I shake my head. “I can’t ask him to do that.”
“Why?” Cassidy asks. “I bet you twenty bucks he’d totally say yes.”
Chapter Eight
Finn
Not much relaxes me.
I play the role of the opposite—the laid-back guy who cracks jokes and doesn’t have a care in the world. I’m a good pretender—always have been. I tricked my teachers into thinking my dad worked so much that he wasn’t able to attend any conferences or events. I convinced child services that I didn’t stay home alone all night because my father was out, not giving a shit about his son.
I’m a survivor, and what better way to survive than to act like you don’t give a shit?
At least tonight, being with friends will clear my mind from my dad’s bullshit. The day after I paid for his car repairs, he called and needed money for his electric bill. He claimed it had to be paid in two hours or they’d shut it off.
It’s his normal MO. He asks for shit last minute to create urgency of getting what he wants. You can’t say, Let me call you back in a few hours, or question him because if you wait too long, there’s always the dreaded reconnection fee.
Reconnection fees have fucked me more than any ex-girlfriend.
Like the dumbass I always am, I paid it while he bitched in the background on how dare I lecture where he spends his money.
“Less on drugs, more on bills,” is what I’d said.
Only the guys know about my father, and out of respect for me, they’ve always kept it hush-hush around others. Grace discovering the trash I grew up as terrifies me. Her family is structured—wealthy and stand-up people. Not only that, but if her father has a good memory, he’d warn her about me.
It’s the main reason that has stopped me from making her mine. There’s too much against us to make it work, and now, her being pregnant with another man’s baby only adds fuel to that messy fire.
The gang is already there when I walk into Cohen’s backyard. Our group tends to get together as often as we can. Cohen has a kick-ass yard, where we grill out, play cornhole, and celebrate special occasions if the weather isn’t shitty.
As if on autopilot, I immediately scan the yard for Grace. I don’t care what the occasion is; Grace is always the first person on my mind. She’s sitting at a table with Georgia, Lola, Cassidy, Lincoln, and Silas, and before I reach them, I pause and smile, watching her from across the yard.
My favorite is when she doesn’t know I’m watching or that she’s on display for anyone. Laid-back Grace is the best Grace. It’s a heavenly sight when she puts her guard down. Her playful behavior tears through that daily polished appearance. Just like my bliss is when I’m with our friends, it’s also when the true Grace shines.
Her strawberry-blonde hair is pulled back from her face with two thick braids entwined along her forehead. Her plump lips are a soft pink, and a white silk top falls off one shoulder. Looking at Grace, you’d see her fitting into a puzzle with a man sporting loafers and a thousand-dollar polo. Not me—a man who doesn’t give a shit what the label on his shirt says, who has a few tats and overgrown stubble on his cheeks.
We’re not supposed to fit.
Yet we perfectly click.
For a moment, I forget how shit has changed for us, how we’ll never be the same even though I’d pay for our friendship to never change course.
When her eyes meet mine, I stroll toward her.
A light brush of wind hits my cheeks when I stop behind her chair.
“Hey you,” I say, wrapping my arms around her shoulders.
Her body relaxes against my touch, and a smile tugs at her lips when she tips her head back to peer at me. “Hi.”
I give her shoulders a slight squeeze before pulling back and taking the chair next to her. It’s open as if everyone knew next to her is always my spot.
I clasp my hands together and focus on her. “How are you feeling?”
She sighs. “I’m feeling okay … just working and silently asking God why he made wine bad for pregnant women.” Her cheeks turn rosy as she scrunches up her face. “Why can’t wine be like vitamins? A daily prenatal glass of wine.”
I chuckle before tipping my head toward Silas. “Make Grace a kick-ass nonalcoholic drink.”
Silas isn’t a drinker, so he’s mastered the skill of concocting nonalcoholic drinks some would prefer over the real thing.
“I’ve already tried. Her pregnant taste buds think all of them suck,” Silas replies, shrugging.
“I’m picky,” Grace mutters.
My attention returns to her. “Other than the no-liquor inconvenience, how are you doing?”
“Shitty,” Lincoln answers for her, bringing it to my attention that everyone’s eyes are on us. “She needs a baby daddy. Any suggestions on where she can get one?”
“Seriously?” Grace narrows her eyes at him.
My gut twists, and I hate him for even mentioning that idea. “I can’t help with that, babe, but if there’s anything else you need—”
“You can help with it,” Cassidy interrupts, leaning forward from across the table. “Do you have plans for the next six or seven months?”
I raise a brow, knowing where she’s going with this but hoping I’m wrong.
Cassidy gestures to Grace, who’s giving her a shut up signal by slicing her hand against her throat. “She needs a baby daddy, and, Finn, I think you’re the man for the job.”
“Don’t listen to them,” Grace rushes out. “They’ve been lucky enough to have alcohol, and they have lost their senses.”
“Come on, Finn,” Georgia cuts in. “Grace is nervous about telling her parents she’s pregnant on top of there being no father. She hates disappointing people. I’d paint a beard on myself and stuff some socks into my pants to make it appear like I had a cock, but they already know me.”
Grace does a sweeping gesture toward everyone at the table. “I am killing all of you.”
“Look,” Lincoln says, his eyes on me, “it’s not like you have anything better to do. Everyone is coupled up, except Silas and you, and I doubt Grace wants Silas playing baby daddy.”
Silas slaps his hand over his heart. “That’s rude, asshole.”
Lincoln shrugs. “It’ll be a little awkward when you later become Lola’s baby daddy.”
Silas smirks at Lola, grabbing her chair and dragging it closer to his. “I’ll take that.”
Lola ruffles her hand through his thick hair. “In your dreams.”
“Every damn night, baby.” Silas slaps a kiss to her cheek, only inches from her lips.
“Back to the topic at hand,” Cassidy says, her tone serious. “You game to play baby daddy, Finn?”
“You don’t have to listen to them.” Grace’s voice is panicked.
“You should definitely listen to us,” Georgia corrects.
All eyes are on me.
Everyone is quiet.
Including Grace.
As I peek at her, I read every emotion on her face.
There’s fear.
I’m not sure which is stronger, though—fear of me rejecting the idea or fear of disappointing her family, who mean the world to her. She’s not begging me to say no, not walking away, only staring ahead and waiting for my response.