Chapter Twenty-Four
Dean
She’s still not picking up.
I know she said she had tons of work to catch up on during the last few weeks, but I can tell something is different. She’s pulling away from me, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Hell, I can’t even get her to answer her phone. The only thing I can think of now is to just show up at her door and wait until she speaks to me. Payton’s stubborn and feisty on top of being gorgeous and loyal.
I can imagine that going over well.
But that doesn’t stop me from driving to her flower shop on Saturday morning. Even after she texted me last night after nine and said she just got home and was exhausted from her day and yada, yada, yada. I can feel the coolness that has settled between us.
And I don’t like it.
Not one fucking bit.
Bri is dying to see the flower shop and has not stopped asking questions since we got in the car to come here. Now, pulling up in front of the building and getting out of the car, I’m not so sure this is the best approach. If she hasn’t wanted to spend time with me before, showing up at her place of business, with my daughter in tow as some sort of buffer, probably isn’t going to go over well either.
Oh, well. There’s no turning back now. Bri is already at the door, pulling with all of her might, so I jump into action and help her get it the rest of the way open. As soon as I step over the threshold, I’m instantly assaulted with the scent of fresh flowers. Roses, daisies, hydrangeas, and more, every color under the sun. Not to mention the potted plants and other gifty items like vases and figurines.
I feel bad for not taking it all in the last time I was here, but the last time I kinda only had one thing in mind, and that was relieving the ache in my pants. We didn’t even make it past her workspace. The lights were off so no one could see, but I took her three ways to Sunday on top of that steel table. My balls start to ache as the memory starts to play out. Well, until I hear my daughter yell out that one word that makes my heart beat faster in my chest. “Payton!”
She comes out of the back room, a hesitant smile on her face. But as soon as her eyes land on Bri, the smile is wide and genuine. My daughter launches herself across the shop and straight into her arms. Again with the damn heartbeat thing.
“What are you guys doing here?” she asks Brielle and then glances over at me. Her smile is still real, but I see worry. Something has happened to my spirited girl, and I need to know what. I can’t fix it until I get to the bottom of this.
“We came to see you! I want to see some flowers,” Bri instructs.
“Rachel, can you watch everything? I’m going to give this little lady a tour of the shop,” Payton says to the younger woman at the counter.
“Come over here,” she says to Bri, putting her down and taking her hand. “This is one of my favorite parts of the shop.”
I follow as she leads Bri towards the glass case filled with bright arrangements. “When I first opened the shop, I would come over here and just stare at all the vibrant colors and smell all the gloriously fragrant scents. If the day was particularly stressful, which a lot of them were in the beginning, I would come over here and play with some of the blooms. It always seemed to ground me.”
“Pretty.”
“Yes, they are.”
“Which one is your favorite?” I ask.
She offers me a warm smile. “That would be like asking me to choose a favorite child.”
“I like this one,” Bri says, pointing to an arrangement in the front.
“Oh, me too! If I was forced to pick a flower, I would probably pick those. They’re called forget-me-nots, and most of the time we see them in this pretty blue. But I grow them at my house during the summer and my favorite is these pink ones. I had some brought in earlier this week for a special order. These are the majority of what’s left.”
“I want to see more!”
Payton crouches down in front of Bri. “I have a better idea. How about we make you your own bouquet that you can take home with you?”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. You can help me pick the flowers and everything.”
“Yay! Daddy, I’m gonna work at the flower shop with Payton!”
“Sounds like fun, princess.”
Again, I follow behind as Payton leads Bri to the back room. Together, they pick out a vase, which isn’t surprising at all to be a deep purple color. Then, they head into a walk-in cooler where my daughter picks out bloom after bloom of bright purple, pink, and yellow.
Payton explains the process as she starts snipping the ends off the flowers, compiling them into groups by length. Bri is hanging on every word she says, nodding her head every so often in understanding. Then, they get to work.
I stand off to the side so that I don’t interrupt them. Payton explains how she’s using the blooms with longer stems for the center and works her way out with the shorter ones. The colors are a mix, but seem to make my daughter happy as she helps arrange them in the vase. When the flowers are in position, they walk over to the sink and add water. Then to finish off the project, Bri chooses a polka dot white and pink ribbon for the bow. Even though Payton makes it, she takes her time, explaining each twist and loop of the ribbon. When it’s completed, Bri places it around the lip of the vase and Payton ties it into place.
It’s complete.
And so is my heart.
When Payton glances up at me, there’s a moment of pure joy and excitement radiating from her. Unfortunately, it’s quickly squashed when something else takes over her features. Not wanting to lose what we’ve been slowly building, I head over to where she’s standing.
