I choke back the emotions from my admission as it sends a wave of nausea through me.
The bed shifts as Grace scoots up and grips my chin, moving it slightly so we’re eye to eye.
She caresses my jaw. “Wow, I had no idea. I feel bad that I haven’t been there for you to talk about it with.”
I shake my head. “It’s not exactly something to brag about, so I keep it to myself.”
She lowers her hand, capturing mine in it, and laces our fingers. “Thank you for telling me that. I love learning more about you, and whenever you’re ready to open up about anything else, I’m here.”
And that’s why I knew it was safe for me to tell Grace this.
Other people might push for more—for every damn detail—but Grace waits, allowing me to do it on my time.
I raise a brow. “That doesn’t scare you away?”
She shakes her head. “Of course not.” She squeezes my hand. “Finn, you can’t control the family you were born into. All you can control is the direction you’ve taken your life from there. You? You’re not an addict, you don’t make reckless decisions, and you are a good man, a hard worker, and an amazing boyfriend.”
Boyfriend.
Heat radiates into my chest at that one word.
That one word switches up my mood, evaporating the dread of talking about my family into something better.
No matter what happens, it feels damn good to say that Grace Mitchell is my motherfucking girlfriend, and I’m never letting her go. No, if I can have it my way, Grace Mitchell will be my motherfucking wife.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Grace
Screw the people who said you get used to morning sickness.
I hope you get splinters in your feet.
If there was anything in this world I could damn to hell, it’d be morning sickness.
Scooting away from the toilet, I slouch against the wall and wipe my mouth.
“Again?” Finn asks, walking into the bathroom.
“Again.” I swipe away sweat from my cheek.
He kneels down in front of me, bare-chested and wearing only gym shorts. “If I could, I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.”
He leans in to kiss me, but I swat him away.
“Vomit breath,” I say, cringing.
He chuckles before planting a kiss on my forehead. “I’d still kiss you, vomit breath and all.”
“I sincerely suggest you see a professional for making that comment.”
He stands. “You want me to make you breakfast?”
I raise a brow. “A baby-friendly vodka smoothie?” A grin spreads across my vomit lips. “I’ll let you add kale to make it fun and healthy.”
“Eggs and bacon, coming right up.”
I grab the towel I was using to wipe my forehead and throw it at him as he starts to leave the room. “That isn’t the support the baby books suggest!”
I’m sure the baby isn’t the only one to blame for the nausea.
My nerves are on overdrive about telling my parents today.
On top of that, I’ll be lying to them about who Finn is.
Well, halfway lying.
I’ll tell them I love him—truth.
That we’re dating—another truth.
That I plan to be with him as long as I can—fact.
That he’s the one who knocked me up—big, fat lie.
I shouldn’t be as worried as I am. It’s not like my parents will disown me.
They’ll just be disappointed.
Disappointment is worse than anything.
It’s them saying they had better expectations for me.
He turns to look at me, bracing the doorframe with his hand. “It won’t be that bad, babe. I’ll be by your side all day.”
This has been the longest I’ve gone without seeing my parents.
Not even when I was in college was it this long.
I probably would’ve tried for longer had my mother not left a voicemail, threatening to show up at my house and work if I didn’t attend family dinner today. I’m surprised it took her this long. I went from seeing them every week to being a no-show for months. They have to know something is up. The question is, what do they think it is?
Wiping my sweaty hand down my dress, I cast a curious glance at Finn when he drives up the long driveway to my parents’ house.
“Wow,” Finn comments, staring at the two-story white-bricked home. “This is a nice place.” His gaze casts to me. “Have you lived here your entire life?”
I shake my head. “We moved here in my teens, and I moved out after college.”
My mind wanders to where we lived before and how I preferred it. The fireplace was warmer. The living room cozier. The pantry and my bedroom larger. I wanted to live there forever, but then it became tainted—nothing but a reminder of what’d happened there. So, we ran away to this home, hoping it’d become our new favorite.
“You ready for this?”
Finn tenderly brushing my arm drags me out of my thoughts.
“I am,” I lie, unbuckling my seat belt and gripping the door handle.
Finn is already nervous. Me telling him how anxious I am would only make it worse for him. We get out of the car, and he meets me at my door, taking my hand in his. With every step we take up the walkway, I second-guess myself. When we reach my mother’s flower bed, scattered with roses and tulips, I halt, taking a moment to prepare myself.
At least it’s only pretending about one thing.
Not a relationship.
The sweet scent of my mother’s favorite cherry candle welcomes us. As if they knew we were here, my parents are waiting for us in the foyer. Dropping Finn’s hand, I curl my arms around my stomach to hide it. I chose a loose-fitting dress for today, but that doesn’t mean I’m not apprehensive about my growing belly. I’m not showing that much, but there’s a baby bump you can’t miss if you pay close attention.
My mother, her hair color the same as mine but shorter, stands in front of us, wearing an emerald dress with gemstone earrings. Her gaze is scrutinizing as if her brain is working to find out why I’ve been dodging them. I fail to meet her eyes and swiftly move them to my father. He’s a tall man, on the skinny side, and his face is unreadable—as per usual.
He’s not looking at me. No, his gaze is focused on Finn—full of concern and caution.
I chew on my lower lip, wishing I’d mentioned Finn would be with me. I’d stupidly left out I was bringing a plus-one.
Needing to take the lead on this one, I exhale a deep breath. “Mom. Dad.” I drop one of my hands to motion to Finn. “This is Finn. My … boyfriend. Finn, these are my parents, Tyra and Gregory.”
It’s Finn’s turn to be scrutinized by my mother. She’s assessing him as she does her clients. Finn dressed for the occasion—a black button-up shirt, dark jeans—and his hair is freshly cut.
I clear my throat, dragging my mom back into the conversation.
She shoots Finn a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Finn.” Her eyes briefly move to my stomach, as if she knows, but everyone turns to the door when it swings open.
The sun beams through the doorway as Raven sprints into the house, one of her sandals flying off in the process.