A/N: you guys seriously worry me sometimes with the things you say about your families and your boyfriends and stuff. I hope this chapter title doesn't make you feel super shitty, and if it does, tell me and I'll change it

Also, this chapter is dedicated to Deidra (theprincehalle) because she made me two beautiful covers which I love! (that one is the first one) Make sure you check out her work, because she's phenomenal!

Chapter 34: Sour as a Divorce

Back when I was in high school, I hadn't known how much my father's approval had meant to me until I lost it in the worst way possible.

A lot of people take for granted what their parents give them. I don't mean the material things, but things like pride and love and faith.

My father had never been the emotional type. He liked to keep private, and basically only smiled at my mother. He never let Archer or I know when he liked what we did. The only giveaway was the fact that he didn't say anything.

But when he didn't like what we did?

God, that was another story.

In fact, that story was so long that it ended in me being disowned and tossed out of my own house. The only reason I made it out without killing myself was because of Clark. I owed him so much.

I don't know how to make what my father had done seem justifiable, because it was pretty fucked up. But, I'll be honest: I hadn't exactly been a...golden child. Far from it.

In fact, let's just hover under the assumption that the only reason I had gone to public school, despite my family's grand fortune, was because they had kicked me out of Claudius' Grammar School for Boys. And that was even with the substantial donation my father bestowed upon them each year.

Get me now?

I had been a fucked up kid.

I had come home high and clutching a bottle of scotch at around midnight the night my father decided he had had enough of me. He had told me that if I didn't buck up and get my act together, I should damn well be sure to never show my face around him ever again. He had told me that if I didn't start working with him to get ready for my inheritance, then I was dead to him.

So I told him that I was already six feet under, and I walked out.

I shouldn't have lost my temper. I shouldn't have acted like an idiot. I shouldn't have started smoking. I shouldn't have done a lot of things that I did, but I think the one thing I did right was making that stupidly wonderful bakery my hangout place.

And most days I would see the small girl with the big smile allow customers to use her as a welcome mat, and I would want to march in there and fucking shout at every single heartless bastard who tried to cheat their way into saving a couple of quid.

The day I finally did march in was the day I decided to quit smoking, and without the subdued effect it gave me, I couldn't ignore when that woman was bothering Lottie.

And I was perfectly okay with that, because I would gladly give all the shit I used to be into just to be able to make Lottie this happy with my mere presence. Before her, I had thought nobody would ever really want me. That nobody needed me in their lives and that I was better off staying away.

But a girl named Charlotte Carter changed that.

I lowered the roses from my nose because they tickled, and I smiled at Lottie. I wanted to laugh, because she looked so surprised that I thought her eyes would pop out. I shuffled forward and leant down. "Hey Lottie," I said.

It took all of one second for realisation to hit her, and her gaping mouth closed into a thousand-watt smile that I swear to God was filled with so much happiness that I almost spontaneously combusted on the spot. She made this cutesie wee shriek-squeak-squeal sound thing and then clapped her hands on her mouth, her big eyes shining with tears.

I frowned. "Wait, why are you crying? Don't cry. Don't cry, okay? This is supposed to be happy."

"Ben," she said, her voice muffled under her hands. "I'm...I want to hug you. Is it okay if I hug you? Because I really want to, and I'm going to do it anyway, even if you say no, so-"

She cut herself off by catapulting off the ground into my arms with such grace that I was taken completely by surprise. Her arms locked around my neck and she buried her face against the base of my throat, wrapping her legs around my waist and clinging on like a little baby monkey.

I couldn't help but smile goofily at the position we were in, and I walked inside her house as I hugged her tightly. I'd have to thank Ginny again for giving me Lottie's address. And then I'd have to thank Clark for calling this kid named Zach who had Ginny's number which I used to call her.

Lottie brought her face up and stared at me solemnly for a few moments, her eyes boring into mine like she was trying to look for something. "I keep telling you again and again what a lovely person you are, why can't you believe it?"

My mouth puckered. God, she was too good for me. What did I even do to deserve this? "I just like hearing you say it," I murmured, nudging her nose with mine.

She laughed that high, clear laugh of hers that had slowly but surely charmed the hell out of me. "You're lovely," she said, kissing my cheek. My face immediately began to grow hot. "You're lovely!" she said again, and kissed my other cheek. "Ben, you are the loveliest," forehead, "kindest," nose, "weirdest," one eyelid, "most wonderful," the other eyelid, "guy I have ever met!" She smiled at me, her eyes crinkling and her dimples surfacing.

I cleared my throat so that I wouldn't to something I'd regret, but then cringed back when my eyes saw something over her shoulder.

A man of medium height, thinning hair the colour of Lottie's, and a slight potbelly stared at us with his mouth agape. I looked frantically down at Lottie, who furrowed her eyebrows and let go of me. She turned around, and upon spotting her father, she jumped and accidentally crashed into me. I put my hands on her shoulders to steady her.

"Hey Papa," she said awkwardly. "This is...er...this is Ben. He's my...he's my fr-friend."

God, and there she went throwing around that damn word.

What exactly do you call somebody you've kissed and wanted to keep kissing?

NOT A FRIEND, THAT'S WHAT.

"Nice to meet you, sir," I said hesitantly, moving around Lottie so that I could shake his offering hand.

"Alright, Ben?" Mr Carter said, sounding surprised. "What are you doing here?"

I coughed and scratched my nose. "Well, tomorrow is Lottie's birthday, so I just thought I'd - I don't know - come and see her? I apologise if I'm intruding."

