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I was going to tell Finn tonight. He would want to know, would want to send me good vibes during the procedure. He’d been more invested in helping me make this happen than anyone.
Or maybe he’d ask me not to go through with it.
What then? Would I wait for him? Hope he’d eventually come around to the idea of having a family? I didn’t want him to do anything that would crush his creative spirit, and I’d never ask him to sacrifice his dreams for mine.
My phone rang on the coffee table, and I smiled when I saw his name on the screen. “Of course I’ll be your Valentine,” I said, getting straight to the point.
“Well that’s a relief.”
I laughed. “As if you had any doubt.”
“Doubts, no, but still. I’d hate to be in the lobby of your building only to discover you didn’t want to see me tonight.”
“What?”
“I’m on my way up,” he said. “Do me a favor and start taking your clothes off.”
I leapt off the couch and looked down. I was still in my work clothes and hadn’t even thought about what I was going to wear tonight. “I thought I was meeting you at the bar?”
“A crafty cover story,” he said. “Designed to keep you from making other plans.”
I couldn’t just get naked. That would be outrageous. “I’m…”
“Overdressed,” he said. “I can hear it in your voice.”
“Finn.”
“Pressing the elevator button,” he announced. “Take off anything you don’t want me to rip off with my teeth.”
My adrenaline spiked with my heart rate, and I couldn’t help but be amused by how hunted I felt. By how happy that made me.
I pulled the clip from my hair and shook it out behind my back until my loose curls fell over my shoulders. Then I took off my pantyhose because they were so sheer he’d probably tear through them with his eyes.
What was he doing here? I thought it would be hours before he jumped my bones. Wasn’t he supposed to wine and dine me first? Was I really complaining? No man had ever spoken to me like that, and I was desperately curious to see what would happen next.
So I did as he asked. Or at least, I tried to, pulling my silk blouse off before pinching the zipper at the back of my pencil skirt the moment Finn’s knuckles announced his arrival.
“Ready or not,” he said. “You’re about to come.”
My cheeks were on fire before I even got the door open. “Would you keep it down? I have neighbors, you know.”
His eyes smiled like he couldn’t hear over how happy he was to see me, and he stepped inside quickly so I could close the door. When I turned around again, his gaze was dripping down my body like hot sap, lingering on my chest and then smoothing over my hips.
He dropped a bag at his feet, and before I even had a chance to look at it, he was kissing me, my back shoved against the cool door.
“Thanks for the flowers,” I said between kisses as he yanked my skirt up around my waist, fisting the fabric to pin me in place.
He paused for a moment, and stared at me, his eyes full of… I don’t know what. Desire? Appreciation? Whatever it was, I liked it, and I was about to ask what had gotten into him when he kissed me again, crushing his hips against mine so I could feel the extent of his longing.
“Finn,” I panted, my shallow breaths making it hard to speak as I laid a hand on his chest.
He pressed a finger across my lips and fixed his eyes on mine. “Don’t interrupt me again,” he said, his irises darkening with lust. “The roses were only part one of making you my Valentine.”
My chest rose and fell against his heavy forearm, and my wide eyes searched his. But before I could ask what part two was, he sank to his knees, draped one of my thighs over his shoulder, and made me so hot with his mouth I forgot my own name, much less how I came to be so lucky.
And he wasn’t kidding with that ready or not line. I never could’ve prepared myself for the way he devoured me against that door. Like his life depended on it. Like the fate of the human race depended on it.
And just when I feared my swollen bud might burst on its next pulse, I melted over his tongue, my hands gripping his hair and the doorknob to keep my jellied legs from giving out.
And by the time he was done with me, I was so much more than his Valentine. I was his lover, his biggest fan. His slave.
F O R T Y S I X
- Finn -
We were in a heap on the couch, our clothes strewn about like driftwood across the floor.
“You’re the best Valentine I ever had,” Maeve said, her head resting on my chest as her fingers traced swirls on my arm.
God, she’d felt good wrapped around me, her long legs draped over my back as I buried myself inside her. It occurred to me that she was the best sex of my life, but I cast the thought away. Told myself I was being dramatic.
“That was a clever ruse,” she said, her voice a dreamy sigh. “I really thought I wasn’t going to see you till later.”
It wasn’t really a ruse, I thought. I just missed you. Couldn’t wait to see you. “We can still go to the bar if you want,” I said, knowing the chances of us leaving her place that night were slim to none.
She raised her face. “You’re kidding, right? I still can’t feel my legs, much less climb up on a stool.”
“Is that why you haven’t sniffed out your present?” My eyes fell along the soft tendrils of her deep brown hair. I loved how it framed her face, how different she looked and acted when she let it down. It was impossible to guess what the future held for us—if we even had one—but I hoped she would always think of me fondly. I would certainly always think of her…
“What present?” she asked, scrunching her brow.
I lifted my chin towards the Victoria’s Secret bag by the door, and she followed my line of sight.
“Totally forgot you didn’t arrive empty handed,” she said, turning back to me. “What is it?”
