All I Need: Rod & Daisy (All Of Me Duet Book 2) Page 3

  We descend the stairs to a quiet and empty living room. With my entire family here, it’s the last thing I expected.

  “Where is everyone?” He voices the question in my head.

  “I’m not sure. My sister will be here tonight, so it’s not like they all left.” I chuckle as I turn the corner and walk into the kitchen. “Ah, they’re all around the pool, enjoying Naples’s warm weather.”

  We keep walking, winding around to the den where the bar sits in the far corner. “Everything you could possibly want is in those cabinets. Feel free to rummage through them and don’t worry about taking the last of anything. There’s always a store open around here with more.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to join me? I’d make an excellent bartender.”

  He has no idea how badly I’d love to have a few shots right now to take the edge off, but I literally can’t. “No, thanks. But don’t let me stop you.”

  After he finds the top shelf bourbon, he pours double shots into two glasses. Peer pressure doesn’t bother me, but questions do. Especially ones I don’t have answers to yet. I’m racking my brain to figure out how many weeks pregnant I am. My method of birth control makes it difficult to keep up with my cycles. There has to be some way I can figure out this little math problem before I lose my mind.

  When I was pregnant with Landen, every scent made me nauseous, even the ones I previously loved. Will it be the same this time? Will the sweet aromatic scent of bourbon be a trigger for me? Now I’ll be on edge all the time, waiting for the hammer to fall and send me rushing to the nearest toilet. What a wonderful Christmas present for me.

  This will make for a very long visit—constantly waiting for the unknown to present itself, preparing lies to cover my tracks, and keeping this secret from everyone I love.

  “Are you sure you don’t want one of these? You seem a little stressed yourself.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He downs one shot glass after the other, gulping them as quickly as he can. Just as he finishes another, Kevin and Tracy join us.

  “I don’t usually drink the strong stuff, but I’m making an exception today.” Rod swirls the amber liquid around in his glass before tossing it back.

  If I had the option, I would drink the rest of the bottle and leave him high and dry.

  “Pour us one too, bartender.” Kevin slides onto the bar stool on one side of me and Tracy takes the other. “Nine times out of ten, I’d take the bourbon away from you. Today, I think we both need it.”

  “Yes, I can definitely use a good, stiff drink.” Tracy nudges me with her elbow. “Where’s yours? Do we need to make you a fruity frozen concoction instead?”

  “No, thank you. Even though I know you’re making fun of me. I’m good. I don’t want anything to drink tonight.”

  Her smile fades from her face and her soul-penetrating stare takes its place. She’s reading my mind again, like she always does. I never have to tell her my secrets. She usually knows them before I do. Her signature suspicious expression changes before my eyes, becoming one that’s unreadable instead.

  Shit. She knows.

  Rod pushes her shot glass in front of her, then pours Kevin’s. While he’s busy playing bartender, Tracy mutters under her breath, so only I can hear her.

  “Fucking hell, Daisy.”

  I nod. My sentiments exactly.

  “Fertile Myrtle.”

  A fake coughing fit hides my outburst of laughter. After all the times she’s made fun of me for my “Southern-isms,” as she calls them, her timing to use one on me couldn’t be better. Or worse.

  “Are you okay, Daisy?” Kevin, ever thoughtful, is genuinely concerned about me. Then I realize all eyes are on me, and I have to change their focus as soon as possible.

  “I’m fine. I have a little known talent I don’t tell too many people about. You know how jealous people can get. But I can actually choke on nothing but air. It’s a gift, really. One I should charge people for the sheer pleasure of seeing.”

  A round of laughter is what the doctor ordered, because the conversation resumes, no longer focused on my gaffe.

