“Franny,” Dayton says, but I don’t even look at him.

“I….” Mom glances over my shoulder at Dayton, and I press my lips together.

“Never mind. I’ll go find Jacob and have him drive me.”

“No one is driving you home but me,” Dayton states, and I cross my arms over my chest and turn to face him as he stands.

“I’m not getting in your car. Not when it’s apparent that you are suffering from some kind of brain trauma.”

“I don’t have a brain injury.”

“Well, then you got abducted by aliens and they did some experiment on you that made you lose touch with reality.”

“Francisca.” His jaw clenches.

Oh, he’s annoyed?

Well, so am I.

I would never get married just because it would be “smart.” Heck, I didn’t even marry Matthew because of that. And it had been smart—he checked all the boxes. He had a good job, long-term goals, a 401(k), and all the other crap that doesn’t actually matter when you are in a relationship. Still, I didn’t marry him for any of those reasons; I married him because I loved him and thought we would spend the rest of our lives together. So the fact that Dayton said he’d marry me like it was some kind of business arrangement he doesn’t want to miss out on is not only annoying—it feels like a punch to the gut.

Dragging my eyes off him, I walk around the bed to where my mom is standing and wringing her hands together. I can only imagine what’s going through her head.

“I’ll come visit tomorrow.” I give her a hug.

“Okay,” she says quietly.

Letting her go, I lean over the side of my dad’s bed. “I’m annoyed with you, but I love you.”

“I love you too.” He kisses my cheek, then adds quietly, “Take it easy on the guy.”

Of course, he’s on Dayton’s side. I know why he thinks it’d be smart for us to be married. We’re having a child, and that is what he would expect of his pregnant, unwed daughter. And although the news of my pregnancy hasn’t hit the gossip cycle amongst his and Mom’s group of friends, I’m sure when it does, most of the people they know will sit up on their high horses and judge the fact that I got pregnant out of wedlock, like they don’t live in glass houses.

Screw them.

After grabbing my bag from the dresser next to the door, I leave the bedroom and can feel Dayton right behind me as I walk down the hall.

“PJ!” I shout. I haven’t seen him for at least thirty minutes, so I have no idea where he might be hiding.

“Franny—”