Page 74 of Before You Go

Wrapping my arms around my middle, I draw in a breath, then ask the question, burning the back of my throat. “Why would you tell my dad that we’re getting married?”

“Because it would be smart.”

Smart. I’m really starting to despise that word.

“That’s not a reason to get married, Dayton,” I tell him softly, and the muscle in his jaw flexes.

“All right, then, because I’m fucking selfish.” His fists clench at his sides as his eyes scan mine. “Because you still have your ex-husband’s last name. Because my kid is growing inside you. Because I don’t fucking like the idea of you being able to just walk away and me unable to do shit about it.”

“I wouldn’t just be able to walk away,” I whisper, caught off guard by his honesty and the depth of the emotions wrapped around everything he just said.

“You could.”

“Okay, I could. But even if I had your last name and a ring on my finger, I could still do that. It’s a choice to stay with someone, Dayton. A piece of paper or a last name doesn’t hold someone accountable.” I toss my hand out toward him. “You know I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to get into another relationship without figuring out who I was. But the thing is, I like the person I am when I’m with you. I like that you just let me be me, that you make me laugh, that every time I’m with you, I know there is nowhere else I want to be. I’m so fricking happy it scares me because I have never had this with anyone but you.”

“You have all the power here, Franny.”

“Are you kidding me? You could decide tomorrow that you don’t want to be in a relationship with me and that you don’t want to be a dad and then walk away without me being able to do anything about it. But I’m trusting that, at the end of the day, you’re choosing me and this baby.”

“I’ll always choose you and our child,” he says quietly.

“So trust that I’m choosing you—not because we share the same last name or because it would be easier if we tried to make this work, but because my happiness is twisted up in you,” I whisper, and he closes the distance between us and pulls me into his arms.

“You proved your point.”

“Thank God.” I curl up against his chest. “Arguing with you is exhausting, big guy.”

Using his fingers on my chin, he tips my head back, and I look up at him. “I still want you to change your last name. It might not be a big deal to you, but you don’t belong to him anymore.”

“Okay.” I close my eyes as they fill with tears.

“You’re stuck with me, Franny. Ring or not, for the rest of my life, I’ll choose you.”

CHAPTER 18

Dayton

With my back pressed against my headboard and my computer open on my lap, I listen to Franny getting ready for bed in the bathroom. We’ve settled into this nightly routine over the last couple of weeks. It wasn’t something we’ve ever spoken about: we never had a conversation about her sleeping over, but every night after we take PJ out, she stops at her place, gets whatever she needs, then comes upstairs with me, and we get ready for bed. That’s what life is like with her, there is no plan, everything just happens organically. I should have taken that into account when her father asked when we were getting married, but with her, I’m so fucking selfish that even having all of her, I still want more.

I’m sure that’s tied up with my past, my earliest memory isn’t a memory but a feeling of being alone, I can’t ever recall the context, but the emotion behind it is so strong I can feel it still today if I think about it. All of my childhood memories are like that. Every single one of them is centered around some painful emotion. I don’t know if I had good times growing up, if I was ever happy, if I ever laughed, felt the warmth of a hug, or heard my mom or dad tell me that they loved me. When I try to remember, I’m met with a blank slate like there is nothing there. Does that mean those things didn’t exist for me? I don’t know. I do know that my childhood is one of the reasons I’ve struggled with understanding my own emotions over the years.

Desire is easy; you know when you’re attracted to someone, the same way you know when you’re afraid, angry or happy, but love in my experience has been different. It’s like the current in a still stream, you know it’s there, that the water is moving but you can’t always see it.

I love my family, but my love for them was built slowly over the years on a foundation of mutual respect, acceptance, and longevity.

What I feel for Franny is nothing like that. It’s primal, greedy, jealous and a range of other emotions that are all-consuming, yet I’m sure it’s love. Just a messier version of it. Instead of an unseen current it’s a tsunami I can see and feel coming. It’s terrifying but I know that there is nothing I can do to change the tide, and I wouldn’t want to even if I could.

“Are you still planning on meeting me at the doctor’s office tomorrow for my appointment?” Franny asks, dragging me from my thoughts as she comes out of the bathroom, massaging lotion into her hands.

“Yes.” I take her in as she walks towards where I’m sitting with her hair tied up in a messy bun on top of her head and her face clean of makeup. The tank top and shorts she has on are both tight enough to give a glimpse of the slight roundness of her stomach. You’d have to be paying close attention to notice that she’s pregnant or know her intimately to see how much her body has changed over the last few weeks. And being well acquainted with every inch of her now, I’ve noticed every minute detail, from the change in the color of her nipples to how sensitive certain parts of her have gotten. “Three, right?” I smile as she removes the laptop off my lap and places it on the bedside table.

“Yes.” She climbs up onto the bed and straddles my lap. “But if you’re a little late, it’s okay.” Her soft hands slide up my chest and come to rest on my shoulders. “Before I see the doctor I have to have some blood drawn and that usually takes some time.”

“I won’t be late.”

“Well if you are it’s okay, I know you have meetings tomorrow.”

“I do, but I still won’t be late.” I circle her waist with my hands and slide them up under her tank, watching her pupils dilate.

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