A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

FINLEY

I t shouldn’t be this daunting. It’s only a freshman dormitory. Four floors. Boring red brick. A few bushes along the front and stairs leading to the entrance. Nothing crazy. Drew shares this space with two roommates. I’ve only met them once. Patrick and Charles. They’re nice in a hoity-toity kind of way. All pocket protectors and trust funds. I shouldn’t expect anything less, thanks to the stereotypes Drew’s been drowning in ever since he accepted his invitation to the Ivy League university. It was his favorite excuse. Why he could never step away to see me. Why he was too busy to take my calls. Classes are hard. Professors are unfair. Schedules are rigorous.

We already parked Griffin’s SUV, and when I climbed out, he joined me without a word. Now, here I am, staring up at a building like it might open up and swallow me whole.

“You good?” Griffin asks.

I snap myself out of my funk and slip my well-practiced fake smile into place. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? ”

His gaze slides up and down my frozen frame. “Because you haven’t moved from the first step in a solid thirty seconds.”

“I mean, who wouldn’t want to show up on their boyfriend’s door unannounced to tell them they’re pregnant?” I wave my fisted hands into the air like a lottery winner. “Yay me.”

The guy doesn’t buy it for a second. “You want me to come in with you?”

It’s a good question. I should say no. The unpregnant version of me would’ve without hesitation. Now? Now, I could use a little support, and whether or not I want to admit it, Griffin’s given me more than I could ever ask for. I should decline his offer, though. If Griff comes in with me, Drew will lose his shit. But I’m tired of putting Drew’s needs above my own. I’ve done it for so long I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to voice what I want. What I need. My little impromptu road trip with Griffin has reminded me of the opposite. That I’m allowed to have wants and needs and a person who supports—and delivers—said wants and needs in spades. Without bitching. Without grumbling. Without guilt-tripping.

Griff’s a fixer. He’s always been a fixer. And right now, he wants to help me fix my situation with Drew, even to his own detriment. If only fixing this was easy.

“Maybe just…” I wave my hand toward the front area of the building. “Stay close? I’ll call you if I need you.”

Tucking his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, he rocks back on his heels, his wary gaze never leaving mine. “Sure thing.”

“Thanks.” I offer him another smile—though it’s as forced as before—and arch my shoulders back, preparing for the inevitable. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be one hundred percent, totally and completely fine. I mean, let’s be honest, my mom and dad got pregnant with my big brother when they were still dating. Yeah, she’d just graduated from LAU, and my dad most definitely had a stable job, but look how they turned out? Totally and completely fine. They also never fought and already lived together, but…poe-tae-toe, poe-tah-toe. Poe-tah-toe. Who says potato like that, anyway? No one, that’s who.

“You goin’?” Griffin prods.

“Right.” Clearing my throat, I unclench my fists, keep my head held high, and make my way toward the front of the building, one slow step at a time.

There are thirteen. Steps, that is. If that isn’t a bad omen, I don’t know what is. I skip the last stair just in case, then shake out my hands. I can do this. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Praying the punch code to enter the building is the same as when I last visited, I type it in and wait for the familiar unclicking of the lock.

Click.

With a deep breath, I grab the handle and open the main doors. Did it smell this stuffy the last time I was here? I search my memory but come up empty. Maybe it’s my super human pregnancy nose or something. Maybe my rose-colored glasses have cracked. Or maybe I’m saying my rose-colored glasses have faded because I’m afraid that as soon as I tell Drew I’m pregnant, his rose-colored glasses will be shattered forever, and this whole thing will blow up in my face irrevocably.

Yeah, that’s not a nauseating rabbit hole of negativity to fall down at all, Finley.

Focus.

Drew’s room is on the first floor. Second door on the right. I lift my hand, preparing to knock, but the door’s already cracked. Curious, I peek inside. The rooms are laid out into tiny apartments. The main area has a small gathering space and kitchenette with two doors leading to the bedrooms. Drew’s parents shelled out a lot of money for the big room he has all to himself while Charles and Patrick share the second space. A horror movie is playing on the television in the main area. Honestly, I’m impressed. Drew hates horror movies. The back of his dark, shaggy head comes into view, along with long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail.

