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T H I R T Y T H R E E
- Maeve -
My period was two days late, but it seemed too early to mention it to Finn, especially since I didn’t know how he’d react. No question he’d be panicked. Not that I’d hold that against him. Having a baby was my dream, not his.
That said, I couldn’t help but imagine what it might be like to go on that journey with him. No question he’d be a good dad. Seeing him with those kids at the Y was proof of that. And while his relationship with his brother was obviously strained, I’d never heard him speak ill of his parents.
I knew I shouldn’t entertain such ridiculous thoughts. He liked his life the way it was, and I couldn’t blame him. He spent his days writing songs, playing music, shooting the breeze with his best friend, and lavishing attention on Otis. He had a good thing going, and I was grateful to be a part of it.
Shame things would get weird once I committed to one of the profiles in my hands. I couldn’t imagine he’d want to sleep with me when I was pregnant with another man’s baby, nor could I expect him to put up with emergency pickle errands…or whatever strange impulses pregnancy would infect me with.
That said, knowing our time together was limited made me extra determined to enjoy his company while I could. Not that it was a struggle. Even the heavy decision weighing on my mind couldn’t diminish the pleasure of his companionship. He was funny, thoughtful, and just rough enough around the edges that I felt safe with him.
Perhaps that was the biggest difference between Finn and men I’d been with in the past. I could relax with him, let my guard down. I didn’t feel like I constantly had to prove how brilliant and loveable I was. Because I knew he wasn’t judging me. And that unconditional acceptance from him made me want to be more accepting of myself.
Silly as it sounded, I liked myself better when he was around, and that was a nice feeling.
“What are you drawing?” I asked after he’d been engrossed at the opposite end of the couch for some time.
He held out his large sketchpad, revealing an expertly shaded drawing of two thirds of Otis’s face, his head cocked playfully and his dark eyes shining from beneath his haphazard brows.
“Wow,” I said. “You captured him perfectly.”
He turned the picture around to look at it, his mouth twisting like he didn’t agree.
“Did you teach yourself to draw like that?”
“I never took any lessons, if that’s what you’re asking, but you’d be amazed at what you can learn on YouTube.”
“I wish I was creative like that.”
“You’re creative in other ways,” he said, wiggling his brows and playing footsie with me under the blanket.
My cheeks burned.
“How goes the search?” he asked, nodding towards the papers.
"I think I’m almost ready to make a decision.”
His eyes widened. “Oh?”
“Well, I can’t drag my feet forever, and it’s not like there’s any new information coming in.”
He blinked at me.
“I’d like to choose before the 8th.”
“What’s the 8th?”
“My brother’s having a Groundhog’s Day…get-together,” I said. “I was actually hoping you’d come if you don’t have to work.”
“Isn’t Groundhog’s Day the 2nd?”
“Yeah, but he has some work conflict, so he pushed it back and convinced everyone celebrating a week late only adds to the sense of occasion.”
“Is James a big Bill Murray fan?”
“Is anyone not a big Bill Murray fan?”
