That One Night (That One Series Book 1) (19 page)

“Whoa. This was...wow,” he admits sheepishly, a bit of the former hurt washed from his features. “I’m sorry, babe—for hurting you.”

Cradling my face in his hands, he kisses me gently and I feel like I’m melting. All my fears, all my reservations, the wall around my heart dissolving into a puddle at my feet. This makes me want to just throw caution to the wind and jump in with both feet. But it’s not just me I have to think about. I need to take Archer into account as well.

“I think we should take this slowly—for now at least,” I say, biting my lip, waiting for him to reply.

He cocks his head slightly, giving me a lopsided smirk.

“Not if you keep that up, we ain’t.” He proceeds to free my lip from between my teeth with his fingers, letting his hand slide down my neck and looping around it, pulling me close to him. I nuzzle his neck, inhaling his scent.

“You sniffing me again?” he jokes and I can feel the rumble in his chest, while he’s trying not to laugh.

“Problems with that?” I make a point of drawing in another deep breath.

“Not at all, you little weirdo.”

We stay like this for another moment, before I open the driver’s side door and crawl off his lap. He gets out with me, grabbing my waist and pulling me into another hug.

“Thank you, Frankie. For understanding and not judging my dad or me.”

I pull away and stand up on my toes, kissing his stubbly jaw.

“You’re welcome.”

We drive home in separate cars since we never made it off the parking lot. I hate leaving him, but at the same time I believe it will do us good to get a moment to ourselves. I’m at the house before him, and I decide to bite the bullet and get the lecture from my friends over with. And they definitely aren’t amused about my dramatic exit and my refusal to answer the phone. But once Ben comes in and pulls me close to him, his hand resting on my hipbone, everyone seems suddenly pacified.

When he comes in my room to put Archer to bed, he brings a little box with him.

“What’s that?” I ask, watching him sit down on the floor across from Archer.

“It’s something my dad made for Archer. I didn’t give it to him before, but now, if it’s okay…,” he trails off, looking at me apprehensively.

“Of course, Ben. He’s your dad; Archer’s grandfather.”

I sit down beside him and watch Archer tearing off the paper with Ben’s help, revealing a wooden duck pull toy with a brightly painted beak. Archer’s name is carved into the wood.

“Wow, this is beautiful, Ben.”

He smiles, proudly placing the toy in Archer’s tiny hands.

“He made it in one of his occupational therapy sessions.”

We watch Archer drool on the toy, clearly not caring about the craftsmanship of his grandfather.

When we say goodnight once Archer is snoring happily, it’s with a soft caress, our lips barely touching with the kind of kiss you would expect on a first date. It’s like a promise made without the need for words—a promise that there is more to come, that this is just the beginning.

***

The next couple days go by in a rush. I drop Dean and Alex off at the airport on my way to classes, hating that they won’t be here for Christmas. When I hug them goodbye, Dean holds me close for a little longer.

“Be good. No more drama and running away,” he chastises me like a father would, but I can detect the hint of grin in his voice.

Alex is a bit more straightforward. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Oy,” Dean huffs in an exasperated tone.

“Yeah, I know. That leaves me so many choices. Shower, floor, couch...oh, and let’s not forget the kitchen counter,” I chuckle, referring to the time I caught them in the kitchen, when they thought I was at a party all night. It’s a sensitive topic and I tend to take every opportunity to rub it in.

All I get is a middle finger from Dean and an amused laugh from Alex, before they disappear through the security gate.

The rest of the day passes quickly and so does Friday. I’m busy with classes and work, while Ben has his own projects. Viv is usually there in the evenings and we all spend time together.

Ben and I suddenly behave like teenagers getting to know each other for the first time. We kiss, we grope, but all in all it seems we are shier around each other than before, probably knowing that if we take the next step there will be no holding back. We play with Archer, put him to bed together, and later say goodnight with a kiss full of passion and desire. But nothing more comes of it—after all, we decided to take it slowly. I wonder how hard of a time he has with it. I know I do.

We haven’t spoken much about his dad, both of us needing some time to digest the events. I’d love to call his mother and find out more, ask her questions to get a full picture, but I’d be betraying his trust, and it’s not something I want to do. I guess I need to allow things to just play out however they may.             

Saturday morning rolls around and after a shopping trip for Christmas food with Viv, Ben and I take Archer outside. It started to snow last night, and it’s Archer’s first time in the snow. Bundled up from head to toe, he looks a bit like the Kool-Aid man.

