Baby Daddy

Summer

Three days. I haven't heard from or seen Gabriel in three days. I admit, I was so pissed at him that first day. How dare he call us a distraction. But the longer I thought about it, I realized that to someone like Gabriel we are.

He's the type that sees a problem and solves it. Him going after the people that found us is easy for him. Killing is second nature to Gabriel. Showing emotions and caring for his son is not. He's not used to dealing with us.

So even though what he said hurt me, I'm no longer angry with him. I don't forgive him either though.

"How was it?"

I tune back to my date, looking over at him. When Andrew called and asked to take me to dinner and a show, I was excited. I'd never been to a play before. However, as excited as I was, I've been struggling to keep my thoughts anywhere but on Gabriel.

"It was really good. I loved the music." The music was the only thing I remembered from the show.

We walk side by side as we leave the theater. Once again, the father of my child comes back to my mind. As hurt as I am about our last conversation, I can't help but wonder if he's okay. Is he safe? Where is he sleeping? Is he sleeping?

Andrew's laughter cuts through my thoughts.

"Yeah, you should have seen it when the original cast performed it. It was incredible."

Come on, Summer. You have a good man right here. Get your head in the game. My inner thoughts are right. As much as I care about Gabriel, he chose to run. Right now, Andrew is here, and I should be paying attention to him.

"You go to a lot of shows?" I ask, putting all my focus on him.

He grins and it's adorable. "Yeah, I was a theater kid in high school."

"Cool, I used to buy pot from a theater kid in high school. He had some good stuff."

He laughs. "Man, I love your humor. You're so authentic."

I'm not sure what that means, but I guess it's a compliment.

"Thanks," I say.

We walk a little further chatting about random things. Suddenly I get the oddest feeling. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I glance over my shoulder, but no one seems to be paying attention to me. A few of the folks that caught the same show are walking behind us, but no one seems to be out of place.

"Are you okay?" Andrew asks. When I look at him, he's glancing over his shoulder too.

"Yeah, I'm good." I shake off the feeling.

"I'm not ready for the night to end," Andrew admits as we head to the Subway station.

We parked his car in a parking garage and took the train into Manhattan so we wouldn't have to worry about traffic.

"Yeah, me either. I have an idea."

"Oh really. What's that?" He smiles, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

"There's a bookstore not too far from here that has the best pastries in the city."

"Bookstore?" He looks a little surprised.

"Yep, and the owner is really nice."

The smile that slipped a little earlier comes back. "Okay, show me the bookstore."

I take him to Books and More. When we walk in, Malia is there and leaning against the counter is a handsome man with dark brown hair and tattoos. He's in a black T-shirt and dark pants. He turns to look at us when we walk in but quickly turns back to Malia. He looks identical to Malia's boyfriend, but also very different, which is weird.

He says something that makes her blush. He then leans over the counter to give her a kiss that has my toes curling. Well maybe it is her boyfriend and he's just dressed differently. Either that or Malia is fucking twin brothers and if that's the case, she deserves a medal.

The guy wipes her lips after he's done kissing her, he then turns away and walks out of the shop. He walked right by us without glancing in our direction.

"What's the best thing here?" Andrew asks, regaining my attention.

We walk up to the counter together.

"Hey, Summer," Malia says with a smile as she looks over to Andrew. "Who is this?"

"Malia, this is Andrew. He's a…. friend."

"Nice to meet you." Andrew holds out a hand to shake with Malia. She shakes his hand before turning back to me.

"Where's my baby tonight?"

"Gabe is spending the night with Trina. She wanted an excuse to go see the new Disney movie." I say playfully rolling my eyes.

Malia laughs. She's used to Trina's antics. "I have to get him over to the house to hang with Emory soon," she says.

"We can set something up at the next Sunday story time," I add.

"Great. Now what can I get for you two?"

"I was told you had the best pastries around so, I'm excited to try something," Andrew says stepping closer to me.

We ordered two apple turnovers; I got her raspberry lemonade and Andrew got tea. We then found a seat near the window.

"Are you close friends with the shop owner?" He asks as soon as I take my seat across from him.

"Kind of. I come here every Sunday, and our kids adore each other."

He nods before taking a bite out of his apple turnover. His eyes immediately shut, and he moans.

"Good, right?"

He nods his head vigorously while opening his eyes. "Best I've ever had."

"I told you. Malia can't be touched when it comes to baked goods." Every chance I get I tell someone new about her shop.

"Tell me, Summer. What do you do in your spare time?"

We were at this stage of dating where we got to know the deeper details of each other's personal lives. It's my second least favorite part of dating, right after the initial get to know each other conversation.

