Page 34 of The Complication with the Best Man

He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Can we exchange numbers?”

“You’re right, that is more awkward.” I pull my phone out of my purse and hand it to him.

He inputs his number, then texts himself so that he has my number.

“I’ll text you when I know when I’ll be back in town, but if you need anything before then, just let me know.” He passes me back my phone.

“Sounds good.” I slide my phone into my purse and stand awkwardly for a moment. “Finn, I just want to reiterate that I don’t expect anything from you. I?—”

He raises his hand. “Enough with that, okay? I don’t know what this is going to look like going forward, but I do know that I’m not going to just pretend this isn’t happening.” Finn looks at me expectantly, and I nod. “All right, I have to go pack my things then head to the airport. I’ll be in touch.”

We look at each other for a beat, further awkwardness spreading over us like a blanket. If he’s like me, he’s wondering how we say goodbye—do we shake hands, hug, do none of that? I’m the mother of his child, but at the same time, I’m nothing at all to him. This whole situation is weird.

In the end, I thumb over my shoulder. “I’m parked that way, so I’ll see you when I see you, I guess.”

He nods, lips pressed together, and I turn and walk down Main Street toward my car.

So far, this has gone better than I expected. So why do I feel as though I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop?

fourteen

FINN

Iarrive back in Vermont with dread pooling in my stomach. My life has been a series of one-hundred-eighty degree turns in the past couple of months.

Even the long flight back didn’t settle the fact that I’m going to be a father. I know it’s the reality of my situation, but it still feels like an idea, a vague concept. Me? A dad? I blow out a breath.

I’m completely on edge. When the flight attendant stopped by my seat on the plane, for the first time since I got sober, I had the urge to order a drink. I’m going to have to be careful how I navigate my path forward and make sure that I continue my recovery. I won’t be any good to anyone if I start drinking again.

So, the first thing I do the next morning when I wake up is attend an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. When I get back in my car afterward, I feel as though I have my head on straight, and I’m ready to talk to Tamra. We already have plans for me to meet her at her place this evening.

She’s expecting me to give her the updates on what Harper and I accomplished for the wedding this past weekend. I feel like a total asshole knowing I’m going to pull the rug out from under her instead.

I spend the day going to the gym and putting in a longer-than-normal workout, then I head to the fire station to arrange for some time off. All the while, I consider my options.

If I don’t marry Tamra, the people I love will be affected. Hell, I don’t even know if Tamra will want to marry me after she hears what I have to say. Though I think that she will, given what she’s getting from our deal.

But marrying Tamra will mean living in Vermont for at least a few years, until our obligations are over, which means being away from my son or daughter.

Is that the kind of father I want to be in my child’s life? The one who flies in for birthdays and holidays and sees my kid more through a screen than in person? No, it isn’t.

Growing up, both my parents were active in my life. I had a wonderful upbringing in a solid family unit, and I want the same for my child. Harper and I aren’t a couple, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be great coparents. Just look at Hudson and Palmer and how well they coparented Adley before they got together.

The idea of giving anything less to my child feels abhorrent.

I know what I have to do, but in doing so, I’m going to end up hurting some of the people I care most about.

When it’s time to head to Tamra’s, I take a deep breath before climbing in my truck. I don’t take the hurt I’ll be inflicting lightly. The only thing guiding me is that I need to be a presence in my child’s life. I’ll have to figure out another way to help my parents.

I knock twice when I reach Tamra’s house, then walk in as I always do.

“I’m in the kitchen,” she calls from the back of the house.

Her place is about four times the size of the place I rent since she comes from wealth. It’s where we planned to live after the wedding. The wedding that will no longer happen.

I walk into the kitchen to find her dishing out food from Chinese takeout containers onto a plate.

“Hey.” She looks up from what she’s doing then back down at the plate. “Figured we could talk over takeout. I’m starving.”

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