21
Macey
The light knock on my door startles me. It’s late and no one knows where we live. I keep the television on and peek down the hall to see if Morgan is coming out of her room before padding my way over to the door. Thank God for carpet—even if it’s run-down and threadbare, it still muffles the sound of my feet.
Covering my mouth to hide the audible gasp, I look through the peephole again to make sure I’m not seeing things. Finn stands there with his head down, focusing on something that I can’t see. I slump against the door and will him away. I don’t want to talk to him and I certainly don’t want to see him.
It’s been two days since Finn came to town and rattled my foundation. Running into him at the mall was happenstance. I didn’t expect him to recognize any of his features in Morgan, but as soon as he saw her, he saw the same things I see on a daily basis: her eyes, hair and crazy smile are the best of the both of us.
When I saw the confusion in his eyes, I did what I’ve done best my whole life—I avoided him. I refused to look at him, keeping my gaze on Morgan. I knew the minute he asked the burning question I’d crumple into a heap if I were looking at him.
It was only after I answered him that I knew my mistake, and he wasn’t going to let me forget it. Hours after we ran into him, for the first time since he gave it to me, the phone started to chime with alerts. I had been letting Morgan play with it, but knew he’d use it to reach out to me that night. I have yet to answer him, wondering how he knows where we live.
“Macey, open up.”
I freeze, wishing my walls weren’t paper thin. He knocks again, causing me to jump.
“Look, I know you’re in there. The television is on and I smell your perfume through the door.”
Bastard.
Working the dead bolt and chain, I open the door, wishing immediately that I hadn’t. Finn is everything and more, standing there with his sexed-up hair, devilishly handsome looks and bedroom fuck-me eyes, and he’s taking me all in. I don’t miss the very hard swallow he performs when he reaches my eyes.
“Can I come in?”
I shake my head, not wanting him in my personal space. This apartment is the one thing I have that is mine, granted he paid for it, but it’s still mine. I don’t want him here, interrupting our lives, blowing in and out like a windstorm. Morgan and I don’t need or want this kind of life. We’re happy being the two of us.
“Macey, we need to talk.”
“We have nothing to say to each other. I know I owe you another day. I can meet you tomorrow.”
He shakes his head. “This isn’t about that and you know it.”
Maybe if I close my eyes and wish real hard, I’ll be transported back to the Hoover Dam where Finn is standing behind me, with his body pressed to mine and asking me what I wished for. I’d tell him then, if it would mean he’s not standing here now.
“Please, you owe me this, Macey. I’ve been patient and tried to give you time, but you’re ignoring me. You haven’t been at work and you’re leaving me with very few choices here. I’m not leaving until we talk. We can do this outside so your neighbors can hear, or inside where it’s only us.”
“We can’t have sex.”
He chuckles and runs his hand through his hair before smiling at me. “Macey, sex seems to be something we do very well together, yet I agree with you. Tonight, we are going to sit on your couch and talk.”
I step away from the door and let him in. My apartment embarrasses me, considering what he grew up in and where he lives now. This place is old, run-down and not in the best neighborhoods, but better than where we used to live.
Finn looks around before he settles on the wall of photos that I put up of Morgan. I don’t have a lot of baby pictures, but the ones I do have are hanging as our wall décor.
“I want to hear the words out of your mouth, Macey.”
I bite my lower lip and wring my hands. Earlier in life, I’d thought about how many ways I’d tell him that he had a daughter or that I was pregnant, but now that he’s standing here and knows that he does, I can’t seem to make my mouth open and my tongue move.
Instead, I sit down on the couch and turn the volume up a bit higher so Morgan doesn’t hear us. When he sits down on the couch, he’s at the other end, putting enough space between us that I feel like I’m a leper.