“Definitely.” Because he might be the sweetest man I have ever met in my life. I knew that from the way he has treated me with such care since the moment we met but hearing that he has our sonogram photo framed on his desk tells me everything I need to know about him. And any lingering doubt I may have had about him wanting to be involved is long gone, because that tiny tidbit of information shows me how invested he is in our child and what kind of dad he’s going to be.

“What happened?” he asks, sliding one hand down my back while the other cups the back of my head as he holds me against his chest.

“Nothing, big guy. I’m fine.”

“Franny.”

“She just needed someone to sit with her for a minute.” I tip my head back to look up at him and meet his gaze. “Billy’s a dick, which we both already knew.”

“She told you something?”

“No, but she didn’t need to in order for me to figure that out.”

“You’re right about that.” He sighs, and then he touches his lips to my forehead.

“I think I’m going to tell my dad about the baby tomorrow,” I whisper, and his face gentles.

“Are you ready to do that?”

“Yeah, as long as you’re okay with it.”

“Do you want me there?” he asks instead of answering, and I nod… but then promptly shake my head no.

“I don’t know. If he gets upset, I don’t want him to take it out on you.”

“If there’s a chance he’s gonna be upset, I’d like to be there.” His hold on me tightens, and my throat starts to burn from his undeniable protectiveness over me.

“He’d never hurt me.”

“I know that, but I’d still like to be there.”

“All right, I’ll talk to him and Mom about having brunch tomorrow, if that works for you.”

“Yeah, that works for me.” He slides his hand up to my jaw and presses his lips to mine.

When he pulls back, all I can think is that might’ve been the sweetest kiss I’ve ever gotten.

CHAPTER 15

Francisca

There are times that painting feels like an escape from reality and other times; it feels like I’m just going through the motions. This morning, it’s the former. I’ve been up since four, sitting at the easel with my paintbrush in hand, lost in a world of pretty flowers, tiny bugs, and greenery.

But that doesn’t mean my thoughts don’t intrude every so often. How could they not, with so much going on?