"I make jewelry."

His brows nearly reach his hairline. I'm guessing that shocked him. "Really? That's cute."

The cute comment makes me grimace a little. "Yeah, I'm pretty good at it. My online shop nearly sales out every few weeks. I have my products in three local boutiques that I have to restock at least once a month."

"Not a bad way to make a little cash," he goes on to say taking another bite of his turnover.

"It pays the bills," which is only partially true. Gabriel pays the bills. But if I had to pay bills, my jewelry income could cover most of my bills.

I don't know why I'm feeling so defensive. He hasn't said anything negative. I just don't like the way he keeps referring to my business as small or cute.

"I thought your child's father left you that house?"

This time it's my brows that reach for my hairline. "Who told you that?"

He shrugs. "Your friend, Trina. She wanted to assure me that you were indeed not a gold digger and that you didn't need my money because your child's father left you a house and a car."

I shake my head. Even though my friend was only trying to look out for me, I'm not sure how I felt about her revealing that information.

"He did," I admit. "But it doesn't mean I don't have bills."

He holds up his hands in a surrender posture with a grin. "You're right, and I didn't mean to offend you. I think it's great the father of your child had the hindsight to take care of you. Many men don't do that. But it makes it easier for the mother to only have to worry about taking care of the child. Because of his forethought, you get to make pretty necklaces."

"Yeah," I say with a forced smile. I turn away from Andrew and glance out the window. This is the reason my dates are usually short lived. Sometimes I think I'm being too picky considering my past.

While I chew on my bottom lip, a tall figure across the street moves. There is a small coffee shop sitting on the corner across the street. Leaning against the light pole is a hooded figure that seems to be staring at me through the window. I lean forward, squinting my eyes.

"Is someone out there?" Andrew asks.

I turn to look at him. "I think there's someone…." My words die on my tongue when I look back out the window and the person is no longer there.

Did my conscious just make up an image of Gabriel out of the blue? I mean, he isn't the only tall wide-shouldered person in the world, but the fluttering feeling I get in my belly is only caused by one person. And the way my stomach immediately started to react after seeing that shadow makes me think maybe my eyes aren't playing games.

But if it was someone, they couldn't disappear that fast. Could they?

I turn back to Andrew, who is glancing out the window moving his head around trying to see what I saw.

"It's nothing," I say.

He turns back to me and smiles. We finish our pastries and head to the house.

The car ride back to my home is silent. Unlike most of the night, I wasn't in the mood to talk. I guess Andrew picked up on it.

"I'm sorry," he says, pulling my attention from the window.

I turn to look at his profile.

"I know what I said at the bookstore came off insensitive. I didn't mean to suggest that your business was something small. The things that you've accomplished are downright incredible, Summer. Especially with being a recovering addict. I'd love to see some of your pieces. I bet they're gorgeous."

For the first time since leaving Malia's, I relax a little. I appreciate his apology and for acknowledging his earlier statements were demeaning. Andrew has proven time and time again that he is worth me giving him the attention he deserves. I've finally found a guy that I actually like.

"Thank you," I say. "And you're in luck. I have some finished pieces in the house."

"I can't wait to see them. Tell me about your jewelry."

For the next ten minutes, I explain my process of making jewelry to Andrew. I discuss how I pick and purchase the stones and what each one represents. I even explain the intricate details of molding and blending polymer clay to make different designs. He listens intently and asks questions. By the time we pull into my neighborhood, I'm excited to show him my work.

"I can't wait to see the obsidian men's bracelet." Andrew says as we turn the corner toward my house.

"You're going to love it. It's masculine without being so over the top..." my words fade as I take in the figure standing on my doorstep. My heart immediately starts racing.

Three days have gone by without seeing this man, and the moment my eyes land on him a feeling of peace washes over me.

"Do you know him?" Andrew asks, but I don't answer because something is off.

I quickly open my door and slide out.

"Summer, wait," Andrew calls out to me.

I, in fact, do not wait. Instead, I rush up the stairs.

"Oh my god, Gabriel," I call out as I get a better view of him.

His black hoodie is covered in something wet. After glancing down at the dark red stains on his jeans, I'm assuming it's blood on the hoodie. He has a new red scar over his eye and his knuckles look like he's been in a battle with a brick wall.

"I'm sorry," he says as he stares down at me. I don't know what he's apologizing for. My concern right now is making sure none of this blood is his.

"Is that blood?" I had no idea Andrew followed me out the car.

I turn around to find him standing behind me.

