Page 149 of The Hot Shot
“I’m sorry I left the way I did,” I finally say.
Finn stirs. “I wasn’t hearing you when you said you were afraid. Not the way you needed me to hear it, anyway.”
He turns his hand so that my palm rests on his and he’s now holding me. “You think I need to father a child to be happy because of what I lost. It was easier for me to brush that aside with quick assurances than to really ask myself if that was true.”
A tremor goes through me, and he tightens his grip as if he knows I want to pull away. Finn’s voice is steady and sure, but taut with a hint of wryness. “Football is easy, if you want to know the truth. Easy in the way that I’m gifted. I can do it well. If I fail, it’s all on me. I can control that.”
Long fingers curl over mine. “I never really lost anything that mattered to me until the baby. I couldn’t control that. It changed me, made me afraid. What I feel for you is fucking terrifying because I can’t control you, either. I can only love you and hope for the best—that you’ll love me back, that I can keep you safe and happy.”
“I am happy,” I whisper, turning farther into his body to press close. “You’ve always made me happy. I panicked, but I shouldn’t have. Because you are worth any risk.”
He lets that absorb, pressing his lips to my head. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that, Chess. But I owe you ananswer. Because I panicked, too. And I should have taken that same risk.”
Nerves pluck at my belly. I don’t know why; he loves me. I love him. I know my worth, and I know he sees it, too. But some feelings cannot be changed, no matter how much you want to ignore them. I let him have his say.
Maybe it’s hard for him, because he takes his time, measuring his words as if they have weight.
“Thing is, when I lost my child... I lost someone to love. I didn’t realize it until then, but I needed that. I needed love in my life. Someone who makes all the effort worth it.” Finn shifts on the bed so that we’re face-to-face. “I love you, Chester Copper. More than anything. It isn’t a matter of that being good enough, it is essential. You take yourself out of the equation and the rest has no meaning.”
I don’t know who moves first. Our kisses are soft and sweet, apologies mixed with promises. After a lingering press of his mouth to mine, Finn strokes the sensitive side of my neck with the backs of his fingers. “You want to adopt a child, employ a surrogate, do both, that’s what we’ll do. But I don’t need that. Not now.”
“I don’t need that now, either. I’m happy with it being just us.”
His cheek brushes mine. “Whatever we choose, we’ll do it together. As long as we’re together, Chess.”
“Together.” It is a word ripe with possibilities, and I cannot wait.
Epilogue
Chess
In the spring, Finn bought me a house for my birthday. I let him. It was surprising how liberating it felt, not worrying about what kind of message that sent or if I’d be trapping myself by allowing him to spend so much money. I’d placed my life in his hands, and he’d done the same. Every day, the threads of our lives grew more intertwined, and we were stronger for it.
We chose a house on Third Street in the Garden District. Built in the 1850s, it was a Greek revival style with double galleries along the front and the back of the house, and surrounded by wide lawns, with a pool tucked in the back. We painted the stucco a pale violet to represent New Orleans’s purple, with white for the trim. The high iron gates, which we needed for privacy, were a glossy dark green. I was in love, true love, with the massive old house.
When I found out that Dex’s girlfriend, Fiona, was both an interior designer and furniture maker, I went to her for help. While Finn was at training camp, Fi and I started decorating. Between the two of us, we chose an ebony stain for the floors and clean white paint for the walls to let the architecture shine. We kept the furniture comfortable but with modern lines, set up a home gym and movie room, an art studio in the attic, and a photography studio in an outbuilding near the back of theproperty that had its own entrance, and I loved the space more than my old loft.
Was the house too big for Finn and me? It didn’t feel that way. We filled it with friends and family and love. In the summer, we hosted James and Jamie’s wedding. I ended up getting drunk and inelegantly bawling during my best woman speech. Finn consoled me by taking me skinny-dipping later that night when all the guests had gone. He’d been right: drunken sex with someone you love really was fun—in a sloppy, no-holds-barred, “wake up the neighbors” kind of way.
By the time fall arrived, our house was our home, and I loved Finn with a depth I didn’t know I was capable of.
“I can’t believe I thought this was a good idea,” Fi grumbles as she stands before the mirror in my dressing room. We’re close friends now, and I’m only sorry we didn’t meet sooner.
I take in the little green dress, so short it barely covers her bum, and the shimmery pink tights with matching ballet flats. “You look cute as hell.”
Fi scowls and flicks one of the iridescent wings strapped to her back. “Cute? I’m a masochist is what I am. My whole life I’ve been compared to Tinker Bell. And now I’m dressing up like her, for fuck’s sake.”
Petite with killer curves, a button nose, big green eyes, and wispy blond hair, Fiona definitely looks the part.
I grin wide. “Embracing your inner Tink gives you power over her. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Shut up.”
“Dex will lose his shit when he sees that dress.”
She grins, too. “That’s the plan.”
“What is he going as?”
