Slip of the Tongue (Slip of the Tongue 1)

We laugh, and Bell comes sprinting out of her bedroom. There’s a picture of Sleeping Beauty plastered on her pink nightgown. I’m grateful that despite her tatted-up, hard-hearted mechanic of a father, she’s still as girly as she is. She shouts, “I won’t go to bed. I won’t. Aunt Sadie is here. I need girl time.”

Andrew falls onto the couch with a palm in the air. “Jesus Christ, kid. Fine. Stay up all night and fall asleep on the beam tomorrow. See if I care.”

She’s already jumping onto the cushion between us. She chatters for a good ten minutes, and I wish Nathan were here. He’d hang on her every word. Bell winds down like a toy, her words slurring and her eyelids drooping. She lays her head in her dad’s lap and her feet in mine. In the middle of a story about lecturing the class bully, she passes out.

“How’re things here?” I ask, nodding at her. “How’s Bell?”

“Perfection. Kicking ass and taking names, as usual.”

I expect nothing less from her and no smaller response to that question from him. “School?”

“Her teachers stop me nearly every day to tell me how well she’s doing.”

Slowly, I raise my eyebrows at him. I don’t think Andrew’s that dense, but I will gladly point it out. “You don’t seriously believe that’s why they stop you.”

He shrugs, settling back into the couch. “They want to talk about how great my girl is, I’m happy to let them.”

“They’re trying to get your attention, dummy.”

He shrugs. “Whatever.”

“Don’t whatever me.” That Andrew has permanently removed himself from the market is a disservice to women everywhere. Aside from the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing he’s got going on, he’s also smart, quick on his feet, and a stellar dad. His business is successful too. He won’t hear me, though, and I wish he’d take his own advice, but he’s content to live out his days doting over Bell. “You know I’m not giving up. What’s the latest girl update?”

“I have a special one in my life.”

“Besides Bell. What happened with that date you had last weekend?”

He sighs with exasperation. “For the last time, it wasn’t a date. I went over to her house in the middle of the day to look under her hood. That’s all.”

“And what did you find?” Like Bell, I thin my lips into a taut line to keep from giggling. “Under her hood?”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “A busted carburetor. The thing was ancient. Float valve wasn’t shutting off the flow of fuel—”

I wave my hands to stop the assault of words I don’t understand and don’t care to. “All right, all right. I’ll back off. For now.”

Andrew looks down on Bell, stroking her hair. “Have you given our conversation over Halloween any more thought?”

“About switching to almond milk?” I quip. He gives me a look that says everything. I know what he wants to hear. “How can I even think about that while my marriage is imploding?”

“Are you kidding? Now’s the time to think about all this shit. To figure out what you really want, Sadie. What’s most important.” He pauses to let his words sink in. “You’d be a good mom.”

Instinctively, I cross my arms over my stomach. Nathan isn’t the only one who wants this for us. Andrew has been pushing me for a while to get deeper into this subject. “You and Shana barely touched, and she got pregnant,” I say. “I’m sorry, but you don’t know what it’s like to feel so empty when you want nothing more than to feel . . . full. And then to be reminded of that monthly. Daily.”

“I see. So you’re finally admitting you want it again?”

I blink several times. Of course that’s what he’d get when I’m trying to explain something else. “I meant before. When we were trying. Now, I’m still unsure I want it at all.”

“So, what’d the doctor say? You’re definitely infertile?”

I pinch my eyebrows together, my mind running over our last conversation at Halloween. I never said I’d get tested. “What doctor?”

“Exactly,” he says, pumping his fist like he just schooled me. “You don’t even know what the deal is, and you’re flipping out. Listen to me. Step one—find out if there’s a problem. Step two—go from there. You can’t skip over the first step.”

I swallow audibly, feeling warm just at the idea of seeing my gynecologist about this. “It’s not that simple.”

“How come?”

“Because . . .”

“Because being a pussy is easier?”

I gasp. “Andrew.”

He chuckles. “It’s true, isn’t it? You’re scared to find out the results, so you won’t go. You’re scared to disappoint Nate, so you’re going to give up. Just like when we were kids, and you hid under the fucking bed while Mom and Dad fought. It was cute then. Not anymore.”