I wait for the gut punch to fully sink in, but it doesn’t. Instead, numbness spreads through me. He isn’t cheating. He isn’t even technically snuggling, or maybe he is and the angle is more forgiving than it should be. They do look…close. And comfortable. Comfortable in a way I’ve never seen Drew. Not with anyone but me. Doesn’t make it easier. The reminder of how different our lives are now that we’ve built them a few states away from each other. Honestly, should I really have expected anything less?

My gut’s been telling me this for months. If only I’d listened. Now, it’s too late. I need to get this over with.

Wiping my sweaty palms against my pants, I lift my hand to push the door open when a warm body hits my back.

“Can I help you?” a high yet almost masculine voice asks.

I peek over my shoulder and find one of Drew’s roommates. Okay, so Drew’s not on an actual date. That’s something, isn’t it? Or hell, maybe he’s into orgies now. Wouldn’t that be a fun turn of events?

Remembering my manners, I step aside and give the guy a small wave while my brain scrambles to figure out how the hell I should handle this situation. “Oh. Hi, Charles.”

“Frita, right?” he asks.

“Finley,” I correct. “But close. B- for effort.” My gaze drops to the orange bowl of popcorn cradled in his arms. Yup. He’s definitely included in the little movie afternoon they’ve got going for them. Interesting. “I, uh, I see you popped out of your room for a snack? Get it? ‘Cause it’s popcorn?”

“Yes, I’m familiar with puns.” He scoots his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Hello again.”

“Hello to you, too. Here, let me.” I push the door to his room open, then follow him inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Hey, what took you so—” Drew’s jaw drops, making him look like a pathetic goldfish at the pet store as the girl beside him follows his gaze.

Well, would you look at that. If it isn’t the infamous @mollie69.

Recognizing me, she scoots away, her head snapping back toward the television. She reaches for the remote, pauses the show, then turns into a freaking mannequin.

Sorry, girl. I’m not a dinosaur. I can still see you, even if you aren’t moving.

With one hand on my hip, I put on the same fake-ass smile I’m all too familiar with and give Drew my full attention. “Hello, boyfriend.”

“Finley!” He rushes toward me, pulling me into a full-bodied hug that makes my body recoil. Seriously. Is he this dense? As my feet lift from the ground, he spins me around and squeezes me tighter than a boa constrictor, making it hard for me to breathe. Or maybe it’s the entire situation making me feel like I’m suffocating. Regardless, the over-the-top hug is almost enough to make me believe Drew’s happy I’m here if I hadn’t seen how wide his eyes were when I walked in on him ten seconds ago.

Yeah, you’re not fooling anyone, buddy, even if your roommate’s joining you in your little movie marathon .

I know what a guilty man looks like, and Drew? Drew looks like he’s two seconds from crapping his pants.

I pat his back slowly, though it’s more of an okay, let me down motion than a genuine touch. Once my feet are on solid ground, I step back, my attention sliding from Drew to @mollie69 and back again. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Not at all,” Drew says. “We were all watching a movie as friends.”

As friends.

The only people who waste their breath on a clarification like that are the opposite of friends. Don’t they know the less a person says, the less evidence the other person can collect? Seriously, considering how many murder documentaries I’ve made this man sit through, you’d think a thing or two would sink in by now.

“Exactly!” @mollie69 chirps. “Hi. I’m Mollie, by the way. Drew’s told me so much about you.”

“I’m sure he has. He’s great at filling people in so no one’s left in the dark. Right, Drew?” I smirk up at him and pat his chest, noting the way his heart pounds against his rib cage like a freaking jackhammer.

Yeah, this is a wrench in both our days, that’s for sure.

“So, what are you doing here?” Drew asks. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m so happy to see you, and I love a good surprise, but how’d you get here? When did you get here? God, I’m so happy to?—”

I lift my finger, cutting him off. “Mind if we go to your room and chat for a minute?”