"No. It's paint." I say quickly even though it doesn't look anything like paint. I turn back to Gabriel trying to see if there are any injuries on his large body.

He cups my face with his bloody hands, those gorgeous eyes seem in so much pain. "I'm sorry." He says again. "You're not a distraction. Neither is Gabe."

I had already come to terms with why Gabriel said what he said. Hearing him apologize does mend my hurt feelings, but seeing the pained and frazzled look in his eyes as he pleads with me to forgive him, has me folding like a cheap lawn chair.

"It's okay. I forgive you."

He shuts his eyes, and his shoulders drop as if a weight has been lifted off them.

"Summer, maybe we should call the cops," Andrew says behind me.

In his defense, if I would have pulled up to his house and a woman was standing on the front porch in blood-soaked clothes looking like she's been to hell and back, I'd have the same response.

"No, everything is fine," I try to make the situation a little less awkward. "He's an artist."

The look Andrew gives me tells me he's not buying the shit I'm trying to sell. He takes a step toward me, grabbing my arm in a gentle way as if he's trying to pull me away.

However, before I can advise him against touching me right now, Gabriel grabs his arm, twists it around his back and has him in a rear naked choke hold. Something I only know about because Mr. James and Trina host MMA fight nights at their house.

Andrew's glasses are skewed on his reddening face. He tries to gasp for help but can't quite get the words out.

"Gabriel, it's okay. Let him go."

Gabriel's green eyes narrow, but his hold on Andrew does not relinquish.

"Please, let him go."

This time, he releases Andrew and steps back. Andrew bends at the waist fighting to breathe. I step forward to help him, but Gabriel's growled "Don't" has me stepping back.

"Take slow deep breaths," I encourage Andrew.

He glares at me. "Who is this guy?" he asks in a raspy voice.

"This is Gabriel, my son's father."

Never has someone's face gone from anger to pure horror and shock in such a short time.

"Summer, I think—"

"Leave," Gabriel warns, stepping forward.

It doesn't take more than that for Andrew to rush down my steps. He goes so fast he completely misses the last one nearly face planting on the ground. He quickly gets his feet back under him and rushes to the car. He pulls out of my driveway so fast the tires make a screeching sound and the smell of burnt rubber assails my nostrils.

"Well, I guess it's safe to say I won't get another date with him," I say before turning back to Gabriel.

However, I don't find that miniscule smile I normally get when I usually make an ill-timed joke. Instead, that sadness is back in his eyes.

"Come on," I say, heading to the front door and opening it for him to enter.

He follows me to my bedroom. I open the door and turn on the light before kicking my heels off.

"Sit," I point to the bench at the foot of my bed.

I continue into the bathroom to grab my first aid kit out of the cabinet along with a soapy warm rag. I carry my things back out to the room. I place the objects on the bench beside him, before kneeling between his legs.

"Is any of this yours?" I ask looking over his hoodie.

He shakes his head.

"Jeez, Gabriel. What did you do?" I unzip his hoodie and push the fabric off his shoulders and down his arms.

"Bar fight," he says.

I shake my head. "You mean to tell me, for the last three days you've just been picking fights?"

When I glance up at him, he's staring at me, but he doesn't answer.

Knowing I won't get any more answers from him about that, I let out a deep breath. Pulling the hoodie further off him, I drop it to the floor. "Take off the shirt," I say next.

He quickly removes the shirt handing it to me. I toss it with his hoodie. When I turn back to him, I notice something new. A tattoo of the number 50 written in thick old English. I was about to ask him about it when something else catches my eye. Actually, it's a lot of something else.

I didn't get a close-up look at his body the night we met. However, I was not ready for the thick and thin lines of scars all over his torso and arms.

My finger runs across a thick scar on his chest right above the tattoo over his heart. It's about two fingers thick and is the length of my hand. The way the skin has healed and stretched leads me to believe it's a very old wound.

Although he has never told me much detail about his childhood, I've been able to put pieces together. The fact that when he goes into this dark place to kill, he allows his mother to take over his thoughts is a huge sign that something was wrong.

Seeing the pale lines makes my heart ache for the small boy with beautiful green eyes that must have endured pure hell to get these. Gabriel's mother didn't only abuse him mentally, she fucked him over physically as well.

Suddenly, Gabriel's large hand covers mine. When I look back up at him, he uses the same hand to wipe the tears off my face.

"They're old," he tells me. "Don't cry over them."

Everything I know about him tells me he's not one for pity. Plus, he doesn't need it. So, I do exactly as he asks. I tuck my chin to my chest, and then wipe my eyes.

