by Amelia Wilde
There was always going to be enough time to fix things later. When the dust had settled. When the hurt had faded. But the fall fell away, then the winter and spring, and we graduated. Emily went to college. She never looked back.
Until she did.
“It wasn’t just your mistake.” I take her hands in mine. “I could have come for you, too. Forgive me, Em.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Emily
Tears are falling from my eyes, one by one, and I cannot go back down to the living room with red, puffy eyes. I look up to the ceiling and blink them away.
“Only if you forgive me.”
Finn laughs. “For what?”
“Well, for that. For being a stuck-up cheerleader bitch and never giving you the benefit of the doubt. What happened that night, anyway?”
He tells me the Cliffs Notes version, and my heart breaks for him all over again. No wonder his face was so white. No wonder he looked so stricken. By then, the rumors were already flying through the stands at the game. They would be worse by morning. I overheard my mom tell my dad that Wyatt Senior had shown up at the game. “So sad,” she’d said. “But I’m glad that Finn didn’t walk her out onto that field for homecoming. I wouldn’t want our Emily wrapped up in all of that.”
My father had sighed deeply. “He seems nice enough. But there’s someone better for her out there. Too bad his old man had to steal the limelight at the game.”
“Arrested!” My mom had clicked her tongue. “God.”
“God.” I’m mortified. “I was such an ass.”
“You were eighteen,” Finn says. “So was I. We were young and stupid.”
“What about now?”
“We’re still young, in the big scheme of things.”
The pressure in my chest builds. There’s nobody here, and the longer I drag this out, the worse it’s going to be.
I have to tell him.
“Em, tell me this isn’t another one-night stand situation.”
I laugh, but it does nothing to dispel the nervousness. I can see the pain in his face, and the hope, and I can also see my life’s plan imploding. I don’t know what I was thinking. After this moment, everything is going to be different. With Finn. At work. It’s not going to be simple. It’s not going to be easy. It’s going to be really fucking hard. “I don’t think it’s that kind of situation, but I don’t know—”
He kisses the knuckles of my left hand. “As long as it’s not another holiday fling, then it doesn’t matter. I missed you so fucking much, Em. And maybe it’s foolish as hell to jump back into this after all these years, but the thought of letting you go again…I can’t do it.” Finn laughs out loud. “If it has to be long-distance for a while, so be it.” The blood drains from my face, and Finn’s smile disappears. “What’s wrong? You don’t want to do that?”
“It’s…it’s a little more complicated than that.”
His eyes search my face. “Are you seeing someone?” I’m sure he’s picturing a messy breakup, months while I need time to think, another wasted chance.
“No.”
Relief spreads across his face in a brilliant smile. “Your job, then? We can make this work. I’ll work around your job. I’m busy, too, but we’ll figure it out. As long as you’re not walking right back out of my life again—”
“Finn, it’s more than that.” Why can’t I bring myself to say the words? Why are they lodged in my throat like this, choking me, stealing all the air from the room?
I know why. Because Finn didn’t ask for this. Yesterday, when I showed up on his doorstep, his expression was closed off. It wasn’t just senior year. It was Thanksgiving. In the back of his mind, he was waiting for me to use him and discard him again.
“Tell me,” he says. “I’m right here.”
Panic. “We should get back to brunch,” I say quickly, knowing even as I’m saying it that it’s not an option. “I think our five minutes have expired.”
“I was misled about what was going to happen up here,” he says with an impish look in his eyes that turns back to seriousness. “We’re not going back down until you tell me whatever it is that you’re holding back from me right now. How bad could it be? Do you have an asshole boss, is that what it is? Do you hate flying? Am I going to have to move to the city? Fine. I’ll move to the city. Just tell me, Em.”
“Last time I was here…”
“I’ve forgiven you for sneaking out like a thief in the night. That’s water under the bridge.”
“Last time I was here, we spent some time together. In your truck.”
“Hell yes, we did. If you have a thing for the truck, that’s all you had to say.”
“That’s not—” I square my shoulders. “The first thing you should know is that I haven’t been with anybody else. Not since this one time in law school, which is really irrelevant at this point. But I don’t date around. I’m not on any of those apps. I work, and I come home to my Netflix, and that’s it. There’s nobody else.”
“Okay,” he says, forehead wrinkling with confusion. “I believe you. I don’t know why you feel like you have to tell me that, but—”
“I’m pregnant.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, on a tidal wave of pressure that forces them out.
They hang in the air between us, two crystalline shapes waiting to smash to the floor.
Finn is looking at me like he hasn’t heard.
“Finn?”
“You’re—” He rubs a hand over his chin. “From Thanksgiving?”
I nod. “From Thanksgiving. From that time in the truck. That was the only time in the last—God, I don’t know, several years, with the exception of last night.”
He stands up, letting go of my hands. “How long have you known?”
I think of the after-hours clinic, telling the nurse about my sudden fatigue, her face when she brought back the results of the test I was irritated about having to take. “A couple weeks.”