Mollie starts to stand, her focus glued to the ground. “I should go.”

“No. Stay. Seriously,” I reply. “Your movie isn’t even over, and the popcorn’s been popped. We’ll be five minutes tops. Then, he’s all yours. ”

“Fin,” Drew murmurs. I can hear the desperation in his voice. It only pisses me off more.

My attention slices to his. “Room. Now. I think you owe me that much.”

His head bobs with his Adam’s apple as he follows me into his room. It’s gray and square and absolutely boring. No posters. No artwork. Just a desk. A closed closet. A small window. And a mattress. My lips purse as I take in his perfectly made bed. And to think the bun in my oven was likely conceived in this very room.

Perfect.

He closes the door behind him with a quiet click. “She’s just a friend.”

“Yeah, she, uh, she really looks like she’s just a friend, but I’m gonna stick a pin in that for later,” I decide. I feel like I’m about to explode. Like with the tiniest of sparks, I might literally combust. I’m mad. Confused. Nauseated. What do I do now? What do I say? Do I try to fix this? Do I knee him in the balls and promise to never see him again? I feel like I’m fraying at the seams. Like, with the tiniest of pulls, I’ll unravel completely. I’m stronger than this. I know I am. But I’m also pregnant, which makes this the stickiest of situations, and I honestly don’t know what to do.

“Fin, I’m serious,” Drew murmurs. “There is nothing?—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

He steps toward me, his arms stretched out like he honestly thinks I’ll let him touch me. When I give him a warning look, he stops in his tracks and runs his hand over his head before squeezing the back of his neck. “I’m serious, Fin. We were all sitting on the couch together so no one had to crane their neck to watch the movie. It was completely innocent.”

“I don’t give a shit about Mollie,” I mutter, shifting my weight from one foot to the other as I battle my fight or flight instincts for the first time in my life. I’ve never been a flighty girl. That’s Dylan’s job. I’m a grab-it-by-the-reins-and-hold-on-tight kind of girl. So, what the hell is wrong with me?

“Then what is it?” he prods. “What’s wrong?”

“I came to tell you…” My tongue quadruples in size, refusing to work properly, let alone air out all my dirty laundry for the one guy who deserves to hear it.

“Baby, tell me,” he begs.

Baby.

I cover my laugh with my hand.

His brows pull. “What is it?”

“It’s just…you said baby, and, uh, well, surprise.” I laugh a little harder while fighting back tears. “I'm pregnant.”

His eyes bulge, and his jaw goes slack. Like I’ve sucker punched him. Like I’ve blindsided him.

Welcome to the club, buddy.

Sobering, I tuck my hair behind my ear and take a slow step toward him to cut the distance between us. “I was surprised, too. Shocked, actually. Especially because I don't have any morning sickness or anything. I mean, it’s technically still kind of early for those symptoms, but…” I shake my head and try to focus. “Honestly, I wouldn't have even known if…if I couldn’t like, feel it.”

“Feel it?”

“Not like, literally. I’m not that far along.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to rein in my crazy. “I don’t know how to explain it, and I know I sound like a crazy person, but, I could just…tell.”

Collapsing onto the edge of the bed, he cradles his forehead in his hands. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I know I have a wicked sense of humor, and my sarcasm is always on point, but I’m telling the truth.” I sit beside him, wipe my hands against my jeans, and tuck them under my thighs. “I’m pregnant, Drew. We’re pregnant.”

Dropping his hands back to his lap, he sits up straighter and scowls at me, making me pull away. I haven’t completely lost my mind. I played out the possibility of him not jumping for joy, but the animosity wafting off of him is the last response I expect, especially after I just walked in on him being all cozy with a girl he promised he’d stop hanging out with.

“What are you going to do?” he demands.

“Well, for starters, I’m going to tell you to stop looking at me like I shit on your welcome mat, thank you very much.”

“You can’t just show up here and tell me you’re pregnant?—”

“What would you have preferred?” I ask. “That I tell you over text?”