As I spoke, Mr Carter frowned deeper, and then he looked at Lottie, who was watching us with a cocked head. "Tomorrow is my baby girl's birthday," he said quietly. He blinked and walked over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

She smiled at him, the kind of smile that was meant to reassure. "Don't worry about it, Papa."

He bent his head, and I couldn't see the expression on his face, but his voice became extremely gruff. "I'd forgotten my daughter's birthday. I'm sorry, Charlie. I'm really sorry."

Lottie patted his hand. "Birthdays aren't that great, Papa. It's really okay."

"No, it's not. I'll make it up to you, poppet, I promise."

And that girl, ever the selfless angel, just smiled soothingly. "You don't have to. Besides, Ben just got me the best present ever."

She winked at me when I looked at her curiously. Mr Carter glanced at me and then back at her. "What did he get?" he asked.

Lottie laughed, as though he was being funny. "Don't be silly, Papa. He didn't get anything. He came here, isn't that so cool?" A small smile quirked up one corner of my lips, and I felt myself fill up with an overwhelming feeling of affection for her.

Her father just stood there, making me shuffle awkward. "Yeah...that's cool," he agreed, and then turned to me. His stern gaze made me anxious. I didn't normally feel like this, but this was Lottie's father. I needed to make a good impression. "Thank you, son," he finally said, surprising me.

I nodded. "I wanted to, so it wasn't like I was going out of my way or anything."

He wrapped his arm around Lottie and grinned, breaking his aura of austerity. "Well...I give you my full permission to woo my daughter." Lottie's and my eyes popped out of our heads, but he kept on speaking. "But first you're going to help her make dinner and then we're going to eat it together while I ask you questions."

His sudden shift back to sternness threw me off for a second. "O-okay," I said. "No problem."

Lottie smiled shyly at me. "And Benjamin," Mr Carter said.

"Yeah?"

"Hurt her, and I won't hesitate to take out our two foot Nutcracker figurine that my girlfriend bought us and put it to good use."

I grimaced. "Got it."

"Good. Now you kids be safe. I'm gonna head out to Delia's. I forgot to pick up my medicine from her!"

Lottie kissed his cheek, her face flaming red from his previous statements. "Bye Papa. We'll be fine."

Mr Carter squinted his eyes at me as he walked over to the front door. "You're lucky that I trust my daughter," he said, then quickly added, "and also that I had to listen to her gushing about you for a full thirty minutes!"

"Papa!" Lottie exclaimed, but he'd already slammed the door shut.

I looked at her extremely embarrassed face and my amusement grew. "A full thirty minutes, huh?" I said smugly. My chest felt like it was expanding and I straightened my back.

She hid her face in her hands. "Don't tease me," she moaned into her hands.

I walked over to her and touched her soft hair. "Don't be lame."

Lottie peeked up at me and when she saw my wicked expression, she turned her back to me. "Don't say anything, I don't want to hear it!"

"Lottie, what did you tell him?" I asked, putting my hand on her back and looking at her from over her shoulder. Her face was so red. "How unbelievably handsome I am? My down-to-earth personality? My expansive intellect?"

Her hands covered her ears and she shut her eyes. "Nope, nope, nope, nope," she chanted. I enjoyed seeing her so shy too much.

I bent near her ear and said softly, "Or maybe how good I am at kissing?"

Lottie squeaked and shoved me away. "Stop!" she said, running away from me.

"Come back here! I was just kidding!" I followed quickly behind her, down the hall of her house and into a room with a different coloured door than the rest. It was a very light blue, and I guessed it was her room.

I stepped inside and looked around. The room was small and airy, and decorated with lights and pictures.

"Lottie," I said in a sing-song voice. "I know you're in here." I dropped to my knees and checked under her lavender coloured canopy bed. She wasn't there, so I stood up and walked over to the closet. "Lottie," I sang again.

There was no response.

I flung open the closet and scanned the small, half-empty space. I bent and pushed aside some pea coats to check near the floor.

I furrowed my eyebrows. Nothing.

"Boo."

"Fuck!" I jumped and swore again, leaping to my feet and spinning around.

And there she stood demurely, her hands clasped behind her back, her big green eyes wide and wondering, her smile soft and sweet. "I believe that's one to three," she said primly. "We're almost at a draw."

I rubbed my hand over my face, feeling embarrassed. Jesus Christ, I hadn't been expecting that.

She punched my shoulder. "Hey, wanna go make dinner now?"

I shrugged, unable to keep a straight face. She was more excitable than usual, and she seemed genuinely delighted that I was here. Just seeing her like that did wonders to my primarily sullen mood.

"Come on," she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of her room. "We'll cook dinner, and then I'll give you a tour!"

I thought back to the cake I'd made that was just chilling in a cooler in my car. I didn't want anything to happen to it, but I also didn't want Lottie to see. I'd have to wait for her dad so that he could distract her while I sneak it in. "What are we making?" I asked, knowing full well that I refused to ever touch anything cooking-related ever again. Never again.

"I don't know. We'll see what junk my dad has holed up in the fridge." She squeezed my hand excitedly and I tugged her so that she was pressed up against my side. I didn't like not being close to her.

I followed her into the kitchen, which was this wide open area with an island counter in the middle, a dining table and chairs beside it.

"Ben," she said suddenly, in a noticeably less enthusiastic tone.

I frowned. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

"What?"

"You talked to your dad, right? Did you guys patch anything up?" The amount of worry she held for me made me feel strangely vulnerable. She didn't know it, but she held quite a bit of my self-esteem and heart right in her hands.

"Maybe you should sit down, Lottie. I've got a story to tell you."

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i'm so close to 2 million reads, i'm going into shock. thank you so much for giving this story a chance.