“That was amazing. Bri will never forget it.”
“It was fun. I enjoyed getting to show her this side of my passion.”
“You love your work. It’s evident in how you spoke about it and how detailed you were in your teaching.”
“I do love it.” She nods and gazes fondly back over to her little helper.
“Thank you,” I say without hesitation.
She looks back over at me, confusion written on her face. “For what?”
“For spending time with her, for teaching her something I couldn’t, for loving her.” I take a stab in the dark that my comment will hit its mark. I know she loves my daughter, I see it in the way she interacts with her. I just don’t know if she’s ready to acknowledge it. She’s so gun shy when it comes to relationships, and even though one with my daughter is on a different scale, it’s still a big step for her.
“That’s easy to do,” she whispers. I don’t miss the tears filling her eyes. “She’s a very special, amazing, lovable little girl.”
“She is. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”
“She’s you.” Her words hit me like a sledgehammer, right in the chest. My love for her is boiling over and I want to say it. Hell, I want to scream it! I want to tell her that she’s it for me, the one.
“Daddy, can Payton come have dinner with us?” she asks, moving her floral arrangement from the table to the front counter.
“I’m not sure, honey. Why are you taking your flowers up front?” I ask, following her through the doorway.
“So dat the other people can see how pretty they are. Payton says flowers make you smile and I want to make everyone smile.”
Pride spreads through my chest. It’s warm and familiar and something I’ve experienced several times over the course of this life journey as a father. “Those will make everyone smile, I’m sure.”
“Do you wanna have mac and cheese with us, Payton? Daddy is gonna take me to dinner and I get mac and cheese.”
“No, you don’t get mac and cheese. If we’re going to a restaurant, you have to pick something you don’t eat almost daily at home.”
“Daddy,” she groans, clearly unhappy with my rebuttal. “Payton, can you come to dinner wiff us?”
“Oh, I’m not sure, sweetie.” I can tell she’s trying to figure out how to get out of it.
“Puh-lease? I promise to eat all my dinner. And I’ll get something besides mac and cheese.”
She smiles down at the little brunette giving her the big doe eyes in front of her. Her resolve is clearly cracking and crumbling around her. “I might be able to have dinner tonight,” she concedes with a small smile.
“Don’t feel obligated,” I say, feeling a little annoyed. “If you have other plans, that’s fine.”
“No,” she defends quickly. “I don’t have other plans.”
I give her a few moments to change her mind or back out, but it doesn’t come. I give her a quick nod. “We’ll pick you up at six, if that works for you.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be ready.”
“Yay!” Payton exclaims.
“We should get out of your hair,” I finally say, nodding towards the customer that Rachel is helping over by the fresh flower bouquet case. “How much do I owe you?”
“For what?” she asks.
“The flowers. I didn’t bring her here for you to give her flowers. I can pay for them.”
“I could never take your money. Those are for Bri.”
We stare at each other for a few tense seconds.
“Thank you,” I finally concede.
“I’m glad you stopped in.” Her words are quiet, almost a confession that she’s trying to wrap her head around.
“We’ll see you tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Come on, Bri. It’s time to let Payton work. The shop is gonna be closing soon.”
My daughter groans, but doesn’t complain too much. Instead, she goes over and gives Payton a big hug. “Can I come work with you someday? I can help make the pretty flowers.”
“I would love that,” Payton replies with a smile.
As I steer my child towards the door, Payton calls out behind us. “Here. Don’t forget your flowers,” she says, passing the pink and purple bouquet to my daughter.”
“I can take them home?”
“Of course you can. I want you to put them on your table so you can see them every day.”
“And smile every day,” she adds with a brightly toothy grin.
“Yes. Every day because you have a gorgeous smile that lights up the room,” Payton says with a wink and a smile.
Bri giggles. “My smile isn’t a light bulb, Payton.”
They hug once more before I finally drag my daughter out of the shop. Payton’s going to dinner with us tonight, which makes me happy, even if Bri had to coax her into it. It’s a step, even if the smallest of baby steps. At least we’re not heading backwards, right?
For now, I’ll just hang out and wait until tonight. There are some things we need to talk about and I’m hoping we’ll get those cleared up this evening. I’m a patient man, but when it comes to Payton, I find myself running out of tolerance. I want her. Plain and simple.
Now it’s time to make it reality.
* * *
She’s quiet as we walk into the café, but only because she’s unable to get a word in edge-wise. Bri has been talking non-stop since we picked Payton up ten minutes ago. Glancing around, I spy an open booth in the corner, but before I can lead the girls towards the space, our attention is pulled in the opposite direction.