I clamp my mouth shut, sufficiently schooled. Andrew makes it sound so simple, but knowing the truth could change everything—not just my marriage, but my life. Am I ready for that? Could I ever be?

“She’s a lot like you were, you know.” Andrew admires his daughter. “Sometimes, I look at her and see you. I tried to protect you as long as I could. And when I get scared or worried about her and the future, it comforts me to know how well you turned out. Even if you are a fucking pussy.”

I want to be mad at him for forcing me to confront things I’d prefer to keep buried, but I’m not. In the comfort of his home, surrounded by two of the three people I love most in the world, all I can do is laugh along with him.

THIRTY-FIVE

Nathan asked me to come home in the morning, but I don’t. I call into work again and stop by my gynecologist for an overdue visit. He tries to turn me away without an appointment, but after talking to Andrew, the truth can’t wait. Nathan and I need to have an honest conversation about what we want, and to do that, I have to know if I can even give him a baby. Eventually, Doctor Harris takes pity on me and squeezes me in between patients.

And once I’m finished there, that’s when I go home. With my duffel bag slung over my shoulder, I get off the elevator on the sixth floor, stop at Finn’s apartment, and hesitate. I can’t bring myself to knock. Finn is beautiful, sexy, kind. He’s a father, a lover, a real man. He will never be Nathan, though.

I rap my knuckles and wait. Standing in front of 6A isn’t the same as it’s been the last few weeks. There’s no buzzing in my veins or brimming possibility. Finn comes to the door eventually, in the same manner as always. Hurried, caught off guard. He’s sweating, which makes me wonder if the heater broke again. I don’t ask. It’s not my business.

His gaze drops to my duffel bag, and then he looks at me, his eyes greener than ever and round with excitement. I can’t get myself to speak and kill that in him. I hesitate too long.

“Sadie—” His face splits with a grin. He grabs me, pulling me in, pressing me to his warm, damp chest. His heart beats hard, undeniable. He sighs into my hair. “You’ve made me the happiest man. I was in Connecticut yesterday, but I’ve been at it all day today, putting furniture together, unpacking boxes.”

It’s a killer hug, one to obliterate any before it. My body is stiff, though—and my decision solidifies. I might’ve thought I could love him as second place, but I can’t. These aren’t Nathan’s arms around me. Maybe over time, they’d come close, but that?

?s not enough for me.

Almost imperceptibly, Finn’s grip on me loosens. And then he lets go. He draws back and this time, he takes a beat to study my face. His eyes roam, and his lips—the ones I could look at, touch, kiss all day—they droop at the corners.

“Finn—” I start.

“Ah, fuck,” he says with a step back. He grabs the hair at his crown in a fist. “Wait. Whatever you’re about to say—”

“Don’t?” I ask. “That won’t make it less true.”

“Sadie.” He comes back. Takes my shoulders. Puts his face close to mine. “You don’t have to stay in a bad marriage. Divorce is scary—trust me, I know. We’ll do it together, though. We will be each other’s support.”

“What are we going to do, Finn? Live here, with Nathan across the hall?”

“We’ll go anywhere you want. Rome. Paris. The Lower East Side. I don’t care.”

“It won’t work.”

“Come inside.” His eyes flicker between the elevator and my apartment door. “Let’s talk.”

“I’m not going in there.”

“Why not?” He gets excited, his veins cording his forearms. “Because you’re afraid of what’s between us? If we can’t be alone together, that means something.”

“That’s not the reason,” I say. My attraction to Finn still lives, but suddenly, my love for Nathan locks over my heart, strong, protective. Finn checks the hallway again. I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. I, on the other hand, don’t bother to look. If Nathan comes out now, I’d rather get caught on Finn’s doorstep than hide inside his apartment.

“Nathan knows.”

He pauses, blinking at me. “What?”

“I told him.”

“I—” Finn blows out a breath and leans his hands against the doorframe, gripping it until they’re red. “I wish you’d discussed it with me first.”

I want to run into my apartment, disappear from this spot, or at the very least, close my eyes against the hurt in his face. I have to face him, though, and I can’t leave any room for misinterpretation, because there’s no room for him in my heart. “There wasn’t anything to discuss,” I say. “I wasn’t planning on it.”