A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 50

CHAPTER FIFTY

FINLEY

I t’s been two weeks. Two long weeks. We met with my obstetrician. He did another ultrasound, confirming I’m healing properly, then reiterated Dr. Brandish’s assumption. This had nothing to do with my epilepsy. Not my medication. Not my diagnosis. It was simply…a shitty and really heartbreaking event.

I should feel better. After receiving a confirmation like this. That it was out of my control. That I couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. Instead, I bawled my eyes out as Griffin drove us around town, then stopped at a burger place and grabbed me some food. We ate it in the car while listening to High School Musical . Pretty sure I’ve never loved the man more.

I didn’t know I could cry this much. Honestly, I’m pretty sure I’m giving Squeaks a run for her money in the waterworks department, but I can’t stop.

The smallest things are triggers, too. Like a stupid puppy video or a crosswalk sign next to an elementary school. I hate it. I hate crying. I hate feeling this way. And I hate feeling like no matter what I do, I’ll never be happy again.

I know it isn’t true. I know this will pass. But then I feel guilty for wanting it to pass. And then I feel scared of potentially getting pregnant again and having to relive this hellish nightmare. I just…I don’t know what to do.

Griffin’s been amazing. Surprise, surprise. It’s been nice, though. Having him as my self-proclaimed shadow. He even missed his last game to be with me. It didn’t help with the guilt side of things, but the idea of being without him for a night was more than I could handle.

My professors have been great, giving me a leave of absence. Griffin’s are letting him take his classes online, so I don’t have to be alone.

It sucks.

Everything sucks.

Everything but me and Griff.

Okay, that’s a lie. Our friends and families have been pretty freaking awesome, too. But other than that? I only want to sleep and cry and sleep and cry and snuggle with Griffin and, you guessed it, sleep and cry.

As we pull up to the house, Griffin parks the car and rounds the front, opening my door and offering his hand. Once we’re inside, he asks, “Bedroom or couch?”

Covering my yawn, I check the time on my phone, surprised to see it’s almost midnight. “Bedroom.”

“Okay.” He kisses the back of my hand. “I’ll be right back.”

“What? Where are you going?”

“Give me five.”

“Five?” I jut out my bottom lip. “Five seconds? Five minutes? Five hours?”

With a low chuckle, he walks toward the door. “Minutes. ”

“But it seems like so long,” I whine.

Glancing over his shoulder, he gives me his signature lopsided smile, then walks away.

Like a lost puppy, I mosey to my room and collapse on the bed, staring at the ceiling. And that’s all it takes. A few seconds of being alone to realize exactly how much I need the guy. He’s been sleeping with me every night. Holding me. Making me smile, even if it’s for short periods of time. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to sleep in my bed alone.

Craning my head, I listen, caught by the quiet thump of…something on the other side of the wall.

My mouth lifts. “Griff?”

The rustling stops, followed by a muffled, “Yeah?”

“Still creepy,” I call.

Pause.

“Yeah.”

“I miss you.”

“Miss you, too, baby.”

Baby. Part of me wondered if I’d ever be able to stomach the word again without being bombarded with loss. But when Griff says it? It makes me feel warm and fuzzy and ooey-gooey inside.

Touching my lips, I realize I’m smiling, and it’s all because of him. “You coming back or what?”

“I said five minutes,” he reminds me through the thin sheetrock.

“Fine, but I’m putting on a timer.” I take out my phone and set the clock to three minutes, rounding down for good measure. “Two minutes!” I call once I reach the mark. The seconds tick down, one after another. “One minute!”

The steady thump thump of feet greets me seconds later, followed by the squeak of my bedroom door opening, revealing a sexy, half-naked Griffin with a poorly wrapped gift in his hands .

“What’s this?”

“It’s a present.” He offers it to me. When he senses my amusement, he adds, “You’ll have to cut me a little slack on the wrap job. Someone was timing me.”

Taking in the crumpled paper and skiwampus tape placement, I cock my head and peek up at him, biting back my grin. “Did you wrap it blindfolded?”

“Nah, that’s your job, remember?” he quips, referring to our New Year’s Eve Game Night.

“Man, that feels like a lifetime ago,” I admit.

“Still can’t believe you gave me the cheek.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment, then sits beside me on the bed.

“Still can’t believe you drove me across the country to tell Drew about our little secret.”

“Our?” he challenges.

“I think it was always you, even if I didn’t want to acknowledge it in the beginning. I mean, even Drew could tell, you know?”

“Yeah.” He nudges my hand. “You gonna open it?”

“Depends. What is it?”

With a low laugh, he shakes his head. “Not telling. Open it.”

Curious, I slip my finger beneath the crooked tape and unroll the black box from the pink and blue polka dot wrapping paper.

“Griff,” I whisper.

“Open it.”

I lift the lid and gasp. Inside is a silver necklace with a small circle that has a date stamped on it. My eyes well with tears. It’s the day I miscarried. The day I felt like I lost everything. “Griff…”

“You can add the rest of our babies’ birthdays as we go.”

A tear slips past the corner of my eye, but I don’t bother wiping it away as I replay his sentence. “Rest of our babies?”

“What? You think we’ll only have one more?” He chuckles dryly. “Come on, Fin. I think we both know we want at least three.”

“Three, huh? That’s an awful lot of assumptions you got going there.” My mouth lifts, and I look down at the necklace again, realizing there’s a second small circle. “What’s this?” I flip the medallion around, noting the date. “I’m sorry, is something happening five years from now?”

“Yeah. It’s the day I’m gonna marry you.”

My heart lurches. “It is?”

“Mm-hmm.” He leans closer and kisses my neck.

“What if I’m busy that day? Hmm?”

“I think you can rearrange your schedule.”

“And where’s the ring?” I challenge, trying not to get too lost in his open-mouthed kisses, especially when we can’t have sex for at least another two weeks, but boy, is he making it difficult.

“Ah, you see, it’s a secret.”

“A secret, huh?”

“Yup.” He scrapes his teeth along my throat, and I nearly moan.

“Who says I was okay with you having a secret without me?”

“I mean, I told you the wedding date, and no one else knows that one, so...”

“So that’s your loophole?” My brow arches. “You have a secret, and we have a secret?”

“Add it to the list, right?” He kisses along the underside of my jaw and nips at the edge of my lips. “Want to know another secret, Finley Taylor?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve never loved anyone else. Not ever. You’re the one for me. And even though the last few weeks have been a bumpy ride, I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“That’s my girl. Now, let me put this on you.”

As I lift my hair from my neck, he takes the simple chain and clasps it around me before pulling me into his arms and kissing me like it’s his last. And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.