Page 26 of Before You Go
I watch him walk out the door and bite my lip. Although that interaction with him went way better than the one earlier today, I can’t help but feel like things just got a whole lot more complicated.
Sliding into a parking spot near the entrance of the golf club, I put my car in park, quickly grab my bag from the passenger seat, and start digging through it. Finding a pack of chewing gum, I pop a piece in my mouth, hoping the peppermint will distract me from the nausea and the headache I’ve had since I woke up this morning. I don’t know if it will work, but anything is better than feeling like I’m hungover when I most definitely am not. Especially when I have to show up at an event for my dad because Jacob called me this morning—actually hungover—and begged me to take his spot at a golf fundraiser.
I probably wouldn’t be so bad off if I hadn’t stayed up so late with Molly, filling her in on the situation with Dayton. Plus, I was looking at possible places to rent after Matthew gets his crap together and sells our condo or buys me out—something he claims he’s working on. Something I don’t believe he’s putting much effort into.
I think he believes that if he just waits me out, we’ll get back together, and then I’ll eventually move back in.
I can’t blame him for thinking that way since I took him back each time we broke up in the past, but it’s not happening this time. It doesn’t matter how many times he shows up at my place without calling, how many times he asks me to dinner, or texts, or calls. We are done. And not just because I’m pregnant with another man’s child.
After taking a sip of water, I push open the door and get out, adjusting my pleated athletic skirt, which is a pretty lavender, and zipping up the cropped hoodie I wore over my tank top. It’s not hot right now, but in a couple of hours, the sun will be overhead, and I’ll be thankful for the piece of clothing I can remove.
Stepping into the cool interior of the clubhouse a minute later, I scan the space for my dad. It’s difficult to find him amongst the men in the room. All of them dressed the same, in khakis and polos, all of them holding a beer regardless of the fact that it’s just after eight in the morning.
Finally spotting him, I start making my way in his direction, but my steps slow when I recognize Dayton next to him, standing a few inches taller than my father and the district attorney with whom he’s speaking. Even in his polo that fits the theme in the room, the tattoos that cover his arms make him stick out like a sore—albeit sexy—thumb.
“Oh, Jacob, you owe me so huge,” I mutter under my breath as I make my way through the crowd. I don’t have any issue being around Dayton, especially after our conversation last night, but knowing that I’m keeping such a huge secret from my dad is going to make this uncomfortable for me.
My dad is the first to see me, and rather than smile like he normally would, his brows drag together as he steps away from Dayton and Billy, who both have their backs to me.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and Dayton turns my way. It’s difficult to avoid looking at him when I can physically feel his gaze on me.
“Yeah, just a little nauseous,” I tell him without thinking, then add quickly, “I chugged a protein shake on the way here.”
“You’re as bad as your mom with those shakes.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders and turns to the two men behind him. “You know Billy and Dayton.”
“I do. Hi, Mr. Chambers.” I lean up on my tiptoes to kiss Billy’s cheek, then do the same with Dayton, but his hand wraps around my side and makes contact with my skin that’s exposed from where my sweatshirt has ridden up, causing my breath to catch.
“You feel sick?” he whispers against my ear as my lips brush the edge of his jaw.
“I’m fine,” I whisper back before lowering onto my feet. Ignoring the concern I see etched into the skin around his eyes, I turn to my dad. “Are we about ready to go?”
The sooner I can get him and myself away from Dayton, the better I’ll feel.
“Are you anxious to go play?”
“No, I just want to get this over with.” There is no sense in lying. My dad knows I hate golf and that I would rather get a root canal than spend the day on the green. The only thing that ever makes the activity tolerable is drinking, and that isn’t an option for me right now in my current state, so today is going to suck for more than one reason.
“It will be fun.” He looks at Billy and Dayton. “Francisca claims to hate golf, but she played all through high school and came in at number two in the state her senior year.”
“I only played in high school so that I didn’t have to take PE, and I came in at number two because the day of the tournament, everyone had the flu,” I clarify, and they all laugh.
“Can I have everyone’s attention?” a woman in a black mini dress and ballet flats shouts, and the conversation in the room quiets as everyone turns to focus on her.
“Thank you all for coming today. As you know, this tournament was set up to help raise funds for the local chapter of the Make-A-Wish Foundation, so we appreciate you being here this morning. After the game, lunch will be held here in the restaurant, and you will all have a chance to bid during the auction as you eat.” Her smile gets brighter. “We’ve had some amazing donations this year, including a wine subscription, signed memorabilia from our local hockey team, and a vacation for two.” She scans the room. “Have fun this morning, and make sure you take your drink tickets on the way out the door.”
“I guess we can head out if you guys are ready,” Dad says, looking between Dayton and Billy. My stomach churns, either from the news that I’m going to be stuck with my dad and Dayton together all day or from this baby, who has decided that they want to make sure I haven’t forgotten their existence.
“Before we go, I’m going to use the restroom.”
“I’ll go with you,” Dayton offers.
“Sounds good. We’ll meet you two out at the golf cart,” Dad replies, walking away with Billy and obviously not finding it strange that Dayton offered to go with me.
“Are you feeling okay?” my bathroom escort asks quietly as we walk through the clubhouse toward the restrooms.
“Just nauseous.”
“I’m sorry.”