“So you came back here for this. To do this.” His face is white, then red. “What was that yesterday, Em? What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I stand up, too, because it feels so ridiculous to be sitting down. “I wanted to. I was going to. I wanted to spend the day together afterward, so that we could…we could see if we even wanted to be together. If we could spend time together and not have the past come between us.” I reach for his hand, but he pulls it away. “And we did, Finn. It was wonderful. Wasn’t it?”
“It was a fucking audition.”
“No.” My voice trembles. “I missed you after Thanksgiving. Terribly. I wanted to spend time with you either way. I’m sorry I didn’t say it the moment I showed up, Finn, I just couldn’t. You seemed—”
“You can’t blame this on me.”
“I’m not. You seemed upset about the way things had gone on Thanksgiving, and then one thing led to another, and—”
“You had all day. And all night.” His eyes go wide. “Is that even safe? Should we have been doing that? Jesus, Em.” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. “I need some fresh air.” Then Finn turns and walks out of the bedroom.
This time, it’s his turn to walk away.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Finn
I don’t know what to think.
What the hell do I think?
Emily’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. And it’s mine.
My head spins.
She doesn’t follow me out of her bedroom, and I go down the stairs with light footsteps. I grab my coat. I go out to my truck. It’s fucking freezing outside, but I start it up and drive away. I have to get out of here. Her house is closing in.
What kind of trap was that? Why did she do that?
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.
I’m hardly looking at the roads, driving on autopilot, the radio turned up loud. I’m almost there by the time I realize where I’m going.
My dad’s house.
“Fuck,” I say
out loud. I should turn around, but I don’t. I don’t, because now’s the time for the reckoning. That asshole showing up at that game changed everything, and now? Now everything is upside down again. I can’t find my footing in the world.
Plus, I have a Christmas gift for him, thanks to Emily. It’s wedged between the seats of the truck, already gift-wrapped.
I pull into his driveway at top speed and slam on the brakes, stopping three feet from the garage. He’s kept it clear despite all the snow.
I slam the door shut behind me and stalk up to the porch, the steps clear beneath my feet, and pound on the door with a fist. “Get over here and open up,” I shout at the door. It looks like relatively fresh paint. Red. There’s a fucking wreath on the outside, one of those ones made out of twigs.
“Coming,” he calls. Footsteps. Then the door is swinging open, and my dad is standing there, looking for all the world like a regular guy. “Hey, Finn.”
I take him in.
There’s no bottle dangling from his hand, and his eyes are clear. He’s slim. Thinner than he used to be, but still wearing the same kind of flannel shirt I buy for myself.
This is different.
“Dad. Merry Christmas.” I shove the wrapped shirt into his chest.
Behind him, his small house is neat, and there’s new flooring in the entryway. Laminate, looks like, and his coat hangs from a peg in the foyer.
He looks down at the gift, tests it in his hands. “Thanks. You want to come in? I’m making turkey.” He turns away, going back into the house.
What?
I follow him inside and kick off my boots, hang my coat on the peg. How long has it been? Three years? Four? I’m looking at a different person. I find him in the kitchen.
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
“I took a class.” His mouth lifts in a little proud smile.
“When? When did you take a class? The last time I saw you—”
“The last time you saw me,” he says as he bends to take the turkey out of the oven—a turkey breast, not a full turkey—“I was drunk off my ass and in a bad way. I’m sorry about that, Finn. I’m sorry for a lot of things, but mainly my drinking problem. I’ve been working on it.” He puts the turkey on the stove and lifts it out onto a serving plate with a pair of tongs. “Are you hungry?”
I shouldn’t be, considering all the food I ate at brunch, but it smells delicious. “Sure.”
He takes down two plates from the cupboard by the sink. He places them on the counter and proceeds to dish up turkey. He adds green beans, drenched in butter, and in a second pot on the stove, he’s got mashed potatoes. He grabs silverware from a drawer.
We sit down at the table in the kitchen that he’s had for as long as I can remember. It’s sturdy, handmade, a family heirloom.
I’m living someone else’s life right now.
I would have killed for this back in high school.
He offers me the salt shaker.
We take our first bites in silence.
“Can I open this?”
“Sure.”
He does.
“Love the color, son. You picked the perfect one.”
The truth about that sticks in my throat. I move on to the turkey.
“This is really good, Dad.”
“It was a good class.”
“Where the hell did you find a cooking class?”
“The local library. That’s where I met Linda.” He looks up at me, cautiously. “She’ll be home in a couple of hours. Last-minute shopping.”
I freeze with my fork halfway to my mouth. “You have a girlfriend?”
“She prefers partner.”
I put the fork down. “Why didn’t you tell me, Dad?”
“You know,” he says mildly, “after all I did, I thought I’d let you come to it on your own. I know you’ve become a bit of a success in town. I didn’t want to change that for you.” He takes a bite of mashed potatoes. “And I don’t mean to tell you that you can’t stop over, but what’s the occasion?”
I’m too flabbergasted to lie. “Emily.”