The blood drains from his face, and he shakes his head back and forth. “You can’t be pregnant.”

“Oh, I most definitely can,” I toss back at him. “I’m not sure if you remember or not, but it all went down in this very room if the math’s right.” I look around the bare walls and pat the center of his mattress like it’s a dog. “Right. Here.”

“Not possible.”

“Oh, it’s very possible?—”

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“Why?” I demand. “So you could keep lying about cheating on me with your little friend ?”

“Says the girl who’s pregnant.” He jumps to his feet. “How do we even know if it’s mine?”

Throwing my head back, I release an unhinged laugh and stand up, too. “First of all, fuck you. I held up my end of the deal. The only reason Griffin’s here?— ”

“Griffin’s here?” he balks.

“That’s what you’re clinging to?” Another enraged laugh escapes me. Seriously, I am this close to losing my last marble. “Yeah. Griffin drove me here because I had a seizure when I found out I was pregnant with your baby, and now I can’t drive for three months. I’m also babysitting Dylan’s devil child, and it’s not like they’ll let you fly with those, but that’s beside the point.”

Breathe, Finley. You can do this.

“Drew,” I murmur, “I came because I figured you have a right to know I’m pregnant. I came because I wanted us to…talk. Okay? That’s why I’m here.”

He stays quiet, staring at me like I’m nothing more than a stranger until, finally, his head shifts back and forth again, and he gives me a tight shrug. “Not sure what you want me to say.”

My eyes bulge. “Are you serious?”

“Fuck yeah, I am. What do you want me to say?”

“Well, for starters, you could say we’re going to get through this together and?—”

“What’s there to get through, Fin?” he demands. “Look, I think we both know things have been”—he scrubs his hand over his face—“kind of fucked lately.”

“You’re right,” I agree. “And after what I walked in on, I think we can drop the kind of, don’t you?” My throat constricts, but I swallow past it and step closer. “But this isn’t about us, Drew. Now there’s a baby involved, and?—”

“You should get rid of it.”

I jerk back, convinced that if he would’ve slapped me, it would’ve hurt less. His calloused words. The sharp indifference. Hell, indifference is too kind of a description. No, this guy isn’t indifferent. He’s making his stance very clear, but even then, I’m so blindsided I can’t fathom it. Can’t grasp his words and how much weight is in them .

“W-what?”

“I said you should get rid of it,” he pushes. “I’m not ready to be a dad. You’re clearly not someone who should have a kid?—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I reach for the desk, steadying myself as my legs threaten to give out.

“You said so yourself,” he pushes. “You had a seizure because of the pregnancy. This could be dangerous.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“What if the baby gets it?” he argues. “It’s genetic, right?”

It.

I blink slowly in hopes of staving off the waves of dizziness threatening to take me under. “I’m sorry. Are we talking about my epilepsy?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” He shakes his head and waves his hands around the room like a crazy person. “You got it from your mom.”

“So?”

“So, what if the baby gets it?”

“Gets it?” I scoff. “It’s not like an illness you can contract, okay? Besides, just because it can be genetic doesn’t mean anything. Everett doesn’t have epilepsy.”

“Yeah, but you do!” He stops in his tracks and faces me, his expression twisting with resentment and fear and…disgust. “What if it has it, too?” He waves his hand toward my stomach. “Do you have any idea how expensive it could be?”

My hands find my belly on their own. Like, subconsciously, I'm trying to protect their feelings. Their well-being in general, now that I think about it. But the strangest part of all of this? It’s the fact that I’m speechless. I’ve never been speechless. But now that I’m here, standing in front of a person I thought I loved, thought I could build my life with, and he has the audacity to think something so vile, let alone say it out loud? To me? Someone he’s supposed to love and cherish and fucking worship? I’m so blindsided I don’t even know how to respond.

Shaking off my stupor, I ask, “I, uh, I’m sorry, but are you seriously thinking about money right now?”

