Unexpected Daddies

by Lively, R. S.

  "I'm back," I say when she answers the phone.

  There's a few seconds of silence.

  "OK," she says.

  "I don't know how long I'm going to be here. I just needed a change. I'll make sure the rest of the updates are done. Apparently, Cade has been doing some while I haven't been here, but I'll make sure everything is ready when you get back."

  "It's fine, Honey. Relax. You're home. You can stay as long as you need."

  "Thank you, Grammie." I take a fortifying sip of the sweet coffee. "How are you doing?"

  "I'm wonderful," she says. "Arthur and I are having the best time."

  I sigh.

  "Grammie, who's Arthur?"

  This time, I get an answer.

  "He is a very nice man I met on the cruise. He got very wealthy when he was younger with his orange grove, and now he's settled into a relaxed retirement. He still has his grove, though. He doesn't live there anymore, but he visits, and his grandchildren operate it now. He's been showing me around."

  "He's been showing you around an orange grove? I wasn't aware there were too many of those in Virginia."

  "Well," she says with a touch of hesitation in her voice. "There aren't. He’s from Florida. That's where we are now. It just so happens the sister of one of the ladies in my retirement community tour group lives in the same community as Arthur. We decided it would be a good time to expand our comparisons a little."

  I draw in a breath and let it out slowly.

  "I'm happy for you," I say.

  "You are?"

  "Of course. I want you to be happy."

  I genuinely mean it. I'm glad to see she is finally making some use of the money Gramps left for her and enjoying life beyond her usual antics around Hoot Owl. As the call ends, my mind drifts to Cade. I can't stop thinking about what my grandmother told me about my grandfather. She said she knew he would want her to be happy, and to live the life that was best for her even when he wasn't able to be with her. For the first time, I wonder if that was what Cade was doing. He thought he couldn't be with me then, but he wanted me to be happy, and to still live the best life I could even when he wasn't there. So, he left me to live my life while he worked on building his own. It wasn't that he didn't want to be with me, or to have the future we always planned. He thought he was giving me what was best for me.

  I want to talk to him, but every time I pick up the phone, my nerves stop me from dialing. It takes three days before I can finally touch his name on the screen of my phone, but it's not to call him. Instead, I found a few things he had left behind, and had snapped a picture of them. I quickly type a message telling him I'll mail them to him if he wants me to, and send it before I can second-guess myself. My chest flutters nervously as I wait for his response, but it never comes. My heart sinks, and doubt creeps into my mind. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he didn't actually mean what he had said after all. Or maybe he finally decided I wasn't worth the effort.

  My heart aching, I set my phone down on the sideboard in the parlor and get back to work sanding the banister on the stairs. Cade and I had replaced it before we both left but hadn't gotten a chance to finish it. I'm nearly done with the sanding, and next I'll apply the stain that will match the floor. It's a methodical, slow process that lets me release my mind, and lose myself in the rhythm. I've made progress and am halfway up the stairs, sitting as I work on the spindles, when I hear the knob on the front door shake. My heart leaps into my chest. I look up, expecting to see Cade come through the door, having left as soon as he got my message. Instead, a face looks back at me that makes my stomach jump into my throat, and my hand shake.

  It's Jace.

  I should have locked the door. I fell into the rhythm of leaving it unlocked while I was here with Cade, and I never got out of it. Now Jace has walked right through it and is standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at me with a sickening smile on his thin, colorless lips. I try to remember what made me flirt with him in the first place. I immediately know it was Cade. I know I barely even saw Jace when he was here. I didn't need to.

  "What are you doing here?" I ask.

  The smile melts into an expression I can only imagine he thinks looks apologetic, and Jace takes a step up onto the stairs.

  "I'm sorry about how we left things," he says. "I feel terrible about the way I acted. It was inexcusable, and I wanted to apologize."

  "Thank you," I say.

  "I heard you were alone here in the house, and I thought I'd come by and offer my services. Nothing formal, I just wanted to see if I could be helpful to you."

  "You heard?" I ask. "No one around here knows I'm back but my grandmother."

