Chapter 27 Finn #2
She said she wasn’t sure she ever wanted kids.
That she might not be good at it, but she’d be amazing.
She already is, she's kind, fierce, and steady. The idea of her carrying our baby makes my heart skip a beat. And terrifies me at the same time. I have no idea how I’d make that work, but I know I would.
I’d work twenty-four-seven if it meant giving my family what they need.
Nothing would keep me from taking care of my family the way they deserve.
But whatever Rowan wanted to do, I’d support her all the way. What we have isn’t technically new for me. I’ve always loved Rowan. But being official is new. I’m worried about how this is going to go.
A text comes across from her.
Rowan: Almost done. Heading back to the apartment to shower. Meet you there.
By the time I park behind the bookstore, I’m sweating. I sit there a second, staring at the test in the paper bag on the seat beside me like it might bite.
Then I grab it, head inside, and pace her bedroom, waiting for her as I tap the box against my palm, nervously.
The air smells like bonfire smoke, peach cobbler, and a little fresh air from the window she always leaves cracked.
When she walks in from watering her plants, her cheeks are pink. She takes one look at me and freezes.
“Why do you look like you’re about to confess to murder?” she asks slowly, her eyes narrowing, suspicious.
I swallow hard and hold up the small box, my hands trembling slightly.
“Neither,” I say, my voice tight. “But… we need to talk.”
Her brow furrows. “Why do you have that?”
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Rowan… do we have a baby?”
For a moment, she just stares at me, blinking. Her mouth opens, closes, like she’s searching for the words. Then her hand flies to her mouth, and she freezes, eyes wide.
“Oh… oh my God,” she whispers, voice shaking. Her gaze drops to the box in my hand. “Wait… that’s… I… I’m late.”
She presses a hand to her mouth, her breathing quickening. I can see her mind racing, connecting the dots, piecing together the possibility that this is really happening.
The world feels like it’s tilted, and for the first time, the full weight of what we might be facing hits both of us.
“You’ve been sick, tired, and I did the math.”
She shakes her head. “It's impossible. I'm on the pill. I take it every day. I never miss it. Sometimes I’m irregular and I've been stressed, so I just figured. I didn't even think...”
“Baby,” I say gently, “you need to take this. We need to know.”
She groans, bringing it with her into the bathroom. “Don’t look.”
“Not looking,” I promise, hands up, turning around.
A few minutes later, I hear the faucet run. Then silence.
She comes out, face flushed. “I can’t look at it.” She collapses face-first onto the bed.
I swallow. “I'll look.”
She waves a hand. “Go.”
I walk into the bathroom and stare down at the test. Two lines are slowly forming, clear as day.
My brain short-circuits, making me feel like every wire crosses at once. I’m equal parts holy-shit-terrified and entirely in love with someone I’ve never met.
I walk back to the bedroom and drop to my knees next to her on the bed. “Baby, you’re gonna be a mom.”
She rolls over, eyes wide, tears already welling. “Oh my God.”
I start laughing, can’t help it, and kiss her all over her face. “We’re having a baby.”
She’s crying and laughing at the same time. “I’m not getting a minivan.”
I grin in this moment because that was the first thing she thought to say. “That’s fine. I’ll build you a custom school bus.”
She snorts, swatting me. “No.”
I take her hand and press it against my heart. “Baby, we’re gonna do this together.”
She looks terrified and happy at the same time. “What are we even going to do?”
“Be parents,” I say. “Good ones. The best kind.”
She shakes her head. “We’re a mess.”
I laugh softly. “Yeah, but we’re a good kind of mess.”
She sniffles, still smiling. “You really think I'll be an okay mom?”
I nod, eyes burning. “I know you'll be a great mom.”
Her shoulders relax. “There’s so much happening really fast.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, kissing her forehead. “But this—this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, other than you.”
I rest my forehead against hers, both of us laughing through tears.
She’s warm and soft and shaking just a little. I kiss the top of her head, then her temple, then her mouth. Every part of me is humming with something wild and electric.
“You’re really pregnant,” I say, still trying to make sense of it. “We’re having a baby.”
She smiles up at me. “We are.”
I press my forehead to hers. “You have no idea how happy this makes me, Row.”
Her fingers slide into my hair and she kisses me again. It starts soft, but turns deeper, hungrier, like we’re both trying to memorize the moment. It’s not about urgency. It’s about connection. The way her breath catches. The way my name sounds when she whispers it against my skin.
I kiss her slowly, like she’s something sacred. My hands move over her, steady, reverent. Everything feels sharper now, every touch threaded with hope and love. The beginning of a life we made together.
We move together without thinking, like muscle memory, like gravity.
I guide her back until we’re lost in the dim light of the bedroom.
My hands find her waist, her back, the soft curve of her shoulder.
Every touch feels reverent, deliberate, like I’m trying to memorize her all over again—the rise and fall of her chest, the warmth of her skin against mine.
The feeling of our bodies finally together.
Her breath catches, and the air between us turns thick with something sacred. It’s not rushed or frantic; it’s slow, deep, and certain, every movement threaded with meaning.
She whispers my name, and it hits me in the center of my chest. I can’t stop looking at her—the way her hair spills over the pillow, the way her eyes never leave mine. It feels like a promise, like the world outside could collapse and we’d still be here, exactly like this.
The world narrows to the sound of her breath, the warmth of her skin beneath my hands, the way she moves with me like she’s known the rhythm all her life. Time slows until it’s just the two of us, lost in something deep and wordless.
I hold her close, my face buried against her neck, breathing her in. The air between us hums with love, awe, and an exciting promise of a sweet future for us and our family.
When we finally still, I stay there, tracing lazy circles along her back, my heart continuing to race against hers. I kiss her again, soft and certain, and rest my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling in the dark. “We’re gonna be parents,” I whisper.
She smiles up at me, eyes shining. “Terrifying, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say, my thumb tracing her cheek. “But it feels right. Like everything before this just made sense to get to this moment.”
Her hand slides over my chest, slow and tender. “Ivy and Willa are going to freak out.”
I laugh, the sound breaking through the stillness. “Willa will have color-coded baby spreadsheets set up immediately.”
“She’ll cry,” Rowan says softly. “You know she will.”
“She’s allowed,” I tell her, grinning. “She’s gonna be an aunt.”
I look down at Rowan’s stomach, my hand resting there, feeling something I can’t name. Awe, pride, fear—all of it tangled together. “You’re carrying our baby,” I whisper.
She covers my hand with hers. “We’re gonna be okay, Finn.”
“We are going to be more than okay,” I say.
The night is quiet outside, just the sound of waves and crickets. I pull her closer, kiss her slowly, and hold her like the whole world finally makes sense.