Chapter 5
Jennie
Flowers for Mrs. Hartley? It’s not like I was expecting any flowers for myself, but I want more of Finn’s attention on me.
So he remembers the birthdays of random townspeople but could not call me from rehab.
Never would I have guessed I might be jealous of Mrs. Hartley, but here I am, wishing her flowers would have wilted already.
My dinner consists of a banana to fight off nausea.
Dr. Weller had told me that some women might experience light sickness on some mornings.
Don’t they teach them anything at medical school?
I have been sick every single day, not morning—day!
As of lately, there are days without nausea.
On those I have heartburn. Honestly, pregnancy is not for wimps.
Game night would have been nice. But I was so disappointed, because for a tiny moment I thought Finn had invited me to his place to talk, to be together, to I-don’t-know-what.
Anything that didn’t involve other people around.
Neil seems nice, and Lyle and Grace definitely are, but I want alone time with Finn.
“You got this,” I encourage myself. I am not done with him.
I will fight for us. Maybe it will not work out—I’d have to be okay with that.
But I will not live with what-ifs and regrets haunting me. I will fight and intend to win.
I challenge myself to hug him when I see him next. That should get the message across, right?
As I plop the last bit of my banana into my mouth, I am surprised by the delivery of my book rack. I totally forgot about it.
Since the fire, I have bought new books, and my nightstand is flowing over. I am excited to finally have proper shelves for my books again and set to work right away. The rack’s parts are so heavy, I will need to ask someone to help me carry it into its corner once I finish assembly.
Getting all the pieces together is a lot of work, and slow at that. I’m reading the instructions over and over, but I’m still not sure how this will work out. Which is scary, because right now I’m not screwing things in, I’m hammering little nails. If this is wrong, I won’t ever get them out again.
A knock at my door startles me, and I miss and hammer my thumb instead of a nail. I yelp, and someone bangs at the door. “Jennie? Are you alright?” That’s Finn’s voice.
I scramble over the half-finished shelves, thumb in mouth, and open the door.
Finn’s gaze travels up and down my body in record speed, checking for injuries.
He zeroes in on the thumb in my mouth. His pupils dilate and his mouth opens.
I quickly get my hand down. His eyes follow and he notices the hammer in the other hand.
“Hey, pretty builder, did that clumsy hammer hit your thumb?”
I nod.
He takes my hand and inspects the thumb. He even blows on it. I suppress a moan. I’m pretty sure, though, that he caught my tremble.
“Let me wield the hammer,” he demands.
“Yes, Thor.” I turn and walk back into my mess, with Finn at my heels.
In passing, I snatch a tangerine from the kitchen counter and toss it over my shoulder without looking.
There is a satisfying plop. “Oomph,” Finn grunts, but there’s a chuckle in his voice.
I grin. Maybe we’re inching back to our easy banter after all.
He has a look at the chaos I created in my front room and sets to work.
It takes him only three, sometimes even just two blows to get a nail in.
It makes me feel grateful and at the same time utterly inept.
Watching him working, confident in his abilities, takes my breath away.
It’s just a small rack, but the way Finn goes about it makes my mouth go dry.
Of course, I know that his ass in his jeans is a work of art, but today it looks extra fine.
And the way his shirt stretches to give way for his bulging muscles is no hardship either.
I love to see the artwork of his tattoos peek out at the cuffs of his shirt.
He tightens all the screws and finishes the rest. Within minutes, the rack is standing. Finn clears away the tools and the packaging.
“Where’s this going?”
I point at the space in the corner, and before I know it, he grabs the entire shelf like it weighs nothing and positions it where I point. Now I consider myself to be a capable, independent woman, but this here is to swoon over.
This is when I remember I wanted to hug him.
Can I just walk over and do so? I just stand there, biting my lips, watching Finn looking around in my apartment.
Suddenly, I am self-conscious of my modest living space with the flimsy furniture.
I didn’t even get around to painting anything.
And I am so tired, I don’t think I ever will.
Sleep is a much higher priority than a nice apartment.
I know I should get things done before the baby is here, but right now I cannot imagine being even more tired after the birth.
“Why didn’t you get yourself a nice apartment after the fire?”
Whoa, he is blunt. His commentary stings a bit, but the concern behind it is endearing. “I can’t afford anything better.”
“I’m sure Robin doesn’t pay this bad.”
“No, pay is alright. I’m still dreaming of living in a cabin in the forest and have been saving for a down payment for years. Inflation keeps dangling that in front of my nose. No matter how much I save, the price gets higher.”
“Aww, honey.” He pulls me into his big, strong arms.
Now, this is what I had wanted. But instead of taking the sexy up a notch, I succumb to feeling safe and cared for.
“Plus, I had to replace so many things after the fire,” I mumble against his chest. “And the insurance is taking their sweet time to pay out. Yet another form to fill, and after that there’s still another one. ”
I cry. And it’s not one of those sniff-and-you’re-done cries.
I’m crying my eyes out and sobbing. There is so much to let go of, so much fear and worry, and having to be pregnant all alone, and not being able to assemble a simple piece of furniture by myself.
And being in Finn’s strong arms and him smelling all that good.
He is rubbing my back. “Shh now. I don’t suppose you’d let me take care of you? I’d help you find a better place with a nicer bookshelf.”
I chuckle. But what is there to laugh about? That was the sweetest anyone has ever said to me.
Desire floods me, but maybe even more than that, I want to make sure that Finn understands this is not the brother-sister relationship anymore.
I get on to my toes and put a kiss on his lips.
For the tiniest moment, I think he’s never going to react, but then he pulls me tighter and kisses me with unexpected ferocity.
His tongue claims my mouth, his hands muss my hair, his body presses against mine.
He must have eaten an apple earlier because its taste lingers in his mouth. Appeley Finn is outright ambrosial.
Right now, in this very moment, I don’t even care if he’ll ever remember the night we’ve had. We’ve come out of best friend territory and that is all that matters.