33. Finn

Finn

If there’s one thing about me, it’s that I’m good in a crisis. My therapist might say that my immediate jump to action is less about being organized, and more about forcing myself to move on from the hurt, but I’m not with my therapist right now.

I’m walking quickly down the hallway at the hospital, the sound of my heels against the linoleum loud in my ears. It’s impossible, but it’s almost like I can feel the weight of my child, carrying them with me.

Sam Braun and I are done, that much is clear.

Before a nurse can stop me and ask if I’m alright, I pull my phone out of my purse with shaking fingers and bring it to my ear.

“Penny,” I say, the moment she picks up, forcing my voice to come through professional and calm. Clear. “Go ahead and book us two one-way flights back to Los Angeles, please.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and I step onto the elevator, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath in the interlude.

“Finn?” Penny finally says, and I can picture the confusion on her face. “You want me to book flights home?”

“That’s right,” I say, grinning as I push out into the fresh, cold air. The sun is shining, reflecting off a blinding blanket of snow. Quickly, I snap my sunglasses on and keep moving.

I just have to keep moving.

“Sorry, I guess I’m just confused.”

“Our work here is done,” I say, still forcing that falsely cheerful tone into my voice. “I’m eager to get back to the West Coast and focus on our other clients. Besides, this weather is horrific.”

It’s not—it’s actually somewhat peaceful. The cold feels bracing, invigorating. It’s like the white blanketing everything muffles the sound of the world. But I don’t want to sit in the quiet, because all that will do is give me time to think.

So I say, “Anyway, go ahead and book the flights.”

“But we haven’t even done the final report—”

“I’ll work on that in the next couple of days and send it over to Grey. See if you can get us flights out for Friday.”

“Before the first game of the Stanley Cup?” Penny is sounding increasingly worried. “What about…Sam?”

“We’ve done everything we can for Sam,” I say, relief coursing through me when I finally get to my car. “His team is going to the championship. His stats are miles better than they were. I’m not sure there’s much more we can do.”

“ Finn ,” Penny says, sounding exasperated, “but what about you and Sam?”

I pause, jaw ticking, trying to contain the alternating nausea, panic, and rage that flashes through me like a strobe light. “There is no me and Sam, Pen, okay? And I would just like to go home now.”

There’s a long pause, and then, “Okay.”

***

I’m on my laptop, inputting my recent purchases into my spreadsheet. Crib, stroller, changing station, monitors—I cross-reference my prep list and add the order number to the spreadsheet.

It’s premature, I know that. I know Dr. Chen wouldn’t advise me to go out and make all the baby purchases just yet, but I need something to keep my mind off Sam. If I’m not busy, my brain returns to that moment in the hospital.

The look on his face, that tone. “Get out.”

A shiver rolls down my spine when I hear it again, and I swallow, avoiding the thought.

His father in that bed, eyes shut, body still. The way Sam’s entire body had stiffened when I looked at him. The grief I felt when I realized Sam was stuck in that place between life and death, hanging onto a father who was no longer present.

I’m not a doctor, but I’ve spent enough time researching the human body, studying anatomy and physiology, that I can recognize a man who’s been in a coma for years. From the look on Sam’s face—and the fact that all this time, he’s been talking about his dad like he’s already dead—I’m willing to bet his doctor isn’t very optimistic about his chances of coming out of the coma.

My mind keeps trying to pull me back into that moment. I keep thinking that if I turn it over in my mind enough, I might be able to figure out why Sam reacted the way he did. How it went off the rails so quickly.

But I also don’t want to think about it. In some ways, it feels easier to just have it over and done with. And according to everything I’ve read, it’s better for the baby to be as low-stress as possible. That’s why I need to just get back to California and relax.

Everything I’m doing from now on is for this baby.

Our flight leaves in the morning, and I stand up from my bed, stretching and popping my back. I’ll need a shower, then to dry my hair and do an ultra-moisturizing routine before the flight. Even first class has dry airplane air.

I’m just walking out of the bathroom when I stop, realizing there’s something off in the living room area. I returned wordlessly to the Aldine’s guest house last night, and Penny and I have been quietly getting ready to leave. The lights are off in the living room, but there are a few flickering candles glowing warmly. Penny’s face is illuminated on the other side of them. I tuck my hands into my robe pocket and feel something lift in my chest.

No matter what’s going on with Sam, I still have Penny.

“Is this for me?” I ask, smile spreading over my face when I look at the cake. “What for?”