When we walk out onto the porch, big snowflakes are falling, swirling all around us. The air is crisp and fresh. The ground is covered with snow; it’s an astonishing sight. Once we walk down the steps of the porch, Archer’s eyes get wide, the snowflakes falling onto his cute little face, melting on impact. He starts blinking his eyes and seems undecided if he likes it or not, scrunching up his tiny nose.

“What’s that, little man? Is it snow?” Ben nuzzles Archer’s head, holding him close. I take out my phone to take a picture, when Archer suddenly pokes out his tongue slightly, opening his mouth in order to catch a snowflake. Whenever one ends up in his mouth, he pulls a funny face and giggles. Ben and I make eye contact for a moment, both of us laughing along.

Setting Archer on his feet, Ben holds on to his arms, letting him take a few steps in the six inches of snow. The first steps are an awkward little waddle, the surprise about the ground giving in to his tiny feet visible on his face. But then the fascination takes over. Wiggling onto his knees until Ben lets go of his arms, he starts crawling around the snow, making excited noises that remind me of a little piglet with breathing problems. Forgotten is the teething ache from this morning or the fact that I tried to put an ointment on his face to protect his skin from the cold. He cried like a little banshee and I can’t even blame him. I hated that too as a kid, to the point that I would cry as soon as my mother dressed me to go outside in the winter.

Now, he’s making his way through the snow, occasionally sitting back on his butt and bouncing up and down, giggling like he’s possessed. It’s the most adorable thing to witness. I film with the camera on my phone, until I’m interrupted by a snow ball hitting me on the side of the head.

“What the hell?” I look at Ben to find him turning his attention back to Archer, trying to look innocent, but I catch a glimpse of the corner of his mouth lifting.
Cheeky fucker.

I put the phone away, and when Ben isn’t looking, I run at him, catching him off guard and tackling him to the ground. Archer notices the commotion, and seeing his daddy on the ground crawls over, starting to throw fistfuls of snow onto Ben’s face. I’m laughing so hard, I can’t even stand up and so is Ben, although he attempts to look mad.

He tries to give me a stern look. “Payback is a bitch, babe.”

“You don’t scare me,” I choke out between laughs. At this point it seems Archer is trying to turn him into a snowman, undeterred, shoveling snow on top of him. Ben breaks his eye contact with me, turning towards the little troublemaker.

“And what do you think you’re doing, huh?” He laughs, rolling Archer to his back and tickling him. “You think you can make a snowman out of daddy?”

Archer hiccups from the laughter that is shaking his little body. I just stare at them with a soft smile. I could look at them for hours. Archer seems to dissipate Ben’s worries, the pain he’s been carrying around for months. He simply enjoys the moment with his son.

Suddenly a voice startles us. “I’ll go and make you guys some hot cocoa and tea. It’s freezing.” Mrs. Walsh strolls past us and into the house.

I get up, my ass completely drenched from the snow, and move to help Ben get back up as well. When I reach out my hand, instead of pulling himself up, he pulls me down to him. Archer seems to consider this as an invitation to now throw snow at the two of us, having the time of his life.

“Thank you for our son, Frankie,” he breathes into my ear and I feel a shiver run down my spine, definitely not caused by the low temperatures.

“Well, wasn’t just me, you know.”

I don’t get to say anything else, as his lips move towards mine, his kiss rough and demanding. For a short moment, I’m in a trance, relishing in the kiss he’s giving  me—and that’s the exact moment I feel something cold and wet going down my back.

“You jerk,” I screech, getting up and trying to shake the snow out of my clothes, but with little success as it’s already melting.

“Told you payback’s a bitch,” he remarks matter-of-factly, before getting to his feet and taking Archer with him while ignoring my pout. Archer complains with a whine, apparently in love with the snow.

“We can go back out tomorrow again, Archer. It’s too cold to stay out longer,” I coo to Archer, having caught up with them. Yeah, I know my logic might be lost on him right now.

We change and warm up with a cup of tea for me and cocoa for Ben, Viv, and Mrs. Walsh. We spend the whole afternoon together, chatting, watching TV and playing with Archer.

While the others prepare dinner, I decide to take a time-out and stretch my muscles again. It’s been weeks since I’ve done some yoga. The last time was before I left for Thanksgiving, and I’ve been missing the workout.

I’m in a downward facing dog position, when Ben walks into the sunroom.

“Jesus. We’re still taking it slow, right?” He grinds out the words. I open my eyes and peek through my legs at him, just in time to see him adjust himself.