  “Daisy, before I forget with everything else happening, I made a couple of calls before we left home. I hope your family doesn’t mind, but I’ve hired a guy to play Santa. He’ll deliver the presents and leave pictures of himself for the kids. Maybe we can pose him with the cookies and milk, leaving presents under the tree, and standing at the fireplace.” Rod steps in front of me, sipping on a three-finger tumbler of bourbon rather than taking more shots. I can’t stop watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows or when he speaks.

  It’s mesmerizing, just like his blue eyes and black hair.

  Then I realize he’s still waiting for an answer.

  “That’s a great idea. I’ll tell them when they come in, but I can’t imagine anyone would object. They’ll probably want their pictures made with Santa.”

  “For what?” His confused expression is too adorable.

  “To use for making the kids mind all year. That’s proof they’re friends with Santa and have a direct line to him.”

  “That. Is. Genius. Now I want my picture made with him too.” Rod laughs, but the wheels in his mind are turning.

  “Why would you need it?” Tracy asks the question I couldn’t bring myself to pose.

  Rod proceeds to tell us about the conversation he and Juliana had about him taking permanent custody of Isa. Knowing Juliana will be in the hospital for weeks at a time, and even longer when she’s finally able to have the transplant, the arrangement makes sense on paper. It’s much more difficult in real life when a child misses her mommy and doesn’t understand why she can’t see her for long stretches of time.

  I make a mental note to fill my parents in on the entire situation. Not that they’d say anything purposely to hurt anyone, but even innocent questions during this uncertain time could cause both Juliana and Rod unnecessary pain. Plus, my parents are so soft-hearted, they’d be crushed if they learned they’d said the wrong thing at the wrong time.

  Another part of me is curious what Rod thinks about being fully responsible for Isa. In the back of his mind, he’s probably thinking it’s the simplest solution for a temporary problem. But if anything were to happen to Juliana before a successful transplant, that interim arrangement becomes a permanent way of life. For all intents and purposes, Rod would become Isa’s father. I’m not convinced he’s fully realized the potential ramifications yet.

  “Rod, the father. Even though you told me this earlier, I still can’t picture it, man. You’re a great uncle, but taking on the role of daddy doesn’t quite fit your style, does it? Maybe you should let Daisy take Isa instead. There’s no telling what you’d teach that poor little girl. The best and worst pickup lines in the world. Where shady men hang out and how to spot them. How to get rid of a one-night stand. Those skills aren’t exactly kid friendly. Maybe save those for when she’s an older teenager.” Kevin and Tracy chuckle on either side of me. Normally, I’d join them in the Rod roast, but this hits a little too close to home today.

  “Aren’t you just a hilarious fucker? First, as soon as Juliana is well, she’ll take the guardianship back, so technically I won’t have time to be a father officially. Second, this arrangement will only last a few months, at the most, so my life won’t actually change that much. I babysit for Jules all the time as it is. Third, Juliana won’t be away the entire time. Just like the over the past couple of months, she’ll be in and out of the hospital. We’ll manage the same way we always have. We’ll call her every day and visit her when we’re allowed. Isa will spend the night with Uncle Rod for an extended time, but her mother isn’t abandoning her forever.” His words are resolute, but his expression tells another story.

  “Rod, as much as I hate to say this, you have to consider the alternatives. I was only joking just now about you not being father material. Juliana didn’t make this decision lightly. She did it so she’d have peace of mind
if her condition takes a turn for the worse and she can’t recover, but she also trusts you implicitly. Don’t tell Juliana you’re already looking forward to the day you can give Isa back to her and move on with your life. That sounds as though her daughter is cramping your style. She needs more support now than she’s ever needed before.” Kevin leans on the bar, stressing his point to Rod. “You have to face reality with this, man.”

  Kevin could easily give me the same advice right now. I’m pretending I didn’t receive a phone call that changed my life in a split second, in more ways than one. I’m a match for Juliana. My bone marrow could save her life and end her battle with this disease for good. But I’m pregnant with her niece or nephew, so she can’t have the transplant until the baby is born without finding another match. She’s more likely to win the lottery than she is to find a second match so soon.

