Page 19 of Masquerade Mistake

It’s just after midnight when I finally head to bed. With everything I’ve learned, plus half a bottle of wine, I’m feeling the late hour. I wash the makeup from my face, pausing when I hear my phone ding.

Ethan: Goodnight Claire, I can’t wait to see you again.

It’s been a while since I’ve dated, but I’m pretty sure the rules haven’t changed. No one texts the same night as a first date. Right? Knowing she’s still up, I text Maren just to be sure.

Maren: It’s one of the dating commandments. Thou shall not text immediately after first date.

Me: So, it’s a bad thing?

Maren: No, it’s good. It means he’s into you and isn’t afraid for you to know.

I lay my head on my pillow, a wide smile on my face. He likes me. This could actually be something, if I just turn off my brain and let my heart lead for a while.

I tap into my phone.

Me: Goodnight Ethan. Sweet dreams.

Chapter 8

At some point in the night, Finn found his way into my room. I wake in the morning at the very edge of the bed as he sleeps sideways, his feet pressed into my back. How he managed to take up the entire queen-sized mattress without waking me is impressive. He moves in his sleep, stretching his legs even more so that I have to brace myself to stay in the bed.

“Come on, Finn,” I mutter as I pry his feet off me. He murmurs something incoherent, staying asleep as I roll him toward the middle of the bed. I can smell the brewed coffee in the kitchen, thanks to the auto timer on my coffeepot. But before I get up to grab a cup, I linger for a moment to watch my sleeping son.

All this time, I only saw myself in him. Now, his long lashes brushing the top of his cheeks, I see the hidden parts of him, features I never noticed before—features that remind me of his father. Staring at my little boy, it’s hard not to feel like I’m looking at a stranger. As soon as I think it, I want to bat the thought away. Of course Finn isn’t a stranger. He’s my everything, my little guy. I know him like he’s an extension of my soul. And yet…for the first time I’m seeing the portion of him that isn’t me, the parts he shares with another human on this earth.

A grain of despair gathers volume in my belly, rolling about as it grows into something bitter and unrecognizable. It’s ridiculous, really. Did I actually believe Finn was made up of 100% of my DNA?

Is Finn curious about his dad?

All the fears I had last night drape over me like a shadow, leaving me cold as I watch Finn purse his lips in his sleep. The selfish part of me wants to hide my son away, to protect him from anyone who might jeopardize the life I’ve created for both of us.

But I’m still questioning who I’m protecting—Finn or me?

I leave Finn in bed, padding to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee. As I sip the hot beverage, I recall the four words Ethan said that pained me then, but now offer a nugget of hope.

I don’t want kids.

At the time he said it, I saw any kind of future with him go up in smoke. Now, I see it as a beacon that he won’t try to take Finn away. Maybe. I think. At any rate, it’s all I have to cling to.

I’m tempted to just call the whole thing off and cut him loose. It would be better to end things now before we develop stronger feelings. Then Ethan can live his happy, carefree, childless life, and Finn and I can go back to the way it was before I entertained the idea of potentially bringing a man into our lives.

Then I think again of my own father. There’s little possibility I’ll ever know who he is, and while I’m fine with that, there’s a small part of me that wishes I had the chance. Would I recognize our shared features? Does he tell jokes, or is he serious? Does he have another family? Do I have any brothers or sisters? Is he the kind of man I’d want as my father? Judging by the guys my mom brought home, it’s doubtful. But what if he was the one exception? I’d never know.

Finn has the chance to know. Even though I feel selfish about sharing him, I know I can’t deny Finn this chance to know who his dad is. I mean…within reason. I still want to make sure that Ethan isn’t some asshole who will ruin our lives or break our hearts, which is why it’s still important I get to know him first.

But before I can do that, I need to understand why he doesn’t want kids.

Insomniacs is packed for a weekday morning; you’d think people would be at work or school. Every table is filled with couples or groups clutching froth-filled mugs, the din of conversation mingling with the shush of espresso at the barista station and the triphop jazz playing softly from the speakers. I get in line, peeking around the guy in front of me to get a good look at Nina who’s busy ringing everyone up with a bored look on her face. Today, her platinum hair has neon pink streaks in it, the same color as her impossibly long nails. I look at my own nails, bitten short with chipped green nail polish, and feel my lack of style to the full. Of course, I don’t have to struggle typing.. But neither does Nina, from the looks of it.

I reach the front of the line, and a flicker of interest crosses Nina’s expression. It’s just a flash before the apathetic look returns to her face. But it’s enough to recognize her curiosity about how last night went Ethan.

“I’d like a honey lavender latte with bee pollen,” I order. “And I’d like to talk with you when you’re on your break.”

Nina taps her long nails on the counter, and for a moment I think she’s going to say no. I glance at the coffee station where Maren is working, and she shoots me a questioning look. I hadn’t told her I was stopping in, mostly because I was so nervous about it to begin with.

“My break is in forty-five,” Nina says, bringing my attention back to her. “But I’m eating while we talk.” She smirks, and it’s possibly the first time I’ve ever seen her smile…if you can call it that. “I wondered if you’d come talk with me.” Then she looks at the person behind me, dismissing me to wait for my coffee.

I manage to snag a table just as a couple is leaving. They left rings of coffee on the surface, and I set my cup down to find napkins, but Maren beats me to the punch.

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