“Of course, I’m thinking about the money!” he yells. “Kids are expensive, Finley! Add in one with your fucked-up genes, and, and I’m out. You need to get rid of?—”

Burning hits my palm, and Drew’s face snaps to the side before I register what just happened. I look down at my shaking hand, then back at the palm-shaped red mark on his face. I’ve slapped a person or two in my life, but it’s never been so…instinctual. Like an out of body experience, and instead of the familiar shred of guilt accompanying the action, all I feel is…more rage as I stare at the sniveling man in front of me.

“In case it isn’t clear, we’re through,” I announce. “I will not be getting rid of the baby, but trust me when I say they will never know your name, and they will never owe you anything. Not a single Father’s Day card. Not a single moment. Not a single thought.” I step closer, looking down on Drew’s sorry ass as he cradles his flaming cheekbone. “Goodbye, Drew.”

Turning on my heel, I leave his room, ignore his friends’ curious stares, and race out of the dorm. My heart thrums in my chest so hard I swear I can hear it as I cling to the railing, forcing my breathing to steady so I don’t pass out from lack of oxygen. I can’t believe he said those things to me. That he blamed my genes? That he told me to get rid of our child? God, he’s so disgusting. Bile claws up my throat as if my body’s rejecting the idea of ever being touched by that selfish sonofabitch. My fingers dig into the cold, metal railing, and I close my eyes. How could he say those things? How could he think those things let alone say them? The world feels like it’s spinning faster than a top. I mean, it is, but normally, I’m used to it. Right now? Right now, I seriously want to puke. I wobble on my feet, my legs mimicking Jell-O, when a strong arm wraps around my waist and tugs me into a warm side.

It’s Griffin. I smell him before I see him. Sandalwood and the ocean and a warm summer breeze.

Peeking up at him, I open my mouth to tell him I’m fine, but he only shakes his head. “Are you okay?”

I look down at my shaking hands. “I, uh, I hit him.”

“I heard.” My gaze snaps to his, and he explains, “Window was open. If I knew the code to get into the building, I would’ve decked him myself. Fuck, Fin.” He rubs his hand along my arm. “He had no right to say any of that shit to anyone, let alone someone he’s supposed to love.”

The familiar burn behind my eyes hits with full force as I bite the inside of my cheek to keep the tears from falling. “You know, I was thinking the exact same thing.” Epilepsy is a bitch in more ways than I’ll ever be able to actually articulate. The medicine. The unknowns. The recoveries. The way it affects even the smallest of decisions. But knowing someone who was supposed to love me unconditionally would have the audacity to throw it in my face and make me feel like an unfit parent is the lowest of blows.

Fighting the urge to collapse and cry, I swallow the lump in my throat and stare at the maple tree on the opposite side of the street. Its bare branches sway in the gentle breeze. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from…everything.

“He’s an ass, Fin.”

“It doesn’t matter. ”

“It does,” Griff growls. “That sonofabitch would be lucky to share a fucking Uber with you, let alone a kid.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, hating the single tear managing to slip past my defenses and down my cheek. “Sure he would.”

“Fin…”

“Let’s get going.” I wipe my cheek and look up at him, my gaze like fucking ice.

Concern brands his blue eyes as he stares down at me. And I know he wants to push the subject. I know he wants to reiterate how much of an ass Drew is. But it doesn’t matter. Because nothing will take away the things he said to me. Not a single fucking thing in the world. And yeah, I know he’s a jerk and I shouldn’t care what he thinks, but the truth is…we both know I’ll be replaying them for the rest of my life, and there isn’t anything either one of us can do about it.

“Whatever you want, Fin,” Griffin finally murmurs.

With a slow nod, I lean into his side and accept his help, too drained to even make it to the car by myself, let alone walk down thirteen cursed steps. Find a place to sleep. Check on Frankie. Drive home. Tell my family. Have a baby. Raise a baby. Alone.

I let out a slow breath. My to-do list is piling up faster than I can even compute.

What if the baby gets it?

My legs give out as my greatest fear slices through my mind, debilitating me, but before I can fall into a heap of anxiety and fear on the cold concrete steps, Griffin tightens his hold around my waist.

“I got you, Fin.”