  What if she doesn’t live long enough for the baby to arrive? What if she dies before then because she doesn’t receive the healthy bone marrow? Every day until my delivery date, she must continue the grueling chemotherapy treatment that leaves her sick, makes her hair fall out, and zaps her energy after the simplest task. She’s losing precious time with her daughter and second guessing every medical decision she makes. I can’t begin to imagine the stress she’s under.

  Or how she’d feel knowing one word from me could alleviate all of it.

  If I wasn’t pregnant, we would prepare for a life-changing—or, I should say, lifesaving—event for her and Isa. We could throw a pre-transplant party and invite all our friends. Juliana wouldn’t have to sign over custody of her daughter for too long. I’m sure she still would, though, since a bone marrow transplant is extremely risky business. Then I wouldn’t have to tell Rod my little secret, especially right now when his life is going up in flames all around him.

  “My best friend and I need some girl time, far away from the boys. Come on, Daisy. You and I are going for a walk around the neighborhood while your parents are spoiling their grandson.” Tracy stands and motions for me to get up.

  “Some fresh air would do us good. You and I haven’t taken a long stroll around the block together in a long time, have we?” I can’t help but tease her a little. She isn’t exactly inconspicuous with her out-of-the-blue request.

  “No, we haven’t, and it is long overdue. Come on. It’s time for an episode of walking Miss Daisy.”

  Rod looks as though he wants to object to our leaving his impromptu drinking party but decides against fighting with Tracy.

  “Don’t worry, Rod. I won’t keep her out long. She’s looking a little peaked, anyway. I think she needs a nap as much as Juliana and Isa.” Tracy scrutinizes my face with her eyebrows scrunched and her head tilted to the side.

  “Are you okay, Daisy? Now that Tracy mentioned it, you do seem a little out of sorts.” Rod’s concern will be my undoing.

  “I’ll be fine. You two don’t need to worry about me.”

  The moment we step outside the house and away from prying ears, Tracy rounds on me, hands on her hips, eyes burning into mine, and her lips forming a thin line. “Spill it. How long have you known?”

  “How did you know?”

  “The only time I’ve seen you with that terrified expression on your face was when you found out you were pregnant with Landen. You wore that look the entire pregnancy. I half expected him to come out with the same expression on his face.”

  “I just found out today.” We walk down the street and I recount the entire conversation for her—with the nurse and the one I’ve had in my head about whether I should keep the baby, along with all the reasons I should and shouldn’t.

  “You know I’ll support you whatever you decide.” We walk around the corner in silence, both absorbing everything the only way we know how. “Daisy, has Rod even tried to make up for being a complete asshole after the last time you two bumped uglies on the floor?”

  “He called me, drunk as hell, asking me to give him another chance to prove he’s worth all the trouble he has caused. He also said he didn’t want to share me with anyone else, and that he wanted me all to himself. But his revelation was the alcohol talking. He isn’t capable of saying any of that to me sober. Why should I believe him when he’s out of control?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because alcohol loosens the ties that bind the tongue, leaving it free to confess what’s really in the heart. I think he meant those things he said more than even he realizes yet.”

  “An emotionally repressed man-child is not my idea of the perfect partner in life. Can you imagine raising a child with him?” I’m grasping at anything that’ll get me out of telling him the truth.

  “Me, personally? No. That would never happen. I’d kill him first. But you’re much more patient and forgiving than I am.”

  “Is that a polite way of saying I put up with his shit when I shouldn’t?” I arch an eyebrow in her direction, causing her to laugh.

  “No, that’s not what I meant at all. We have different tastes and expectations. You actually care about what makes people tick and want to help them. I expect everyone to figure their own shit out and not depend on me to do it for them.”

  “That is very true, except when it comes to me. You go out of your way to help me with everything and anything. You always have.” I wrap my arm around her waist as we slowly stroll down the street.

