“How did I miss you so much when I feel like I just left?” he says with a soft chuckle. The whole situation should be confusing. It should raise a million red flags that there’s not an ounce of awkwardness between us anymore, but it doesn’t. That’s obviously something I’ll have to unpack later, but for now, I’m just going to enjoy the way it feels to have somebody like Theo Calloway in my life.
“Are you talking to me, or the dog?” I joke, and weboth look down to where Boner sits at our feet, his eyes bouncing between us as his tail swishes back and forth happily.
“Neither,” he drawls with a teasing smirk. “I was actually talking to my little sweet potato.”
“Yoursweet potato?”
“Yep,” he replies, lowering to his knees in front of me. I go rigid at first, dirty reminders of tonight’s fantasies playing like a slideshow in my head. But it all fizzles away when he carefully cradles my stomach in his large hands. My heart gallops in my chest, and I swallow the lump in my throat as he leans in slightly.
“I was reading a book on the plane,” he mutters as though the baby can hear. “You’re the size of a sweet potato right now. You have fingernails, too. It’s been a while since I painted anyone’s nails, but I promise to work on that before you get here. Maybe your mama will let me practice on her.”
I’m grateful when he continues, his attention focused on my tummy as he talks about her new taste buds and all the fun snacks he’s going to give her, because the whole situation has me overwhelmed with emotion.
I never knew my real dad, and it’s very likely that my daughter will suffer the same fate. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for doing this to her—for not giving her a strong, loving father like I’m sure Theo will be to his own kids one day. I just hope I can be enough on my own, so she doesn’t grow up like I did, wondering why her own flesh and blood doesn’t want her.
Pain and sorrow pull at my heart, and a single tearslides down my cheek. I do my best to bat it away quickly, but he catches the motion as worry passes over his expression. In an instant, he stands to his feet, takes my face in his palms, and settles his tender gaze on mine.
“It’s going to be okay, Fin,” he says as though he has a direct line to the deepest parts of me. It’s like he sees the scared, insecure little girl who just wanted someone to tell her that she was enough, and is giving her grown-up counterpart the reassurance she’s always been so desperate for. “You can let your guard down and enjoy the little moments. I meant it when I said I’m here…for both of you.”
His words are like a soothing balm, reminding me that I’m missing out on so much by letting resentment and fear overtake an otherwise beautiful experience. I deserve this, and so does my daughter. Because one day, she’ll want to see pictures and hear stories about how she came to be—and I want her to know how excited I was for her arrival.
I nod, unable to speak with the emotion that’s clogging my throat. If you’d have told me a few weeks ago that I’d not only be living with Theo Calloway, but that he’d be my biggest supporter while I figure out what comes next, I wouldn’t have believed you. Back then, he was just one of the hot VIPs at Club Tilt. But now, he’s the reason for the lightness in my chest that I haven’t felt for a long damn time.
“Atta girl,” he praises, wrapping his arms around my body and pulling me close. I inhale his soft, clean scent, which I’ve noticed is different than whatever heused to wear to the club. Even though I was convinced he hated me back then, I’d still lean in a bit closer while serving him, just to get a whiff of his deliciousness.
“What made you switch colognes?” I blurt, happy that he can’t see the way I cringe against his chest. If he’s taken aback by my off-the-wall question, he doesn’t let on; his quiet chuckle rumbling along my cheek as he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of my head.
“Veronica from Tilt said that men’s cologne was making you sick, so I stopped wearing it. Whatever you’re smelling now is probably just my laundry detergent. Is it too strong?”
I pull away, my head rearing back in surprise at his answer. He’s right. There was a point earlier in my pregnancy, where the blended aroma of every high-end fragrance on the market was too much. I’d tolerate it as long as I could, but by the end of the night, cookies would be tossedmultiple times.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I reply, completely awestruck. “I honestly thought you hated me. You were always so short when I tried to make conversation.”
He loosens his hold but keeps his hands on my hips, blowing out a breath. “You want to know the truth?”
“Probably not,” I mutter sarcastically. “But tell me anyway.”
His expression softens, all the humor behind his eyes fading into something raw and vulnerable. The heat from his fingertips burns into the skin under my shirt as his grip tightens, and he swallows thickly before shocking me with an admission I definitely didn’t expect.
“You were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.” He shakes his head slowly, almost as though he can’t believe what he’s saying. “I never have trouble speaking to anyone, but whenever you came close, it was like all the oxygen was sucked from my lungs. You’re special, Finley Bolton. There’s no other way to explain it.”
My breath catches as I process his words. I want to push up to my toes and kiss him until our lips are swollen and we’re desperate for air, but I know I can’t. It’s one thing to fantasize about those things, but I’m afraid to put what we have in jeopardy. He needs me here to care for Boner, and I really like the way it feels to have a purpose—and a place that feels more like home than anywhere I’ve ever lived. Risking that for a kiss seems crazy, no matter how badly I wish I could.
There are a million things I want to say, but every one of them seems like too much or not enough in this moment. I can simply thank him for the compliment, or I could be as honest as he just was by telling him that he wasn’t alone in how he felt. Being a server meant staying professional, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t linger around his table or throw extra cherries in his drink to get him to talk to me.
“I think you’re pretty special, too,” I say with a soft smile, earning one in return. I love how things with us are so easy and uncomplicated, which is why I want to keep it just like it is. The subtle touches, hugs, and harmless flirty banter make me feel like everything is going to be okay. With him, I forget about all theugliness in the world and justexist, knowing I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
“Good,” he replies, the dimple in his cheek sinking in as his grin becomes wider. “Now, come on. There’s a container of chicken tenders in the kitchen with your name on it.”
TWELVE
FINLEY
“Canyou flip that red switch for me, please?” Theo asks, pointing to the large panel beside me. He has a late practice today, so he came outside early, determined to winterize the swimming pool before he leaves. It’s still pretty warm outside, but fall in Ohio is always finicky. You could be freezing in the morning, sweating by noon, and shoveling snow at dinnertime, and not a single lifelong resident would bat an eyelash. Either way, neither of us has swam a single time since I moved in almost a month ago, so he may as well close it up before the weather gets bad.
“Yeah,” I reply, flipping the lever markedFilter Systemto the off position as he twists the black valve he’s knelt in front of. A loud hum fills the air, and the water’s surface begins to stir. I never realized how much work being a homeowner is—probably because I never actually saw myself being one. I still have trouble imagining a future like this for myself, to be honest.
“Alright,” he says, standing to his full height. “Now, we just wait for the water to drain five inches or so. Then, we can blow out the lines, add some chemicals, and cover her up until spring.”
