Chapter 3
Jennie
All my resolve to stay unaffected by Finn’s arrival evaporates as soon as I lay eyes on him.
If it were only for his looks, I might have persevered.
And mind you, he looks better than ever.
He is standing tall and proud. His hair has been clipped short recently, almost to a military buzz.
His dark beard is shorter now and doesn’t hide his smile.
It wipes away all my worries about him and warms my fearsome heart.
Just at this very moment, the baby decides to make themself known for the first time.
I feel the baby moving in my belly and it’s the most wonderful sensation ever—in the most awkward setting.
I wish I could scream it from the rooftops.
But instead, I’ve got to act like nothing happened. Because Finn mustn’t know.
Thank God I am chubby and hide the pregnancy well. Aside from my gyno, nobody knows. I’ve dreamed so many times about how I will tell Finn. Seeing him, I want to blurt out with it. His mother’s warning rings in my ears, though. He needs to remember our night together on his own.
Hiding in the pantry, I can still hear Finn’s booming voice.
He is talking about some brewery and sounds like he hasn’t a care in the world.
Time to shake him up. First step of my sophisticatedly honed plan is to get back to our easy-going friendship, and once I’ve established that, take that second step beyond said friendship. There is no step three.
Now I’ve got to act like nothing happened. Old Jennie would have given old Finn the what for by mocking him hard. I can do that.
I get out behind the counter again and wrangle Finn and his friend’s order out of Robin's hands. I feel the gaze of the entire town on me as I approach Finn’s table.
"You've seen those movies where the hero catches the damsel in distress jumping from the second floor? Yeah, don't do that," Finn jokes to his audience, just as I am about to put his coffee before him.
I snatch it away and shout over to Robin. “That’ll be a week of decaf for Finn Winslow!”
Finn yowls in dismay while everybody else laughs, and the tension in the room lessens. I guess they take it that nothing has changed between Finn and me. But—oh my!—does it feel different. It’s like balancing a slack-line.
Finn’s friend, an obese man with a beaming smile, asks him, “Is that the Jennie you told me about?”
“You actually talked about me?” I ask in mock surprise, batting my eyes exaggeratedly at Finn. “Aww, that means you’ve thought of me.”
“Why wouldn’t I think of you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’d be more convinced you thought of me if you had written a letter or two.”
Finn blushes. That’s a first, and I must say, I quite like that look on his face. He deserves it. “You know I don’t like to write…”
“I do.” It’s fun to see how he relaxes at these words. He should know better than to assume this conversation is over. “If only I was an engineer. I’d invent some contraption that people could talk with each other over a long distance with. I’d call it telephone.”
Finn’s friend snorts and spits out his coffee. Without taking my eyes off Finn, I pull a few napkins out of the holder and reach them over.
I sashay into the kitchen, sure that Finn will watch me.
Once out of sight, I wave my hands in front of my face to cool off and blow out a long breath.
Okay, I did fine so far. Just Finn did not give as well as he’s taken.
What does this mean? Am I trying this hard to get back to our friendship and there’s nothing left on Finn’s side?
It’s only banter when both sides make fun of each other. I don’t like tame Finn.