With a smile I turn my head again and ask innocently. “Yes, we are. Why’s that?”

“Babe, if you stay in this position much longer, I’m not making any promises. And it’s really not a show I want to give Viv and Mrs. Walsh.”

Laughing, I sit back down on my heels and turn so I’m facing him. “I guess this concludes my yoga session for tonight, huh?”

“Yep, pretty much. I know we should take it slow, but damn, it’s hard.”

I look up at him, containing the laugh that’s trying to bubble up.

“Taking it slow apparently isn’t the only thing that is hard.” I let my eyes wander down to his crotch and then back up to his face, raising my eyebrows.

“You…” Before he can finish whatever he was going to say, Mrs. Walsh loudly yells “dinner,” rounding the corner to the sunroom.

“We’re coming, Mrs. Walsh. Aren’t we, Ben?” I mercilessly tease him, the air around us crackling and popping with sexual tension.

I follow Mrs. Walsh out of the sunroom, making sure I walk past Ben closely. Really close. My hand brushes his thigh as I pass, the sound of his growl following me to the table.

Dinner is cut short, at least for Viv, when she’s called to deliver a baby. So after we’re finished, Mrs. Walsh leaves too, mumbling something about watching
Sons of Anarchy
, which leaves just Ben, Archer, and me. While Ben brings Archer to bed, I clean up after dinner, lost in my own thoughts. I startle when I suddenly hear Ben behind me.

“What do you say, babe? Want a horror movie night. We could start with
Halloween
, an oldie but still a classic. And follow it up with
Mama
.”

I know I’ll come to regret it. I love horror movies and the thrill they offer, only to then end up lying in bed listening for strange sounds and biting my nails, seeing evil lurking in every corner of the room. Ignoring the voice of reason, I turn to him with a grin.

“Yep, why not? You get the movies. I get the chips.” I sidestep him, making my way to the pantry. When I get back to the living room the lights are off and he’s already on the couch, baby monitor beside him.

“You ready for the freak out, babe?” He looks way too smug for his own good, making me glower at him in response. He knows full well horror movies scare the crap out of me, but I’m too stubborn to admit it.

“Bite me, Ben,” I say, walking to the couch.

“I just might,” he answers, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

Plopping down on the couch, I set the bowl with chips between us, suddenly feeling really awkward. Should I sit closer to him? Snuggle up to him? Or sit at the other end of the couch? Jesus, one might think he’s the first guy I’m alone with, not the father of my child.

His eyebrows knit together. “Why don’t you sit on the porch?” He moves the bowl to his lap, patting the place next to him. I scoot over, slightly embarrassed about my awkwardness.

“We might be taking it slow, but that doesn’t mean we have to go into reverse.” Ben pulls me to him and kisses the top of my head lightly, my head now resting on his shoulder, his arm around me. I feel like a million butterflies have taken residence in my stomach. It’s hard to recall how often I have fantasized about this moment since I’ve known him—even after he left.

I snuggle closer, resting my hand on his chest and judging by the sharp inhale, he is affected by our closeness as well. It takes a few moments for us to settle and to get comfortable, and to stop being hyper-aware of every movement and breath the other takes.

The movie night is as I predicted, with me enjoying the scare, but nearly peeing my pants walking through the darkness to the kitchen, grabbing us some more chips. On the way back, I sneak by the door, making sure it’s locked.

“What did you just do, Frankie?” Ben mumbles from the couch, without turning around. But I can hear the amusement lacing his voice.

“I got us chips,” I try to feign innocence, but without much success.

“Did you just lock the door?” At this point he can barely hold in his laughter.

“Maybe. What of it?” Sulking, I sink back down on the couch and into his arms.

“Do you want to watch something else, instead? Something that doesn’t scare you?”

I lightly slap his thigh. “Pfft, I’m not scared. Hit play, please.”
Oh, I’ll have to pay for this.

It doesn’t get any better during the rest of the movie, and when watching
Mama
, I frequently squeak like a little girl. Why do they always have to have kids in horror movies? That’s the freakiest thing. In comparison, I’d have no issues coming across Michael Myers, but send a kid with a weird voice and freaky eyes my way and I’m a sobbing wreck in the corner.

By the time the movie finishes, it’s late. Viv has texted us that she won’t be home for a while, so we take our time in the hallway saying goodnight. His hands are on either side of my face, my body pressed against the wall, his flush against mine. My fingers are clawing at his back, while his tongue tangles with mine, our breath mingling. His mouth is gentle one moment, rough the next, his stubble rubbing my jaw.