“A lingerie set and a bottle of Welch’s sparkling grape juice.”
Her shapely lips dragged to one side. “That’s so sweet.”
“I know. But to be clear, the panties are from Otis.”
Her laugh rattled my chest. “He does owe me.” She glanced at the bag and then back at me again. “Thank you.”
“Don’t give me too much credit. At the end of the day, it’s really a present for me.”
Her eyes sprang into little crescents. “Not the grape juice.”
“True,” I said, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear and feeling a tightness in my chest at the thought of sharing my big news.
“What?” she asked, sensing there was something on my mind.
“I did a thing today.”
Her brows piqued. “Oh?”
“I went to the School of the Art Institute and talked to a member of their admissions department.”
“Really?” she asked, her smile brightening.
I nodded, my head sinking into the pillow behind me. “I was hoping you might help me choose what to include in my portfolio?”
“Of course.”
“There’s no guarantee I’ll get accepted, but—”
“You totally will.”
“It’s not that simple,” I explained. “They need test scores, too, which I don’t have.”
“That’s an easy fix,” she said, as if she was oblivious to how hard it was for me to admit that. “I know someone who found an awesome tutor for their idiot kid. Not that you’re an idiot. But if she could help this kid pass, she could help anyone.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
“I’m so excited for you!” she squealed. “If only we had some sparkling grape juice to celebrate.”
“It’s probably not cold anymore.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “I don’t really want to get up anyway. I like playing naked pancakes with you.”
I laughed. “Is that what we’re doing? Pl
aying naked pancakes?”
“You have a better name for it?”
I adjusted the faux fur blanket that was draped over us, further trapping the heat of our bodies. “Don’t you think the ‘naked’ is redundant? Have you ever seen a fully dressed pancake?”
“Spoken like a guy who’s never been to Walker Brothers.”
I tutted once and rolled my eyes. “What kind of Chicagoan would I be if I’d never been to Walker Brothers?”
“The kind that’s lying about being from Chicago,” she said, like there were no two ways about it. “What made you decide to go back to school? I thought you said there was no point?”
I shrugged. “I’ve been hanging out with this fierce sex bomb who’s been bravely chasing her dream. Some of her ambition must’ve rubbed off on me.”
She cast her lashes down at my chest as if to hide her blushing cheeks. “That’s awesome, Finn. I think you’d really enjoy it… Though I don’t want to hear about the nude drawing classes you’ll inevitably have to take.”
“Because you’d be jealous?”
“I actually had kind of a big day, too,” she said, ignoring the question.
“Oh?”
“The doctor called about a cancellation next week.” Her expression grew serious. “So I’m getting knocked up next Wednesday.”
My stomach dropped.
“Assuming everything goes according to plan.”
Be happy for her. It’s what she wants. “Wow,” I said, my voice scratching out. “That’s…great. Congratulations.”
She took a big breath and searched my eyes. “Might as well get a move on, right? No time like the present.”
I hoped my face wasn’t betraying my disappointment. The last thing I wanted to do was let her down.
“I don’t want to chicken out, you know?” Her gaze was shifty all of a sudden, like she didn’t quite know where to look. “And I have no reason to put it off, right? So…”
Fuck. A second ago we were playing naked pancakes and now she’s telling me she’s going to have another man’s baby? How could I have screwed this up so bad?
“Finn?”
“Sorry,” I said, shaking off my shock. “I’m just so…proud of you.” I swallowed my hurt. “For going after what you want. It’s really…” Ruinous? Heartbreaking? Fucked up? Your tits are literally crushed against me right now. “Inspiring.”
“Right,” she said, her tone suddenly devoid of cheer. “Well, I couldn’t have done it without you, so thanks for all your help.”
You are not welcome. Not even a little bit. I’m a goddamn fool, and I wish you never set foot in my bar. “Have you arranged for someone to go with you?” I asked, feeling like I was desperately clinging to a wet bar of soap.
“Yeah,” she said. “My mom’s going to come with me.”
Adrenaline surged through me despite my body’s relaxed position. “Guess that means everything’s about to change for you?”
“Not everything, I hope,” she said, her eyes combing mine. “I mean, I know you won’t want to keep…having fun with me like this forever, but—”
This would be so much easier if she’d just stab me in the chest and carve out my heart. Then at least I’d understand why I was in so much pain.
“Let’s just enjoy a nice Valentine’s Day and not talk about that now.”
“Sure,” I said, at a loss for words. “Whatever you want.” But deep down, I knew it would be impossible to enjoy the rest of the evening. Because our honeymoon was almost over, and when it ended, there’d be no hope of a happy ending to follow.
F O R T Y S E V E N
- Maeve -
I glanced at the magazines on the table. Redbook. Good Housekeeping. People. They looked virtually untouched. Perhaps I wasn’t the only patient who couldn’t feign interest in Feng Shui-ing my bathroom at a time like this.
But it was only my mind that was vacillating. My body was ready to go. At least according to the ovulation test kit I used that morning before coming in. I called with the results, but they asked me to bring it along anyway.