“Yoohoo! Payton! Come sit with us,” I hear over my shoulder. When I turn, I spy her grandma and grandpa, as well as one of the twins.
“We don’t have to sit with them, but let’s at least say hi.”
“We can sit with them,” I respond as we walk in their direction, my hand finding a comfortable spot on her lower back.
“We don’t have to,” she whispers as we approach the table.
Before I can reply, Brielle slides into the chair beside Emma, who is helping her take her jacket off. “I guess the decision is already made,” Payton whispers again.
“I don’t mind,” I say, grabbing an extra chair from a nearby table so that we have enough seats. It’s a tight fit, but all six of us make it work.
“Dean, it’s so good to see you again. I’ll give you a hug when we’re done eating,” Emma says as she magically pulls crayons out of her purse.
“You just want to grab his ass,” the twin says, letting me know it’s Lexi and not Abby.
“That’s just a bonus. I like hugging,” Emma says brightly.
“Oh, she’s a very good…hugger,” Orval adds with a mischievous grin on his face. I’m pretty sure we’re no longer talking about the same thing.
“Yes, I do enjoy our…hugs,” Emma coos with a wink.
“Anyway,” Payton interrupts, doing her best to steer the conversation away from the inappropriate direction it was clearly heading.
“I like hugs!” Bri adds. “Daddy hugs me good, but Payton’s hugs are the best.”
My throat closes as I look across the table at my daughter. She’s casually coloring, not even remotely aware that her simple words caused cardiac arrest on her dear ol’ dad.
“Payton learned to give hugs from the master. Isn’t that right, Dean?” Grandma asks with another wink. Again, I’m pretty sure we’re not talking about the same type of hugs.
“Uh, okay. Although I’m starting to wonder if there is a right or wrong answer to that question.”
“Grandma, leave him alone. We don’t need to discuss my abilities to hug at the dinner table.”
“Oh, Payters. It’s always the right time to talk about hugging! And what better time than at the dinner table with family.” Emma has an ornery glean in her aged eyes.
“No, you should never talk about hugging at the dinner table, nor with family, especially your grandparents,” Lexi says, a horrified look on her face.
“Are we back to that again? Must I explain to you how hugging is a natural part of life? I thought we went over this when you girls were younger.”
“Yes, we did. I’m pretty sure I was the only person who learned about the birds and the bees from her grandma who brought multimedia resources to help during show and tell,” Payton chides.
“Show and tell?” I whisper, leaning in to her side.
“Penthouse and Playboy magazines. Plus, she left Grandpa’s copy of some cheesy 1970’s disco porno and told me to knock myself out.”
“That was educational,” Emma defends.
“It was not. It was disgusting and vulgar. Not to mention the fact that I was never able to look at a roller skating rink the same.”
“That was my favorite scene,” Orval says with a fond grin. “This girl was bent over, her rump in the air, while her partner held on to her hips for leverage, all while skating around the rink. It was a true test of her flexibility and his stamina. I could never get my Emma to reenact that scene with me.”
“Please stop,” Payton and Lexi both beg at the same time.
“I want to skate! I’ll go skating with you!” Bri exclaims innocently, making me choke on the ice tea the waitress just delivered.
“Yes! Let’s go skating. Orval, let’s plan to take Miss Brielle skating soon.”
“You guys can’t go skating. You’ll break your hips,” Payton cries, outraged at their carefree, blasé outlook on something as dangerous as roller skating.
“We’ll be fine. If we were at risk of breaking a hip, it would have happened by now. Your grandfather is a fan of my nimbleness.”
“Jesus, kill me now. Are you sure you don’t want to get our own table?” Payton mumbles.
“Can I go with you?” Lexi asks.
Fortunately, the rest of dinner progresses without any more talk about sex. Bri ordered the chicken fingers and ate all but one. Plus, she had some peaches and a bunch of Payton’s fries. Considering it wasn’t mac and cheese, I was happy with her meal choice. Payton seemed to relax through dinner, offering me a few genuine smiles as she shared stories of her childhood and the antics of her and her sisters.
When dinner is done and dessert nothing but empty plates and bowls, we get up to leave. I try to pay for our dinners, but Orval won’t hear of it. He wouldn’t even accept cash to put towards the bill or the tip.
“Thank you for dinner,” I tell them as we all stand up and gather jackets.
“It was my pleasure. I’m glad we ran into you,” Orval says, sticking his hand out for me to shake.
“I’m sure we’ll see you and Brielle again very soon. We have dinner together every few weeks, so I’ll be sure Payton mentions it to you when we plan the next gathering,” Emma adds as she steps in and wraps her arms around my waist.