“Em Powell? That girl you dated in school? I always liked her.”
“You never knew her. You were drunk. And she picked out that shirt. Thought you’d like it.”
“I wasn’t always drunk. She came over a few times. Nice girl. You two were peas in a pod. And I do like the shirt.”
“We’re different now.”
“I don’t believe that. Did she break your heart all over again? Show up in town with a fiancé? That’s what happened to me, back with Carol Phillips. Went off to college and came back with a ring on her finger.”
“She’s pregnant.”
“Carol Phillips?” He looks up at me, and then his eyebrows hit his hairline. “Emily Powell’s pregnant? Oh, God, Finn. I’m sorry. That must be tough news, even after all this time.”
“The baby’s mine.”
We stare at each other across the table.
Then my father leaps up and comes bounding around to my side. He yanks me up from my chair and wraps me in a giant hug, pounding my back. I can’t understand his words until a moment later. “Congrats, buddy! That’s amazing news. I can’t believe it!” He steps back, hands still on my arms. “You’re going to love it,” he says, eyes glistening. “You’ll be better than me. A thousand times better.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why the hell not?”
“She showed up here at Thanksgiving. It was one time. She has a life, Dad. A whole career.”
“So do you.”
“It was never meant to be like this.”
My dad grins at me, shaking his head. “It was always meant to be like this. You just had to give it some time.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emily
By the time the sun peeks above the horizon on Christmas morning, I’ve been lying in bed, awake, for hours. I don’t know if I’ve slept.
I haven’t heard from Finn.
This is exactly the disaster I thought it would be, and now my entire life is in shambles.
He left brunch yesterday without another word, and I still haven’t been able to tell my parents any of this. What are they going to say? What is my boss going to say? It’s not like this firm is particularly single-mom friendly. Maybe if I’d already made partner, it wouldn’t be such a big deal, but eventually the truth is going to come out. I don’t know what the maternity leave policy is. I don’t know anything about hiring a nanny or registering at daycare.
I don’t know anything.
As soon as the light starts to bleed onto the horizon, I get out of bed and take a shower.
I dry my hair.
I get dressed.
And then I sneak out the front door, leaving my parents’ still house behind.
There’s only one place I want to go, and it’s Finn’s house.
He has every right to be angry at me. I never should have withheld this information from him, not in a million years. I’ve made things a thousand times more complicated, and my stomach twists at the thought of the future now. We’ll have to agree on a custody arrangement. It could be very, very bitter. I don’t want that. I don’t want it at all, but I also want fairness. As much as there can be, anyway.
I pull into his driveway and nearly lose my nerve.
It feels like two days ago, only now there’s a lot more at stake.
It’s too cold to stand outside for long, so the moment I’m on the porch, I knock at the door. Softly. Tentatively. If he doesn’t wake up, I’ll try again later. It’s early as hell. This was a bad idea.
It’s not twenty seconds before the door swings open, and Finn stands there, fully dressed. “Hey, Em.”
“Hey.”
“Come in. It’s freezing out there.”
I do.
He helps me with my coat and my hat.
“I came to apologize, Finn. I’m really—”
“Hush.” He comes to me and wraps me in his ar
ms, pulling me close. One breath, and I can feel myself relaxing against him. Hasn’t it always been this way, even when we were at odds with one another? How did I spend so long without him? How am I going to spend the rest of my life without him? A glimmer of hope ignites in my chest. “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he says. “I do.” He steps back, taking my hands in his. “Emily, let me try it again.”
He waits.
“Um…”
“Go ahead.” A grin plays at the corners of his mouth. “Go ahead and tell me your big news.”
I smile back at him. “First of all, you should know that I love you.”
His mouth drops open a bit. “You do?”
“Yes. I do. I’ve loved you since high school. And I was stupid, and I went to college without you, and I never should have done that. The other day I was desperate to make up for Thanksgiving, to spend time with you. And I loved you then, too.”
“I love you,” he tells me softly, and my whole chest ignites with joy. “I think you have some news to share with me.”
“I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.”
“Oh, my God,” Finn cries, wrapping me in a hug so enthusiastic that my feet lift off the floor. “Emily! Holy shit, Em, that’s the best news I’ve ever heard in my life!” I laugh out loud, and so does he, and then he’s kissing me, my feet still hovering in the air, arms wrapped around his shoulders. And tears. More tears. Jesus, is this crying ever going to end?
Finn breaks the kiss and sets me down on the floor. “That’s what I should have done yesterday.”
I wipe at my eyes. “Well, we can’t always get it right on the first try.”
“That’s the thing,” he says, squeezing my hand. “There’s another chance right here in front of us.”
“Finn.” I’m getting choked up. “This is going to be so rough! What am I going to do about my life’s plan? What are we going to do? You don’t want to live in the city.”
“First, you should know that I’d follow you anywhere.” I laugh, and it releases some of the anxiety that’s been hovering like a lump in my gut ever since that clinic visit. “And second, I’m not sure you want to live in the city.”
