Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
GENEVIEVE
The sun filters through the trees as Claire and I walk along the winding path of the town park, the gravel crunching beneath our shoes. The summer air is warm, but I barely feel it. My mind is elsewhere, focused on the fact that my period was supposed to start yesterday. Sometimes I’m a day or two late, but I can’t ignore the flutter of hope rising in my chest. The thought of a little life growing inside me sends a warmth through me.
And not just at the prospect of being pregnant, but at the idea of carrying Finn’s child.
I quickly push down the thought. It’s not his child.
It’s my child.
This isn’t about Finn.
It’s about me having a family.
Finn’s just the means of achieving that. Nothing more.
No emotions. No attachments. No promises.
Despite that, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t missed the warmth of his hands on me. The way he kissed me. The quiet moments in the dark when I let myself pretend, just for a second, this was real.
But it’s not real. It can’t be. We agreed. After the way things ended with Ethan, a relationship is the last thing I want. I’m fine on my own. I’m happy on my own.
That still doesn’t stop me from wondering what it might be like, especially after having a taste.
“How’s Finn doing?” Claire’s voice breaks through my thoughts, as if she’s able to sense what I’m thinking about.
Considering how close we are, I wouldn’t doubt it.
“Fine.” I shrug, keeping my gaze fixed on the path ahead.
She narrows her eyes. “Fine? That’s all you’re going to give me after spending an entire week having what you described as the best sex of your life?”
“What do you want me to tell you, Claire? We had sex for a week, per an agreement we made in order for me to get pregnant. Per that agreement, after my ovulation window, things would return to normal, which they have.”
While I wasn’t sure if that would be possible, Finn’s made sure things haven’t been awkward between us. The day after the last time we had sex, he showed up at the library with coffee, like he often did before. There was no heat in his stare. No lingering glances. Just Finn, my friend. As if we never crossed that line.
As if I don’t know how much pleasure he’s capable of giving me.
“So you two just quit cold turkey?”
“We didn’t quit anything. This is what we agreed to.” I hold my head high, hoping she can’t see the truth in my expression.
That I’ve missed having Finn in my bed.
That my vibrator’s been getting quite the workout over the past ten days.
That when I close my eyes, I imagine it’s Finn making me feel good. That it’s his name on my lips whenever I make myself come.
“And you’re okay with that?” Claire asks.
“That was the agreement,” I remind her yet again.
“As you’ve said. Repeatedly.” She gives me a pointed stare. “But forget the agreement for a second. Do you want more with him?”
“I can’t want more with him.” My candid response leaves my mouth before I can stop it.
“Because you have an agreement?” She arches a perfectly manicured brow. “Or because of Dad?”
I falter in my steps, darting my wide eyes toward her, her question leaving me momentarily speechless.
“He has nothing to do with this,” I finally stammer out.
She exhales slowly and touches a soft hand to my arm, her green eyes awash with all the sincerity I’ve come to expect from my sister.
“Gen, I know what he did hurt you. I didn’t really feel it since I never knew what it was like to have a father. But you can’t keep letting his choices control your life.”
“I’m not letting him control anything.” I spin from her, kicking up dirt as I continue on the path.
“Aren’t you?” she presses, easily catching up to me. “You’re making decisions based on proving you don’t need anyone. That you’re fine on your own.”
“Because I am,” I snap back harsher than I intended, feeling the old wounds pressing in.
I was six when my dad walked out.
One day, he was kissing my forehead goodnight after reading me a bedtime story.
The next, his side of the closet was empty, and Mom was trying to smile through the tears, promising we’d be okay as she rubbed her very pregnant belly.
For months, I’d sit on the front steps waiting for his car to turn down the street. I went out of my way to be the perfect child. I thought if I was good enough, if I was quiet enough, he’d no longer feel like having kids was a mistake and would come back.
He never did.
I refuse to put my child through that.
Refuse to put myself through that.
“I don’t want to depend on someone who could just walk away when things get hard,” I declare.
“Not everyone leaves, Gen,” Claire reminds me, studying me for a long moment. Then she pushes out a long sigh as she reaches into her pocket and retrieves her phone, scrolling through it before handing it to me.
I frown at the photo of Ethan and me from our wedding day.“Speaking of people who leave,” I mutter under my breath.
“Tell me what you see,” she challenges.
“I don’t understand what this has to do with anything. I?—”
“Stop being so damn stubborn and answer the question, Gen.”
I exhale deeply, but play along. “I see myself dancing with the man I thought I wanted to spend my life with.”
“How is he looking at you?”
I glance at Ethan’s face. His posture is rigid, his gaze distant, almost indifferent. His expression isn’t one of love or joy, but of obligation. Like he’s simply enduring the moment rather than reveling in it. There’s no warmth in his eyes, no tenderness in the way he holds me.
“Like he can’t wait for the dance to be over.”
Claire tilts her head. “And you?”
I study my own expression. My smile is tight, forced. My shoulders are stiff, my body leaning ever so slightly away from Ethan rather than into him. I don’t look happy. I don’t even look content. If anything, I look uncomfortable. Like I already knew, deep down, I’d made a mistake.
“About the same.”
Claire nods knowingly and takes her phone back. She swipes again before returning it to me. “Tell me what you see now.”
It’s another picture from my wedding. But this time, I’m dancing with Finn. And the way he’s looking at me… God. It’s not just different from Ethan. It’s dangerous. Because as I look at that photo, I almost believe it.
That someone could look at me like I’m the best thing that ever happened to them.
Like they’ll never walk away.
“This doesn’t mean anything.” I shove the phone back at my sister.
“I think it does. And I think you know it too, but you’re too much of a coward to admit it.”
I press my lips together, willing away the emotions tightening my throat.
Claire steps closer, placing a gentle hand on my arm. “Dad left because he was a fucking asshole who, one day, decided he no longer wanted the responsibility of having kids. What he did was shitty, but not everyone’s like him. If you keep living your life like everyone is, you run the risk of missing out on so much.”
Her words hit something raw inside me, scraping over wounds that never really healed.
Missing out.
Like Mom did? Loving a man who abandoned her, spending years picking up the pieces while he started fresh somewhere else, pretending we never existed?
I’d rather be alone than put myself through that.
“I’m not missing out on anything,” I say, my voice cold, final.
Claire pins me with a glare, then just shakes her head, pushing out a resigned sigh. “If you say so.”