What the hell is going on here?
“Where’s my father?” I grit out.
The guy might not be high, but I’m still suspicious.
“In the shower.” Darryl places his Pepsi on a coaster on the coffee table.
I scratch my head. “Why are you here?”
“Your father is riding with me to our meeting and seems to be running late. I told him to take his time, and he told me I could wait in here.”
My head spins. “Meeting? Meeting for what?”
His face falls. “He still hasn’t told you?”
“Hasn’t told me what?”
“I think it’s best you have that conversation with him.”
With perfect timing, my father walks out of the bedroom, buttoning up his shirt.
He smiles. “Oh, hey, son. I see you’ve met Darryl.”
I raise my brows. “I have, and he said you’re going to some meeting?”
Darryl stands. “I’ll wait outside. Give you two some privacy to talk.”
I rub the back of my neck.
What the fuck is going on?
What kind of meetings would my dad be attending?
I inspect my dad, taking in his kempt appearance. He’s put on weight and is obviously freshly showered. His words were clear.
He stands inches from me, crossing and then uncrossing his arms. “I’m attending meetings … addiction support groups … to help me sober up. Darryl is my sponsor.”
“To help you sober up … or are you sober?”
He gleams with pride. “I’ve been sober seven days now. I know it’s not much, but it’s a start.”
I’ve never felt so much damn pride in my life. “Seriously?”
He nods, his smile filled with just as much pride. “Yes, son.”
I smile, yet it’s still reserved. “That’s fucking awesome, Dad. I’m so proud of you.”
He’s never done this before. Anytime I’ve mentioned him getting help or seeing a therapist, he’s always insisted he doesn’t need help … that those people don’t know what they’re talking about.
“What made you decide to do this?” I ask, retreating a step.
“You. My life. Seeing the disgust you had when you picked me up at that house.” He gestures to my apartment. “Seeing how living in a nice place can be. I went to the bar, and Archer wouldn’t tell me where your new job was.” His face falls. “That hurt … but what really hurt was when I was leaving. Someone stopped and congratulated me on becoming a grandfather soon.” His chest hitches. “I had no idea, and as I sat in my car, angry at first, then I burst into tears. That’s when it finally hit me. Why would you want someone like me around your baby? I was a piece-of-shit father to you and was still acting irresponsibly. I sat there for an hour, thinking about being a grandfather, and my heart lit up, son. It was like a sign of me needing to get my shit together, so I can be a good grandfather.”
Whoa.
This isn’t what I expected.
I came here to tell my father he could stay in the apartment but that he would need to find work and get himself some help. I was on the fence about whether to disclose the baby information to him.
“I’m proud of you.” His voice chokes up. “Now, it’s time for you to be proud of me. For my grandchild to be proud of me. Please give me a second chance to show you that I can be a better person.”
I’m shaking all over, and I shut my eyes.
It’s what I wanted from him all along while I was growing up. I was always sad that I wasn’t special enough to push him in that direction. It makes me fucking ecstatic that my baby is that important to him to finally take the initiative.
“It’s a girl,” I state, a wave of heat hitting me as my eyes grow teary. “We’re having a baby girl.”
“I’m so happy for you, son.”
And for the first time, my father and I hug.
Chapter Forty-One
Grace
Gavin is gone.
The week after the baby shower incident, I was informed my coworkers had signed a petition asking for him to be fired. Since some of my coworkers had been at the shower, they wrote letters to the school board, demanding his temporary replacement become his permanent one. The school board listened, and bye-bye, Gavin.
He’s gone from my work. He signed over his parental rights. I blocked his number. My life should be Gavin-free now.
Good riddance.
The school day has ended, and there’s a spark back in my step—a slow step, given the baby seems to be growing like a weed these days.
I peer up from my desk at a knock on the door to find a nervous Vivica.
Just when I thought I was Gavin-free.
“Hear out,” Vivica says in one breath.
“How about I show you out?” I counter, gripping my pen so tight that I’m waiting for it to break in half.
“I won’t take much of your time,” she pleads.
“What do you want?” I uneasily glance around the room, waiting for Gavin to appear … or something.
Who even let her in?
After the show she put on, she should have been banned from stepping foot into this school. Not only that but her husband was also just fired.
She grimaces. “I want to apologize.”
I hold my hand up, warding her off from coming closer. “No need.”
She holds her belly, which is bigger than mine. She looks ready to give birth at any moment. “That’s not my character. I’ve never done something like that before—not even with Gavin’s other mistresses. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones … I don’t know. Something just snapped inside me.”
“I have pregnancy hormones too,” I deadpan, not trying to sound like a bitch yet not being overly nice because what she did wasn’t cool. “And I found out the father of my child was married, and then he proceeded to practically harass me. Not once did I ever consider treating someone like that, especially someone who hadn’t done anything. If you had read my text exchanges with Gavin, you would’ve seen that I asked him to stop texting, to stop calling, because he was married. No one knew about you until the first day you showed up.”
She recoils at my words, but they needed to be said.
I take a steeling breath. “You deserve someone better than him, Vivica. I hope you realize that for the sake of yourself … and the sake of your family.”
Her face tenses. “You know nothing about my personal life. I came here to apologize. I did. Thank you for getting those papers drawn up and the money. I believe that you didn’t know, and I appreciate you ending the affair when you found out. Now, we’re just looking for the next step. It seems everywhere we go, my husband can’t keep his dick in his pants.” The last statement is said with a snarl. “I wish you luck, Grace.”
“You too, Vivica.”
She’s sure as hell going to need more than luck.
Maybe a frying pan to whack Gavin over the head and knock some sense into him.
When she disappears through the door, I grab my bag and go home to a man who can keep his dick in his pants.
To Finn.
The man I love.