Father Christmas

“Christ, baby girl.” I pull her against me, cradling the back of her head like she’s a baby. She doesn’t return the hug, but it’s enough for me to hold her, to feel her chest rise and fall with mine. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because you left without saying goodbye,” she says firmly. I let her push me back a step. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

“Of course I want to hear from you. Especially about this. Astrid, I’m so fucking sorry—”

“Don’t. I don’t care if you don’t want this baby, Finn. It’s mine, and I’m having it.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want it.” I’ll admit, when I first realized she was pregnant, I wasn’t sure how to feel. I needed to know how she felt about the prospect of having my child. Now that I know she wants this baby, I can let myself be happy about it, too.

“I should get back,” she says. “Please don’t say anything. I don’t want to ruin everyone’s Christmas.”

“I’m not gonna say a word.” The sad reality is, the announcement of Astrid’s pregnancy—something that should be joyous—won’t be cause for celebration because of who the father is. I fucking hate that my involvement has made a monumental life event into something she has to hide under baggy sweaters.

Flattening my palm at the small of her back, I encourage her to press against me. She won’t be able to hide this bump forever, but for now, our little secret can stay right here, between us, where it should’ve been from the beginning.

“You’re not mad?” she asks.

“Fuck no. Why would I be?” I skim my knuckles along her jawline, wishing I could kiss her. But we do have to get back, and if I kiss her now, I won’t be able to stop at that. Instinct will take over, and I’ll be forced to take her here and now, against the bathroom wall. “We need to talk about this, Astrid.”

“Do we, though?” She leans into my touch and then pulls away, like she’s just remembered I’m the one she’ssupposed to be mad at. “Fine. We can talk in my room tonight, after everyone’s gone to bed.”

She looks like she’s not sure whether to smile or cry. I’ve never felt so ashamed of my actions, yet so grateful for the consequences of my so-called mistakes. Falling for my best friend’s daughter, pleasuring her, coming inside her without protection. These are the deeds I’m supposed to regret. But I don’t regret them. Not even for a second.

My only regret is that I didn’t spend the night in her bed.

I have to hope that Astrid can forgive me; it’s the only way we’ll be able to raise this kid together. I get a warm feeling in my chest at the thought of holding our baby in my arms. Jamie always said I’d make a great dad one day. I’m pretty sure this wasn’t the scenario he had in mind when he said it, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

Letting Astrid go is difficult, but I don’t want to give anyone back at the table a reason to suspect anything. Most of her kin are early birds, so I won’t have to wait long to be alone with my girl again. Tonight, I’ll give Astrid the explanation she deserves, and promise to do whatever it takes to rebuild her trust in me. I’ll move back to Troy to be with her, if it’s what she wants. Work a nine-to-five job, buy a house, get down on one knee and ask her to be my wife.

I’ll make sure she never wants for anything and love her the best I can until the day I stop breathing.

Wait up for me, baby. Daddy’s coming home for Christmas, and he’s here to stay.