Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
FINN
“Genevieve?” My voice echoes through her quiet house as I let myself in, knocking lightly to announce my presence.
She doesn’t answer. No playful retort, no hurried promise that she just needs five more minutes to finish getting ready. Nothing.
I find her on the couch, legs crossed, dressed in pajamas — soft flannel shorts and an oversized T-shirt that’s slipping off one shoulder.
But it’s not her clothes that stop me in my tracks. It’s the tiny onesie on the coffee table in front of her.
My heart lurches, thoughts spinning in a dozen different directions.
Is she pregnant after all? Were the tests she took wrong?
I never actually asked if she got her period. I just assumed she had, since she told me when we’d need to start trying again. She wouldn’t know that unless she’d gotten her period, right?
But if she’s not pregnant, why is she staring at that tiny piece of fabric like it holds all the answers?
And if she is pregnant, why does she look like someone just told her that her cat was hit by a car?
“Genevieve?” My voice is cautious, careful.
She blinks, finally seeming to notice I’m here.
“Is there something you need to tell me?” I ask, unsure what I want her to say.
Actually, I know what I want her to say.
As much as I want to give her the baby she’s always dreamed of, I don’t want this to be over yet. Whatever this is.
“My mom thought it might help,” she explains with a subtle roll of her eyes. “She claims if I bought some baby clothes, I’d be letting the universe know I’m ready to receive its gift of a baby.”
I release a chuckle, pushing down any sign of relief over the fact that she’s not pregnant. I should have known her mother would have something to do with it.
“Why am I not surprised?” I chuckle as I lower myself onto the couch beside her. But she still doesn’t look at me. She’s not really looking at the onesie, either. She’s looking past it.
Past everything.
“What’s wrong, Genevieve?” I ask softly, praying she’s not about to tell me having this onesie in her house has caused her to have a change of heart.
After several protracted moments, she finally brings her eyes to mine and parts her lips, her response on the tip of her tongue. But then she shakes her head.
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” she says, although I get the feeling it’s more for her benefit than mine. Then she furrows her brow. “What are you doing here? Not that I mind you stopping by. I just wasn’t expecting you.”
I give her a pointed stare. “Jude’s bowling tournament? You said you wanted to go.”
“Shit.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I completely forgot.” She springs up from the couch and hurries toward her bedroom. “Give me five minutes to get dressed.”
As I watch her go, I can’t shake the feeling that something is off with her. I pull myself to my feet and follow her down the hallway.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I lean against the doorframe, watching as she rummages through her closet.
“Of course,” she insists, not facing me. “Why wouldn’t I be okay? It’s not like I ran into my ex-husband today while he was with his brand-new wife.” She slides hanger after hanger down the railing, each one being moved with increasing force. “His brand-new, pregnant wife.”
“Shit, Gen.” I push off the doorframe, making my way toward her.
“It doesn’t matter,” she continues, yanking a hanger free. “He doesn’t matter. He?—”
Her voice catches.
I don’t think she realizes how hard she’s gripping the hanger in her hands until I gently pry it away and pull her into my arms.
For a second, she stays stiff, fighting it.
Then she caves.
Her body sags against mine, and a broken sound escapes her lips. Not quite a sob, but damn close.
I tighten my hold on her, hating I wasn’t there when she saw him. Hating she’s been sitting in this house, stewing in this alone.
“Listen to me, Genevieve.” I tilt her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Don’t give this to him. Ethan was a fucking idiot. I thought it when I first met him, and I think it even more today. He wasn’t nearly good enough for you. He didn’t deserve you. And he sure as shit doesn’t deserve your tears.”
A weak, watery laugh escapes her throat, and I swipe my thumbs over her damp cheeks.
“What you’re doing is incredible.”
“Is it?” she asks weakly. “Or am I just being selfish? Wanting to have a baby, knowing it won’t be easy doing it on my own?”
“What makes you think you’ll be alone?”
She lets out a humorless laugh. “I am alone.”
I shake my head, my grip on her tightening. “You have your mom. Your sister. And me.”
She swallows, her lips parting like she wants to argue, remind me of the role I’ll play in her baby’s life. And the role I won’t be allowed to play.
But I don’t let her.
“What you’re doing isn’t selfish, Genevieve. It’s one of the most selfless acts I can think of. You have so much love to give, and you’re willing to do whatever it takes to share that love with a tiny human.” My fingers tighten on her face. “That’s why I wanted you to choose me. Because I wanted to be a part of something good. Something I can be proud of. Something worthwhile.”
She stares at me for several long moments, my words echoing around us. My eyes drop to her lips and the air between us changes, becoming charged.
I want to kiss her. God, do I want to kiss her. But I agreed to the rules, so I reluctantly release her from my grasp and increase the distance between us before I do something I can’t take back.
Something that destroys our friendship.
“You should?—”
Genevieve cuts me off with a harsh grip to my cheeks. Then she slams her mouth to mine.
For a second, I freeze, completely caught off guard.
It’s not the first time we’ve kissed. Hell, by this point, I could probably draw her lips from memory.
But this kiss feels…different. More raw. More real. It’s not a means to an end, the end being her bed so she can hopefully get pregnant.
Instead, she’s kissing me because she wants to.
At least, I hope she wants to.
Before I have a chance to return her kiss, she tears her mouth from mine and jumps back, keeping her eyes averted.
“I… I’m not sure what came over me.” She turns toward the closet again to hide her flushed cheeks. “Just give me a minute to get dressed.”
I should leave.
Give her space.
Pretend she didn’t just kiss me outside of our arrangement. That’s what a good man would do. What a decent man would do.
But all I can think about is how fucking perfect Genevieve’s lips felt on mine just now.
And I want more.
Eating up the space between us, I wrap my fingers around her arm, forcing her toward me. On a sharp inhale, she flings her wide eyes to mine, a question within.
Or maybe a challenge.
Licking my lips, I slowly bring my mouth closer to hers, every inch I erase feeling like miles. But I want to give her a chance to stop this runaway train before I happily drive it off its tracks.
Which is exactly what she does as my lips are about to meet hers, a hand to my chest forcing me to pause.
“What about our agreement?” she asks softly. “The rules?”
“I’ve never wanted to break the rules more than I do right now, Genevieve,” I answer honestly.
She searches my eyes for several long moments, neither retreating nor advancing. I expect for her to remind me I agreed to her limitations. That if we do this, it will blur whatever lines remain between us. After all, Genevieve’s a rule follower by nature. I doubt she’d decide to break the rules now, especially with our friendship on the line.
Then a wicked smile curves across her lips and she lifts onto her toes, only a breath between us.
“Let’s break some rules, Finn,” she says before crashing her mouth back to mine.