Glancing over at Payton, her eyes are sad again, which tells me there’s a good chance I won’t actually be invited to the next family dinner. “Thank you for the invite, Emma,” I reply, not really knowing what else to say.
Suddenly, her frail arms tighten around my waist and I feel hands grip my ass. This little sprite of a woman has two handfuls of my ass and a broad smile across her face. “Oh, Dean, the pleasure is all mine.”
“Grandma, let go of my man’s ass,” Payton chastises from behind. Lexi dies laughing when she finally lets go, but not without a quick squeeze for good measure.
“What can I say, she’s an ass man,” Orval whispers as he leads his wife towards the door.
“Keep your wife under control,” Payton reprimands.
“There’s no controlling her, my dear. She’s as wild as the wind.”
“And you love it,” Grandma adds before he leads her out the door. “Come on, Lex. We’ll take you back home.”
“I’m wishing I had driven myself,” Lexi whispers as she crosses in front of us and follows behind her grandparents.
After final goodbyes and promises to take Bri roller skating, they head off to their car parked on the side of the street. I go to take my daughter’s hand, but find she’s already in Payton’s arms. They’re ahead of me now, walking towards my car, discussing the upcoming trip to the skating rink.
I’ll be honest, I’m confused. She has been pushing me away for the last few weeks, but calls me her man in front of her family. She’s planning a trip with my daughter, but makes me wonder if she’ll actually be around long enough to go on said trip. I’m confused as hell, and there’s only one way to find out what’s going on.
Or one person who can explain it to me.
We get in my car and pull out, but I have no intention of heading towards Payton’s house. We’re talking tonight, and I’ve got my daughter. Therefore, the only way to achieve this is to head to my house.
“Where are we going?” Payton asks from the passenger seat as I pass her street and head towards mine.
“My place.”
“Why?”
“I have to get Bri home and in bed, and I think we need to talk.” I glance over and see her staring at me. Her throat bobs as she swallows, but gives me a quick nod.
“You could have dropped me off so I could get my car.”
“True,” I concede, keeping my eyes on the road, “but this way you can’t sneak out without me knowing.” I offer her a quick smile and a wink, but honestly, it’s the truth. I hide my smirk knowing that she won’t be able to leave without a ride back to her place, and therefore, will be forced to stay with me. All night. All weekend. Forever.
Yeah, let’s go with that.
Back at my place, I’m second fiddle as Bri asks Payton to help her with her bath and get ready for bed. If she was uncomfortable with helping my daughter with her nightly routine, she didn’t show it. In fact, it was as natural as if it were an actual mother/daughter relationship. Again, my heart pounds in my chest.
I read a book, followed by one from Payton. Even though there’s a bit of begging and pleading, we finally get Bri into bed and the lights off. She gives dozens of hugs and kisses to each of us, asking tons of questions and trying to prolong bedtime as long as humanly possible. You gotta give her props for trying, right?
Finally, Payton and I are alone in the living room. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Just water,” she says quietly after taking a seat on the couch.
Heading into the kitchen gives me a few minutes to get my thoughts together. I know we need to talk, but there’s a nagging fear inside of me that reminds me that this could be the last time she’s sitting on my couch after putting my daughter to bed. After a few calming, cleansing breaths, I head back into the living room with two glasses of water.
“Thank you.” Our fingers touch as she grabs the glass, causing those pesky, familiar lightning bolts of lust to strike my cock. Apparently, the wayward appendage doesn’t care that we’re about to break-up.
I take a seat across from the couch on the loveseat. As much as I’d love to sit beside her and pull her into my arms, I need to keep my head about myself, and therefore, keep my hands off her. We stare at each other, neither of us really knowing what to say. She looks sad and resolved, her green eyes dim.
“How have you been? I haven’t seen you much lately,” I start.
“Okay. I’ve spent some time with Meghan. She wants to move, says it’s too hard to stay in the house that they just got, but then when she picks up the paper to actually look for something, she feels guilty and cries herself to sleep.”
“I couldn’t imagine. It must be very hard for her. And you.”
“It’s the worst. I want to help, to make it all better, but I can’t. I think that’s the worst of it all. I’ve always been the one to make it all better, you know? As the oldest, they’ve come to me with everything from boy troubles to homework help. But this? I can’t fix this.”
“No, you can’t.”
We’re both quiet again. She stares down at her water, turning the glass in her hand as if it were the most interesting glass of water in the world.
“There are other things I can’t fix either,” she finally whispers. When her eyes find mine, they have tears in them. Tears that practically reach into my chest and squeeze my heart.