“Finn,” Penny says, glancing to the side quickly, like I’m making a joke. “It’s…what do you mean?”

“What’s the cake for?”

“Finn, it’s your birthday.”

I blink at her, then the realization hits me—it is my birthday. And I’d completely put it out of my mind in my haste to get out of Burlington.

“You remembered?” I say, and then, putting a hand to my chest. “Of course you did—it’s your job.”

“No,” she says, standing and crossing her arms. “It’s not my job, actually, because you wouldn’t have fired me—wouldn’t have even noticed—if I didn’t. I got you this cake because I care about you. We’re friends, and it’s your birthday, and I realized that you didn’t even remember in the middle of whatever is going on with you and Sam.”

“There’s nothing—”

“Please, Finn. I’m not stupid—I have a master’s degree. Don’t gaslight me.”

We stand in a stalemate, the candles steadily dripping onto the cake. Outside, the first few patters of a summer rain begin to fall.

“There’s nothing between us now,” I say, clearing my throat and looking away from her. I fix my sight on the rain that’s started to drip from the gutter. “That’s why I’m going home.”

“What happened ?” Penny asks, sliding onto a stool and dropping her head into her hands. I blink at her, surprised. Then it dawns on me—she really does care about me.

I look down at my hands, then blow out the candles quickly and take a seat across from her. We sit there quietly for a moment, then I say, “I’m pregnant.”

“ What ?” Penny lifts her head, a smile stretching over her face. “Oh my God , Finn! That’s amazing!”

“I shouldn’t get my hopes up,” I say, raising my voice a bit over her, heart starting to skip in my chest. Really, I shouldn’t have even told Penny about it, in case the worst happens.

Statistically, one in eight pregnancies end in miscarriage. Add in the fact that I’m a bit older than the prime age, and that I’ve had to try so hard to make this happen in the first place, and I know I’m at risk. Dr. Chen said we could discuss our options at my next appointment.

Keeping stress low is vital—I know that from my own research. So chasing Sam down right after hearing the news and discovering he’d been keeping the secret of his not-so-dead father from me probably was not the best thing for me and the baby.

“Get out .”

Clearing my throat, I open my mouth to give Penny a brief, to-the-point detailing of what’s happened. Instead, I add details, and clarify, and before I know what’s happened, an entire hour has gone by talking about Sam Braun.

When I finish recounting the scene in the hospital, I feel emotionally drained, and Penny is staring at me with wide eyes. Time ticks by with the dripping of the rain outside, then she clears her throat and nods a bit.

“Finn,” she says, gently, “did Sam say the two of you were breaking up?”

“He told me to get out,” I say, drumming my fingers against the counter. “I think that gets the point across loud and clear.”

“It just…sounds like your guys had your first fight,” Penny says, chewing her lip. “Albeit—about something pretty serious. But sometimes couples fight. That’s okay, Finn. Did you tell Sam you’re going back to California?”

“Of course not,” I say, feeling tears well up behind my eyes. “I blocked his number when I left the hospital.”

“You what ?” Penny asks, eyes wide. “Why would you do that?”

“…clean break.”

“Jesus, Finn, you’re ridiculous.” She looks to the ceiling, then laughs. With a sigh, Penny gets up, rounding the counter and coming to sit next to me.

“I don’t think Sam thinks you’re broken up,” Penny says, taking my hand in hers. “And I think you need to talk to him about that. But more than anything, I think you need to confront this thing.”

“There’s no—”

“Don’t say there’s nothing! You forgot your own birthday, Finn. And you forget that I know you. I know what happened when you were a kid. Something like that would make anyone think nobody wanted them. All this is a response to that—putting up walls. Calling it quits the first time something goes wrong. Maybe that’s what your adoptive parents did to you when you were a kid—and they suck . But you have to give the rest of us a little credit.”

I take a deep breath through my nose, tears pushing harder at the backs of my eyes.

“You expect the worst of people,” Penny murmurs. “You push them away when they get too close. If you really give Sam a chance, I think you might be surprised at how much he cares about you. If you unblock his number, I bet you’ll see that he’s been trying to reach you, Finn.”

Now it’s my turn to chew on my lip. My heart is thudding too hard in my chest, and it’s like Penny can sense that we’ve done enough emotional soul searching for one day.

“And in the meantime,” she says, laughing and pulling her hand from mine so she can get to her feet. “Let’s have some of this cake.”