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Right now, I needed to grab some lunch and get ready for Hurricane Archie to arrive. I left the studio, locking it up behind me and then circled the swimming pool and crossed to the patio leading into the house.
“Da!” Charlie said as I came inside. He hustled away from Jeremy and Miss Abigail at speed. I caught him racing forward, head first. He was as bad as Josh at charging at things.
“Hey, little man,” I said, setting him on my hip as I gave him an inspection. “You’re a mess.”
“Paint with Gandpa.” He showed me his fingers. It looked like he’d dipped each one into a different color. There were flakes drying on his cheeks and more than a little in his hair.
“So, who was doing the painting, you or Grandpa Jere?”
Jeremy snorted softly. “I’m afraid young Mr. Charlie took to finger painting so well, he thought it would be better to be foot painting.” The amusement in his droll voice softened any kind of reprimand. “I was going to put him in the bath and see if we could scrub him up before his nap.”
Charlie hugged my neck. “No bah!”
“Yes, bath,” I told him. “Grandpa is right and you should listen.” I tickled his foot after I caught it to check the layers of paint on them. “Where is this masterpiece?”
“Thankfully, in the garage. I’d thought we’d experiment away from anything that could be permanently stained.” Jeremy crossed to me. “Come along, Mr. Charlie. Bath time.”
“No bah.” Charlie pouted and gave me the most soulful look. While he had his mother’s eyes, he absolutely had his father’s playfulness and he could not hold that expression for long. “Pwease?”
“Bath first. We’ll play more later, but you have to be good for Grandpa.”
With a huff of a complaint, Charlie went to Jeremy, who carried him up the stairs with Miss Abigail following. Speaking of dogs, I went over to check the yard. Maxie and Murray were snoozing in the sun.
Might take them out for a run with Archie when he got here. It would do all of us some good. For now, I got lunch put together. Jeremy always fixed something if Frankie was home. Since I didn’t necessarily eat on a schedule when I had studio time, I just grabbed a sandwich or reheated leftovers.
The first time I’d done that, Jeremy had seemed pretty cross. The second, he’d given me the longest stare before excusing himself. On the third occasion, we had a chat about it. It had nothing to do with liking or disliking his food, I loved it.
But when I was in the space to write or work, I pretty much focused on that to the exclusion of all else. It was just easier for me to breeze in, grab food and breeze out again. When it came to Frankie or the kids, I made time, otherwise…
With all of that in mind, I pulled out the sandwich makings and built two subs. Even if Archie didn’t eat his, Frankie might like it for a midnight snack. I chuckled, those hadn’t started yet. But they were coming.
The fact Jeremy had already begun to restock the frozen yogurt pops she loved told me he was getting ready for it too. I’d just put the food on the table and gotten out a couple of sodas when the door from the garage opened and then shut.
“Frankie…” Archie called as he strode through the living room. I tracked the sound of his path before he stuck his head in the dining room where I was sitting just off the kitchen. “Hey Bubba, I need to talk to Frankie. Be right back.”
I opened my mouth then closed it again as he took off. Jake wasn’t wrong. I’d seen that panic before. I’d seen it in Jake’s and Coop’s eyes and I’d seen it in my own. Our love for the kids did not rest on whose genetics they carried. At the same time, there seemed to be a special kind of hell for those of us who were the biological father.
Granted, my panic came closer to the end of the second trimester. So had Coop’s and Jake’s… Made sense, we hadn’t gotten the test results until then. We did the genetic testing just to be on the safe side for everyone. If there was a chance of something being wrong with the babies, we wanted to know.
This was the first time we were certain without a test. Archie had been the only one not using a condom and we had been actively trying to go for one more. We were going to vote after this pregnancy whether we wanted to do more or not.
I felt for the guy. No wonder he was panicking now. I’d just finished a bite of my sandwich and popped open the can when he reappeared in the doorway. Still dressed in his overalls for working on the engine and in work boots, Archie looked about as blue collar as he ever could.
“She’s not here…”
“Nope.” I saluted him with the soda. “Made you lunch.”
“Where the hell is she? Is something wrong?” He was patting his pockets. “I’ll call her…”
“Arch,” I said his name a little more firmly. “Come sit down. She’s at Standish in meetings all day with your dad and the accountants and the board of the foundation. They are getting ready to do this year’s awards.”
One hand on his breast pocket and the other on his back, Archie stared at me. His mouth opened then closed, before it popped open again.
“It’s all good, man. Come sit down. Eat, have a drink, and we’ll talk.” I kept everything as calm and soothing as possible. It was kind of like dealing with a wild animal, there was still a lot of white on display around his eyes.
“You’re talking to me like I’m freaking out.” He managed to sound worried and a little insulted at the same time. “Why?”
“Because you’re freaking out.” I leaned back in the chair and let him chew on that.