“What kinda things?”
Silence again. I can tell she’s gathering the courage she needs to say her piece.
“Do you remember when I told you there were things I wasn’t ready to tell you?” Her voice is shaky, but she’s trying so hard to be brave. She squares her shoulders and looks me in the eyes. Instead of answering her question, I nod.
“Well, there’s something I’ve known for some time now, and I’m not sure I’ve ever really dealt with it.”
“Okay,” I encourage.
“Can I ask you something first?” Again, I nod. “Do you want more kids?”
Her question throws me. It’s definitely not what I expected her to ask, that’s for sure. But she’s nervously awaiting my answer, so I give it to her. “Honestly, I’ve never really thought much about it? I mean, when I found out about Brielle, it was a bit of a surprise. She wasn’t planned, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t change it for anything.
“I guess the best way to answer the question is to say maybe. If the right woman came along, and she wanted kids, then yes. Would I be upset having more? Hell no. Brielle was a dream, even though it was tough parenting by myself. But if I didn’t have more, I’d be just fine.”
“What if you couldn’t have more?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“What do you mean? Me personally or me as in me and the woman I love?” It seems so easy to say the words, even though I haven’t actually said them to her yet.
“You and the woman you…love.” She looks pained to repeat my words.
“Well, if it couldn’t happen, I guess then the decision is made for us, right?”
“What if you wanted them and the woman you loved wanted them, but she couldn’t have them?” The tears start to fall, and I’m unable to stay seated any longer. She looks so defeated, so dejected, and so fucking heartbroken.
“Tell me,” I whisper as I wrap my arms around her and pull her into my lap. Her hands shake as she grips my shirt, clinging to me for strength.
“I can’t have kids. I was diagnosed with PCOS when I was in my early twenties.” I try to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but more fall just as quickly.
“What’s PCOS?”
She pulls back, her hands still locked on the front of my shirt. Swallowing hard, she tells me. “It stands for polycystic ovary syndrome. I have irregular periods, which causes abnormal ovarian function, or so the doctor said. Basically, I don’t ovulate right. Because of this, the chances of me actually getting pregnant on my own are slim to none.”
“On your own?”
“Well, there are injections of drugs that could help, but it’s not guaranteed. There’s also IVF, but I’d have to go to a bigger city for that. It’s not offered in Jupiter Bay, not to mention that it’s not covered by insurance. Plus, there’s the fact that I’m approaching thirty-five which is practically a death sentence for women with PCOS and their ability to conceive on their own.”
She continues to cry, and I finally see it. She’s not just saddened by the news, she’s mourning her ability to have kids. My beautiful, strong Payton has been sitting on this piece of information for years, and if I had to guess, hasn’t shared it with anyone. She has let it continue to eat away at her until she was drowning in it. That thought breaks my damn heart.
“Does this PCOS thing affect anything else?”
“Well, it can cause hormonal issues, things like facial hair or hair in other gross places, stuff like that. And cysts on my ovaries and uterus, but the ones I’ve had thus far haven’t been much of an issue.”
“Okay,” I say, taking in everything she’s told me. “So your big hang-up is…” I leave it open-ended, so she can clarify and just say the words she needs to say.
“I can’t have kids!” she proclaims, louder than I think she realizes. “And who wants to be with a woman who can’t give him an heir?” Again, the tears start to fall ripping at my heart.
“So this is why you’ve distanced yourself from me? This is why you didn’t want to get close to me or anyone else? You think I won’t want to be with you because you can’t provide me with an heir?”
“Of course I think that! Cole didn’t want to be with me, so why would anyone else?”
My blood runs cold. “What?”
Taking a deep breath, she tells me about her ex. “Cole and I had dated for a while. I had always had irregular periods, and when I mentioned it to my doctor, he wanted to do a pelvic exam and scheduled an ultrasound and some blood work. After, he explained what he found and told me it would be very difficult, if not impossible for me to get pregnant. Okay, he didn’t say impossible, because even with PCOS, there is a rare chance, but it was basically like being told I’d never have kids.
“I was really upset when I found out. I mean, I had always wanted kids. I saw myself as a mother, you know? When my doctor told me that, it felt like it was stripped away from me. I was devastated. Cole was upset, too. He wanted kids. Hell, we’d talked about it, but after everything was said and done, there was nothing left for him with me.”
“That’s bullshit,” I tell her with a vengeance I wasn’t expecting. “That’s complete, utter, unacceptable bullshit.”
She looks at me with shock in her gorgeous green eyes, but I’m not going to stop now.
She needs to hear what I have to say.