  Was he watching me? How long had he known I was here, and been waiting to come in?

  "You're right," he says with a sheepish laugh. "I just wanted to see you again, so I came by, hoping I'd find you here."

  I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

  "I appreciate the offer," I say, "but I'm fine. Really. I can handle this."

  "You don't need to act so strong with me," he says, climbing up another step. "I know you can't do all this yourself." He runs his hand along the banister. "You need a man around."

  His voice has dropped and carries a slick, suggestive note I don't think has anything to do with finishing the banister.

  "What I need is for you to leave," I say, standing up. My hand grips the banister tightly. I don't want to show my fear. "I don't need your help, and I don't want you in my house. Please leave."

  "Don't be that way, Fiona. I know things got off to a rocky start between us, but I can make it all better."

  I wish I hadn't left my phone in the other room. I feel vulnerable, my heart pounding so hard in my chest I feel like I'm going to be sick. But I keep my eyes trained on Jace, not wanting to look away for even a second.

  "Jace, leave. Cade is going to be back any minute."

  He stares at me, and I can’t tell if he heard the lie in my voice or not. Finally, he steps down off the stairs.

  "Fine," he says. "I was just trying to be nice."

  He walks out of the house, and I finally let out the breath that had been trapped in my lungs since the moment I first saw Jace. Shaking, I drop down to sit on the stairs again. Drawing in long breaths, I do my best to calm down. When I feel like I'm in control of my legs again, I rush to the door and turn the lock. Grabbing my phone, I tuck it into my pocket and walk around the house, checking every door and window.

  * * *

  That night…

  After Jace left, I lost much of my motivation to keep working. Instead, I locked myself in the bathroom and took a long shower. The feeling of the warm water washing over me is soothing, getting rid of everything hanging over me. Well, not everything. But about as much as I can hope for. Slipping under fresh sheets, I read until I start to feel tired, and then turn off the lights. It's earlier than I usually go to bed, but it doesn't take me long to fall asleep. I don't know how long I've been sleeping when a loud crashing sound wakes me up. Startled, I sit upright in the bed. For a few seconds, I wonder if I’m dreaming or not. Being alone in the big old house is enough to make even a calm imagination go off the rails, and that doesn't bode well for me and the lingering memories of night terrors from when I was inspired by the giant moths outside my bedroom window. The house falls quiet, with only the pounding of my heart and the cicadas chirping outside, ringing in my ears. I’m just starting to lay back down, convinced I scared myself out of sleep with a nightmare when I hear another sound downstairs. Throwing my blankets off, I creep across the room and out into the hallway. I've only taken a few steps when a dark figure rushes up the stairs toward me.

  I scream as hands grab me by my upper arms and I fall onto the floor. In the glow of the nightlight left in the bathroom, I see Jace's face hovering over mine. His eyes are wild, his jaw set as he stares at me.

  "Where's Cade?" he asks through gritted teeth. He sounds furious at first but quickly bursts into laughter. "Where
is he? I thought he was coming back so soon."

  "Get off me," I demand as I try to fight him off.

  "Stop," Jace says, lifting me by my shoulders just enough to slam me back onto the floor. "I know you were lying. You really shouldn't do that, Fiona. People are going to think things about you. Now, let's be honest with each other. I know you're here all alone. Cade hasn't been here since you got back. He's not coming back, either. He doesn't care about you like I do. You really should have been nicer to me. We could have been so good together."

  I lift my knee up sharply, burying it in Jace's stomach. It shocks him enough that he loses his grip on me, and curls backward. I take the opportunity to scramble away from him. Without thinking, I dip into Cade's bedroom and lock the door behind me. Within seconds, I hear Jace kicking the door. I know it won't withstand the pressure for long, but I don't need it to. I yank the vanity table out of the way, and duck into the passage. Using the handle Cade and I had discovered on the back of the panel, I pull the table back into place. Closing the entrance plunges me into complete darkness, but I can't think about it. I don't have the time to be afraid of the dark. I have to move.