We’re both turned on by this little make out session, my nipples hard, my panties wet, while his erection is pressing into me through his jeans. I slowly grind my hips, needing the friction. When he bites my lower lip, a raspy moan escapes my throat. He groans, sending more waves of pleasure through me. Just as I’m about to throw caution to the wind and fuck him right here in the hallway, he takes a step back and adjusts himself, making my eyes follow the motion. Instinctively, I lick my lips.

“We’re taking it slow,” he rasps, his voice hoarse with lust. “We’re taking it slow. For Archer. For us.” I hope he’s better at convincing himself than me, because I still want to pounce on him, even though I know he’s right. He kisses my forehead before he turns around and disappears into his room, leaving me hot and bothered.

That feeling quickly fades once I’m in my room and in bed. Instead of fantasies of Ben naked, scenes from the movie play in my head, every noise making me open my eyes and look around nervously. I even eye Archer suspiciously while he sleeps in his crib. If he says “mama” now, I might run from the room screaming. Inwardly, I chide myself for being this stupid—watching a horror movie in the first place and then being affected by it. That doesn’t stop me from freaking out though.

Twenty minutes later, I hear the door open. My heart nearly stops for a second, before I hear Ben whisper, “Babe, it’s just me. Don’t scream.”

He knows me too well. I notice he’s carrying his blanket and pillow, throwing them onto the floor next to my bed.

“Ben, what exactly are you doing?”

“Didn’t want you to spend all night looking for something lurking in the shadows, listening to any noise in the house, you little chicken shit.” My heart warms and does this weird pitter patter thing, making me grin like a Cheshire cat. It’s the same feeling I always used to get around him when we were younger and he was nice to me for once and not a jerk. Trying to at least pretend to be cool, I grumble at him.

“And what exactly are you doing on the floor?”

“Well, we’re taking it slow, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but that still means you can lay down in my bed next to me.”

I scoot over so he has room to lie down beside me. We’re lying so close that our arms are touching. I enjoy the closeness, and the sweet gesture of him coming into my room. I’m lost in the moment, that’s why I startle, when he suddenly asks a question.

“Have you dated anyone since that night?” His voice betrays his cool demeanor.

I turn toward him, lifting myself up slightly. He takes the opportunity to put his arm around me, pulling me closer. My hand rests on his chest, while I try to see his face in the dark.

“I wouldn’t say that. I went out with two guys, but I wouldn’t call it
dating
them.” I pause but he says nothing, waiting for me to continue.

“The first two months after you left, I wasn’t really the most social person. I was busy licking my wounds, hating and missing you at the same time.”

He hugs me closer, swallowing loudly.

“And then I was too shocked after finding out I was pregnant. So until I was six months along, I didn’t even consider a date. Then I went out with this one guy. He asked me out after class one day and we met up for dinner.” I roll my eyes remembering that night, again feeling the urge to bathe in acid.

“Why are you shuddering?” I didn’t even notice that I shuddered, but the memory has that particular effect.

“Because that guy was a total creep with a pregnant woman fetish.” I can’t suppress a giggle.

“Sorry, a what?” Ben sounds intrigued, amused, and slightly angry at the same time.

“A pregnant woman fetish. You know, being sexually attracted to pregnant women. We’re at this restaurant and he seems like a decent guy, talking about school, his family. Then he suddenly asks me if he can touch my belly. Odd, but nothing new....everyone felt the need to touch my belly when I was pregnant. I felt like Buddha, just that no one got lucky after rubbing my stomach.” I laugh again, shaking my head slightly at the memory. “So he puts his hand on my stomach and suddenly his breathing grows heavy and he groans ‘ooh, this feels good.’ Yeah, I asked for the check after that and ran like hell out of there.”

Ben is laughing along with me and I don’t blame him. It was definitely something else.

“The second guy was really nice, sweet, no weird fetishes, caring, and interested.”

“What happened?”

“I couldn’t do it. I was too hung up on you.” My cheeks heat, admitting how much he’s affected me.

He starts drawing lazy circles on my arm, while I rub my foot on his.

“What about you?” I hate how insecure I sound asking this question. There is a moment of silence and I steel my nerves for his answer, holding my breath.

“I won’t lie,” he says, and my heart stops for a second, worried about what’s he’s going to tell me next. “There were a few dates, some making out, but I didn’t fuck anyone. The first months I spent mostly drunk, feeling sorry for myself and hating my mom, wondering what the fuck to do and who I was.”