Handing it across the counter to the receptionist was beyond surreal, not at all like showing ID at the liquor store. My uterus is ready for probing and here is the proof, I wanted to say. Instead, I told the woman I liked her sparkly pin, which featured a little yellow chick hatching out of an egg. I might’ve considered it a good sign if she didn’t work in a fertility clinic.
“Breathe, honey,” my mom said, likely sensing how tangled in my thoughts I’d become. Meanwhile, she was relaxed, eager to be a grandma, and completely confident that I could pull this off.
I appreciated her optimism. I also wondered what Finn was doing right now. Probably walking along the lake with Otis or tinkering on his piano. I wished he was there with me. His company made me feel brave and sane.
“Remind me again how this goes,” my mom said, using a tone that suggested she’d feel better if I stopped wringing my clammy hands.
I knew what she was doing. It was a trick she used to play on us as kids. Anytime we were nervous, she’d ask us to walk through things out loud. It forced us to focus our mind on the present and on what we could control, so we didn’t get swept up by unproductive thoughts. But I didn’t want to play her mind games now. I was too busy giving myself a headache.
“Maeve,” she said, refusing to be ignored.
The doctor is going to wash the sperm,” I began. “Whatever that means.” Was it dirty? I hadn’t asked. She’d said it so casually I felt dumb for not being familiar with the term. “Then I’m going to lay on the table, and she’s going to inject it directly into my uterus.” My mom’s attentive nodding slightly eased my nerves. As if I was doing a good job. Giving the right answers. “They said it might be mildly uncomfortable, but no more so than a pap smear,” I continued. “Then I’ll probably lay there for a while out of paranoia more than necessity.”
Her eyes smiled. “And after?”
“After we’ll go for pasta,” I said, not wanting to jinx the procedure. After all, if the artificial insemination didn’t work, I’d have to consider IVF, which was nearly four times the cost. Not that I’d care once I achieved the intended result, but still.
“Amazing how far science has come,” she marveled. “What an incredible time to be a woman.”
“Yeah.” I stared at the Georgia O’Keeffe print on the wall across the room, wondering if the vulvic imagery was supposed to set me at ease.
“Can you imagine if I could’ve had the three of you without having to put up with your father?”
“You don’t mean that,” I said, wondering how he’d take the news that he was going to be a grandpa. Not that I had any plans to tell him. “You guys were happy for a while.”
“Maybe,” she said, leaning back against the worn upholstery of her waiting room chair. “But I don’t know if it counts.”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “Is happiness real if it’s a lie?”
I turned to look at her. “It wasn’t a lie.”
“I don’t want to get into it,” she said, as if I was the one who broached the subject. “Last thing I’ll say about it is—”
I rolled my eyes internally. Talk about lies.
“The only thing worse than trying to convince yourself you’re happy when you’re not is trying to convince yourself you’re not happy when you are.”
What was she talking about? Why would people try to convince themselves they’re not happy if they are? It was rambling nonsense like this that drove Maddy nuts.
“Anyway, you’re doing this for the right reasons at the right time,” she said. “So there’s nothing to worry about.”
I wouldn’t say nothing.
No matter how much I tried to quiet the voices at the back of my mind, the fact of the matter was that going through with this would irrevocably change my relationship with Finn. But I couldn’t let that stop me, could I?
I took a deep breath, and I was halfway through exhaling it when a rotund woman in teal scrubs opened the door across the waiting room and said my name.
My mom raised her hand silently and we rose from our seats, glancing behind us to make sure we had everything. Then I returned the woman’s inviting smile as I approached, wondering if her cheeks were rosy from scrubbing my donor sperm by hand. Moments later, we followed her into a compact doctor’s office that contained a silver rolling trolley, a few extra chairs, and a padded table with a folded, paper gown on it.
“We’ve confirmed your test results,” she said. “And you’ll be pleased to know that conditions couldn’t be better.”
I knew what she meant, but in my gut, I knew she was wrong.
“I’ll give you some privacy to get changed and comfortable,” she said, nodding towards the table and gown. “Open side at the back. You know the drill. The doctor will be in to see you shortly.”
“Great,” I said, feeling a bit lightheaded. “Thanks.” But by the time I changed my clothes and lay down on the table, I was filled with the sense that something was terribly wrong. And I realized I was doing that thing, that thing my mom mentioned earlier.
I was trying to convince myself I was happy when I wasn’t.
F O R T Y E I G H T
- Finn -
I hadn’t slept in days, not a wink since the night Maeve fell asleep on my chest while we were playing naked pancakes. I didn’t dare move, nor was I willing to fall asleep and miss a second of being so close to her. The way she smelled, the way she breathed. She was so beautiful, so…everything a man could ever want.
At one point, she joked that the lingerie I got her would look funny when she was pregnant, but as far as I was concerned, there was nothing funny about the thought of her naked. Pregnant or otherwise. And there was definitely nothing funny about the thought of another man being the cause of her swollen belly. Except the more I paced the hardwood floors of my apartment, the less it seemed to matter whose baby she was having. I just wanted to be there for her.