  Pressing my hands to the walls on either side of me, I start down the passage. My feet slip on the first set of steps, but I catch myself and keep going. I can hear Jace shouting, but his voice is muffled by the walls, and I can't make out what he's saying. Finally, I make it to the hidden study. The entrance is standing open from the last time we used it, and I slip through into the room. With no window, the room is extremely dark, but I can feel my way along the wall until I find the light switch. The light is reassuring, calming me down enough that I feel my shaking slowing.

  I sit on the floor by the panel of the wall that leads out into the hallway, my ear pressed against it so I can listen to what's happening in the rest of the house. Each infuriated scream and crash makes me jump, but I press my hand over my mouth to keep myself from making any noise. I know Jace couldn't get to me even if he figured out where I was, but I don't want to take any chances.

  What feels like hours pass before finally, the house falls silent. I stay where I am, not moving, not making a sound for several more minutes. Finally, I climb to my feet and turn off the light before opening the wall panel just enough for me to slip out. When the panel is in place again, I creep carefully down the hallway, still sensing I'm not alone. When I turn the corner from the hallway, toward the back staircase, I see a shadowy figure standing at the bottom of the stairs. A sudden surge of anger and defensiveness swells inside me, and I run down the first few steps before launching myself at Jace. I let out a scream as I clamp onto his back and start pounding on his shoulders, one of my arms wrapped around his face and over his mouth.

  Grunting and mumbling against my arm, he flails and spins around, trying to buck me off him. Piles of wood, cans of paint, and containers of tools fall and scatter across the floor. I feel myself slipping, but grip harder, wrapping my legs around his waist and clamping my ankles together. At this point, I'm not sure what I intend to do. I hadn't thought this all the way through when I jumped, but now I'm committed. All I can hope is that somehow I can wrangle him toward the front door, get him outside, and disentangle myself without him gaining control.

  We've made our way closer to the front of the house, and my arm slides down from his mouth.

  "Fiona!" It's not Jace's voice screaming at me. Oops. "Get off me!"

  Just as I'm processing that I've been riding Cade around the house like a bucking bronco, Jace steps out of the dark living room. He swings a leftover plank from the floor, hitting Cade on the shoulder and narrowly missing me. I drop down off of Cade and watch as he lunges toward Jace. The two men clash, smashing into the walls and floor as they fight. They scramble to their feet, and I rush toward them. Balling up my fist, I swing toward Jace. He ducks, and Cade lets out a grunt as my fist comes in contact with his temple.

  "I'm sorry!" I gasp. "I'm sorry, Cade! That wasn't meant for you! I'm sorry!"

  "Fiona."

  "I'm sorry!"

  "Fiona."

  "Are you OK?"

  "Fiona! Stop apologizing and call the police."

  I feel for my phone in my pocket, then remember I'm in my pajamas and my phone is still upstairs under my pillow. Running past the men, I get to my room as fast as I can and grab the phone.

  "Intruder!" I yell when the operator answers. "Intruder!"

  It's another little life lesson I remember from Grammie. The one word emergency responders react to the most is 'intruder'. The woman didn't mind leaving the whole house unlocked, and the windows flung open with the absolute certainty that nothing dangerous would ever happen, but she sure as hell had a plan for if it did.

  By the time I rattle out the address, I hear a heavy thud, and the house goes quiet. Still gripping the phone to my ear, I tiptoe out of the room and to the stairwell. Cade sits on a stair a few from the bottom, and I see Jace lying in a heap on the floor at his feet.

  "I think the intruder is unconscious," I say.

  "And the other man?"

  "He seems alright. He's just sitting there."

  "Alright. We have police and ambulance on the way."

  "Thank you."

  I end the call and run down the stairs toward Cade. Sitting down behind him, I wrap my arms around him.

  "Are you OK?" I ask.

  He turns toward me, and I see a narrow trail of blood trickling down his face, and a few bruises forming on his skin. I gasp, but he shakes his head.

  "I'm fine, Fi," he says.

  "Is there anything I can do?"

  Taking my hand, Cade brings it to his lips and kisses it.