I don’t miss his voice becoming thick with emotion and I start to gently run my hand over his chest, trying to soothe him.

“Sex was not on the top of my list of priorities. Getting to know my dad kept me busy. But mostly, I felt like an asshole for what I’d done to you that night—how I left you. I thought it was for the best, but I was aware you might not see it that way. I couldn’t get you out of my head. I was hoping I’d come back at some point and maybe still have a chance with you. I didn’t want to fuck that up. I had already done enough of that, and I kept wondering if you could ever forgive me. I still do.”

I think about it for a moment. I think of the moments we shared in the past weeks, of the conversations I had with Dean on this, and about my own feelings. I finally allow my heart to answer, forcing my brain to shut up.

“Forgiving is much easier, knowing the reasons for you leaving the way you did. Knowing it wasn’t me. I wouldn’t worry that much about it if I were you.” I lean up, planting a kiss on his jaw.

He pulls me closer so my body is resting on his, our legs entwined. I want to tell him how I feel about him, but the memory of the last time I did stops me. I want, no, I need for him to say it first this time. So I keep my mouth shut, instead snuggling into him.

“I talked to my dad last night. He’d like us to come and visit some time, so he can meet you and Archer.” Ben still sounds unsure whenever he mentions his father.

I reach up to his face, gently running my hand over his jaw and mumble sleepily, “Sounds like a plan.”

We drift off to sleep like this, staying close to each other throughout the night. It’s the best night’s sleep I’ve gotten in a long time. I have everything I could ever want. Ben and Archer—the three of us finally together.

Speaking of the little devil, he wakes us up at dawn with an angry cry. I shuffle out of bed, telling Ben to just stay where he is while I change Archer’s diaper. Still on the changing table, he dozes back off, allowing me to crawl back into bed and into Ben’s arms.

“Crisis averted,” I chime, while assuming my former position.

“He’s amazing, isn’t he? And we made him.” Ben’s voice is full of wonder.

“Yeah, he’s a little miracle.”

Ben seems to hesitate for a moment before he asks, “Did you consider ever not having him?”

His question surprises me, and I’m unsure what to tell him, scared of what he might think, or how he might react.

It’s barely a whisper, when I answer. “Yes.”

Now it’s his turn to be quiet, taking in my reply. I don’t blame him.

But when he speaks again, his voice is soft and tender, not a trace of blame or accusation in it.

“What stopped you?”

Trying to find the right words, I take a deep, shaky breath. I haven’t talked to anyone about this. Not Dean, not Viv, or Alex, and definitely not my parents.

“I considered it. I....it was a back and forth for two weeks. I didn’t see myself as mother material, and definitely not as a single mother. I wanted to finish my education, to experience life. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t do it.” My voice hitches, which prompts Ben to hug me closer, letting me know he’s okay with what I’m telling him. I continue after another moment.

“I wish it was a moral reason that stopped me. But that’s not the case. Gosh, this is going to sound pathetic, but the reason I didn’t was because the baby was a part of you. I didn’t want to give that up. Even though you were gone and I was hurting, I wanted to hold on to what we had at least in this way. Oh God, that makes me such a bad person.” The guilt that I’m feeling attacks full force. Having met Archer, being his mother, and knowing that I considered giving him up, it’s tough to deal with.

Ben sits up suddenly, taking me with him and switches on the light on my nightstand, washing everything in a soft yellow hue. Then he turns to me, before he grabs my face with both hands, his eyes boring into mine.

“No, Frankie. Don’t you fucking dare putting yourself down. It was a difficult situation for you. Whatever you would have decided, I couldn’t have blamed you. I’m sorry I put you in that position, making you go through it alone. But I’m glad you made the decision to keep him, no matter the reason. You love Archer. It’s evident in everything you do. You have no reason to feel guilty. No reason at all, okay?”

I nod weakly, partly because my face is constricted between his strong hands, but also because it’s difficult to not feel guilty about it.

“I mean it, babe. You are a great mom and a good person.” He kisses me softly, his lips barely grazing mine. “I’m glad you didn’t do it.”

A single, lonely tear is running down my face, making me sniffle.

“Me too.”

Our tender moment is interrupted yet again. This time it isn’t Archer though, but an incessant banging on the front door. Ben eases out of bed, making his way downstairs. I can hear him swearing loudly.

“Hold your fucking horses. I’m coming.”