  “And I always will. That’ll never change. You’re the only sister I have in the world.” She wraps her arm around me, and I lay my head over on her shoulder. Not once has it ever mattered that our skin color isn’t the same. Our bond is as tight as the one I have with Marlee. “I know you’re scared, and you’re worried about everyone and everything except yourself. I’ll do all the worrying about you since I know you won’t.”

  “What’s the right path to take? Tell me what to do, Tracy. Make the choice for me.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, babe. You have to follow your own heart.”

  Even though I know she’s right, I just want someone else to make the best decision so I don’t have to. My brain is tired already from turning cartwheels, and this little problem has only just begun.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Rod

  Aside from my unexpected and brief panic episode when we arrived yesterday, I’ve felt surprisingly relaxed and comfortably at home with the Nash family. I didn’t realize how badly I needed this break until I got here. No family is perfect, I fully realize that. But being in the midst of this enormous gathering of affectionate people, I recognize how much they love and depend on each other. No one person carries the weight alone—the rest of the family would never allow that to happen.

  I want that for Juliana, Isa, and myself.

  This is the first time I can remember wanting to surround myself with an enormous, extended family since my mother died. A few friends, along with my sister and niece, are all I’ve cared about since that day. Watching the interactions between parents, siblings, and cousins in this house full of love has shown me what I’ve closed myself off to having all these years.

  My unexpected revelation is all thanks to Daisy. Because she was kind enough to invite me when I didn’t deserve her thoughtfulness, I’ve experienced something I thought was found only in fiction. I would’ve remained locked away in a purgatory of my own making, especially at this time of year when old nightmares haunt me the most. I hope the idyllic memories we’re making now will replace the terrible ones I’ve held on to for far too long.

  Watching Daisy laugh and tease her family members has stirred the feelings I’ve tried to repress. They aren’t gentle nudges or soft whispers in my ear anymore. They’re deafening shouts, demanding I correct the mistakes I’ve made and tell her exactly how I feel about her before it’s too late. Maybe I’m reading her signs wrong, but she seems to be warming up to me again.

  “Rod, do you want a refill on that drink?” She offers to take my glass with an outstretched hand.

  Or maybe she’s just being an excellent hos
tess and I’m wishful daydreaming.

  She helped her mother clean the kitchen after the masses descended on the food like a bunch of vultures. I’m still sitting at the kitchen table, though everyone else has moved into the den, Chelle included. Like a creepy stalker, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off Daisy all day. This corner seat offers the best view in the house.

  “No, thank you. I’m finished.”

  I push back from the table, walk directly toward her with a predatory swagger in my step, and watch her eyes grow wider the closer I get. She can read my thoughts, though I’m not exactly trying to hide what’s on my mind. She walks backward until her back hits the sink and cranes her neck to look up at me. When I reach around her to rinse my glass, I intentionally trap her between my arms. She inhales sharply before her breaths become ragged, her chest heaving to keep up with the rapid pace.

  Electricity ignites fire in my veins when I intentionally brush my fingertips along her arm before placing the glass in the dishwasher. Déjà vu hits me hard, along with the sense I felt when I first met her. Somehow, someway, she and I are connected in a profound way. It’s the same sensation that makes me feel her presence before I see her face. The feeling we’re linked by some unseen force that keeps pushing us together.

  “Thank you again for inviting me to have Christmas with you. You have an amazing family. I may just stay here and move in with your parents. They’d adopt me, I’m sure of it.”

  “I think you’re right. Mom was bragging about how you helped her cook breakfast this morning before most of the house was awake. Now Dad’s trying to figure out how to wake you early every day so he doesn’t have to cook.” We move to the table, taking a seat beside each other.

  “I can see him now, sneaking around my bedroom door, lightly knocking on it, then running back to his room. He’s probably up there right now setting the alarm to wake me at six in the morning, then he’ll play dumb about it tomorrow.”