  "Never try to rescue me again."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cade

  I shake the police officer's hand one last time, watching as he walks toward his car before shutting the door to the house and turning the lock. In the distance, I can still hear the whine of the ambulance siren bringing Jace to the hospital. Once they patch him up, he'll be turned over to the police to face a nice little checklist of charges. Turning to Fiona, I open my arms to her, and she rushes into them. She buries her face in my chest, and I hear her let out a shaky breath.

  "You should have let the paramedics look at you," she chides.

  "I'm fine," I reiterate for probably the thousandth time that hour. "Your punch was the worst blow I took tonight. For all his pomp and circumstance, Jace was really a bit of a lightweight."

  "We made such a mess," she groans.

  "That's alright. We'll fix it. Together."

  She leans back and cautiously looks up into my eyes.

  "You never messaged me back."

  "I know," I say. "I've been in meetings all day, and I didn't even look at my phone until I got home."

  "Why did you come back so late?"

  "The picture you sent me."

  She smiles.

  "I was hoping you would…"

  "It showed how much trouble you're having."

  Fiona's mouth drops open, and she steps back away from me.

  "What?" she snaps.

  "In the picture you sent me. I saw all the of the issues you're having with these projects. I just had to come and try to salvage them."

  She looks horrified, and I finally laugh.

  "I'm kidding," I say. "I've been here every couple of days since you left, but not since Grammie told me you were back. I didn't know if you'd want to see me. But then you messaged me. When I got it, I couldn't stay away from you any longer. I came right here."

  Fiona smiles and takes my hands.

  "It's alright. I can admit, I was in a little over my head. I thought I was doing well, but I might have hit a bit of a wall."

  "I know you don't have much time. You probably need to get back to work. I'm happy to stay and help you, if you’d like."

  She shakes her head.

  "No?" I ask. "You don't want me to stay?"

  "No, I don't have to get back to work."
<
br />   "You don't?"

  "I don't have work to get back to. I quit my job and subleased my apartment. I'm surprised Grammie didn't tell you."

  "I think she is a little hesitant to tell me much about you," I say.

  "Except that I'm here."

  I shrug.

  "She's selective with her gossip."

  I pull Fiona closer, wanting to wrap myself around her again.

  "I would love for you to stay," she says.

  "For how long?"

  "However long you want to."

  "How about forever?"

  I lean down and touch my lips to hers, drawing her in for a kiss I want to last just as long.

  "I love you, Cade," she whispers when our lips part.

  "I love you, Fiona. I always have. I always will."

  I catch her mouth for another deep kiss, and Fiona nestles her head into me again.

  "You came back," she murmurs into my chest. "You came back for me."

  * * *

  Six months later…

  Every time I have ever thought about bridal gowns, which admittedly hasn’t been too many times in my life, they’re always white. Somehow, though, when I see the pastel pink pantsuit stepping gracefully down the aisle, it seems completely appropriate. I smile at Fiona, who grins back at me over the flowers she holds. Tears glitter in her eyes, but she's trying to hold them back. As much as she's trying, I see one slip down her cheek as she reaches out and takes the bouquet from Grammie's hand.

  Smiling brightly from beneath a sequined blusher, Grammie steps up to the altar and links her hands with Arthur's. The couple blocks my view of the maid of honor, but I lean around to catch another glimpse of her from my place standing beside the groom. The ceremony is brief, but the love and excitement in the room after Grammie and Arthur share a sweet kiss is obvious. Clasping hands, they walk down the three steps from the altar, and toward the front pew. A silver ribbon blocks the entrance to the pew, ensuring none of the guests went into it when they sat down, but it isn't empty. I can't see them from where I'm standing, but I know two display boxes are sitting on the bench. Each contains a white handkerchief embroidered with a name – Rupert on one, Jillian on the other. Grammie and Arthur pause at the pew and each draws a long-stemmed white rose from a basket sitting at the edge of the aisle. Kissing them tenderly, they rest the roses onto the handkerchiefs. There is a breathless beat as the newlyweds honor their beloveds in such a profoundly beautiful way, even as they move forward with each other.