"Are you sure you're not injured anywhere," I ask as I go back to looking over his body.

"You don't have to do this."

I roll my eyes, "Shut up, and show me your injuries."

He smirks and shakes his head, before showing me his hands.

"It looks like you punched a wall," I say, grabbing the wet cloth, I run it over his knuckles cleaning the blood off.

"I did."

I glance up at him. His serious face tells me he isn't joking.

"You can't do that, Gabriel. You can't beat yourself up when you're struggling with your feelings."

I knew what this was. I've seen it with Gabe. Although my son usually stims or cries when he's dealing with things. It seems his father's go to is self-harm.

"I need an outlet," he replies. "I have to….. funnel the rage somewhere."

"Pick up a hobby. Try knitting, or hiking. Hell, fuck it out of your system. Just don't do this shit again," I angrily toss the towel to the bench before looking for the ointment I use for Gabe's cuts.

"I'm sorry." He says lowly.

I sigh. "It's okay. Just do better next time."

We're silent again as I rub the cream over his knuckles. Once I'm finished cleaning him up, I place all my first aid stuff back in the box and carry it back to the bathroom.

"Do you like him?"

I startle when his words come from behind me suddenly. I turn to find a still shirtless Gabriel leaning against the open door.

"Who?" I ask, even though I know exactly who he is talking about.

"The psychologist."

Folding my arms over my chest I lean against the sink. "How do you know he's a psychologist?"

The look Gabriel gives me has me chuckling. I don't even know why I asked that question. Dropping my arms down at my side, I shrug.

"He's nice. He's interested in me. And he seems to get my jokes."

"But do you like him?"

I look away from Gabriel, gathering my thoughts. It's not that I don't like Andrew. He's handsome, successful, makes me feel excited, and a great catch. But as always there is something missing between us. Just like it was with all the other guys I went out with. I don't know what it is.

"You know what it is. You just don't want to admit it."My thoughts scream in my head.

"He's okay," I say, finally answering Gabriel. "I can't be too picky. It's not like I have a bunch of options beating at my door." I laugh, before tucking a braid behind my ear.

He's silent for a moment, watching me as if he can read every thought that runs through my mind. I ignore the way my heart races and the fluttery feeling in the pit of my stomach when he looks at me.

"Why don't you?"

I scoff, shaking my head. "Did you forget how we met?" his brows knit together as if he's confused, or he finally remembered. "You couple that with the fact that I'm a single mother, and well, I'm just not at the top of anyone's list."

He's quiet again, watching me. "Fuck their lists."

"Easy for you to say. You have no desire to be in a relationship. I, however, want to be in love. I want to have someone to wake up to every morning and go to sleep with at night. I want to dance in my kitchen, I want to watch sunsets, I want someone to bring me tea without me asking." I turn my back to him, facing the mirror at the sink. I pull my braids out of the half up and half down style I put them in.

"I know it sounds crazy, but I want the type of love that is written about. The kind that inspires others. I want him to not just understand me, but to know my past, know how it shaped me, but don't hold it against me."

I think that is why all my other dates never fully connected. Half of the time I didn't tell them about who I once was, and the few that I did kept saying things like, you're not her anymore and you've moved on. Yes, I'm no longer on drugs but I will always be a recovering addict. My years on drugs may not have been pretty, but they shaped who I was.

"Despite what people may think," I say, finishing my thoughts. "I am capable of love. And one day I'm going to find the right person to show it to."

I turn to face him again. His hands are balled into fists at his side as he silently stares at me.

"When I do, I'll let you walk me down the aisle at my wedding," I joke to ease the tension.

He tilts his head, his brow arches. "Not unless you want to see what the inside of your groom's skull looks like."

I toss my head back and laugh. "You wouldn't dare."

When I glance back at him, he isn't laughing.

"Fine," I tease. "You don't have to walk me down the aisle. You can sit in the back with all the other last-minute guests."

"Won't change the outcome," he states.

"You're so full of shit," I chuckle rolling my eyes.

I don't take these little comments with Gabriel seriously. Do I believe he could kill my groom? Yes. But I won't fool myself into believing he's jealous or that he's saying this because he wants me. He has no idea what he wants, and in the end he will still leave.

"Alright, you're going to shower while I make some popcorn and queue up Game of Thrones. You're not climbing in my bed with all that blood on you."

For a second, he looks as if he's going to argue with me. I know I have no reason allowing him to sleep in the bed with me. But hell, I'm not getting dick. The least I can do is wake up in the strong arms of a man. A girl can dream.

Eventually Gabriel dips his chin at me. I smile as I walk out of the bathroom.