mean our son, Frankie. Not just yours,” he spits out the words, clearly offended by what I said. “And I came back…”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence because Archer suddenly squeals, before giggling like a little maniac, clearly delighted and happy to be swinging.