Heartbreaker(16)

So when Lottie broke the news she was pregnant, and we all scrambled to figure out how to support her, I leapt at the chance like the lifeline it was, using it as an excuse to get off that one-way road to nowhere and come back to the person I wanted to be. I left that spinning, desperate girl in another city, and shed that skin like it had never existed at all.

And I’m glad I came back. I wouldn’t have missed this time with Kit for the world, and I know it’s been a huge help to Lottie having a babysitter on call to take him off her hands, even if it’s only for a few hours. Still, there’s a part of me that wonders. If I’d taken a different path, would I be back in the city right now, making a life as an actress, going on auditions and winning those great, career-making roles? Did I let my heartbreak and stupid self-destruction steer me so far off-course that there’s no getting back to who I wanted to be?

I push away the thought and look around. Oak Harbor isn’t exactly a consolation prize. It’s a beautiful part of the world with a real sense of community. If I was in the city, I’d be fighting my way through a crowded sidewalk, but here the air is crisp and clear, tangy with salt, and the bay curves lazily against the blue of the ocean.

This is the life I picked, I tell myself. This is where I’m supposed to be.

I keep strolling, but suddenly a brave gull flies too close. It settles on the rim of the stroller and peers inside. Kit lets out a startled cry. “Shoo!” I try to scare it away, but it’s too late. By the time the bird moves on, Kit is wailing so loud, I swear they could hear us all the way across town. He used to be such a placid guy, but these days he’s getting a head start on his terrible twos. “It’s OK, big guy,” I lift him out and bounce him gently. “See? All gone. It’s just you and me, kiddo.” I keep soothing him. Kit keeps crying. His face is screwed up and red, and he’s bawling for dear life. I try distracting him with a bottle, his favorite toy, anything I can to make him stop. But the boy just keeps screaming. I’m at my wit’s end when I see someone come towards me, jogging on the sandy asphalt. I cringe, hoping it’s not one of the perfect local moms to give me a disapproving glare, but as the figure gets closer, I realize it’s Finn.

Shirtless. In grey track pants – and nothing else.

My stomach flips over, but I don’t have time to steel myself – or quiet Kit - before he sees me. Finn slows, and comes to a stop alongside. “Good morning, sunshine.”

I’m tongue-tied. All I can remember is the feel of his hands on me. Not distant memories, safely in the past, but just a few hours ago. I stare at him, my head spinning. God, why does he look so good? When I exercise, I’m red-faced and panting, but Finn is barely out of breath. Sweat gleams off his muscular torso. I felt those muscles as he held me tightly against his chest, but without the thin layer of cotton draped over him, his body is something else.

Sweaty. Gleaming. Taut.

A drop of sweat drips down the valley of his abs.

“And who’s this?” Finn doesn’t seem to notice my brain-freeze. “That’s an awfully big noise for such a little guy.”

“Oh.” I pull it together. “Sorry, this is Kit. He had a run-in with a gull, and took it pretty bad.”

Finn chuckles, but then I see him look to the toddler in my arms and back at me. He furrows his brow. “How old is he?” he asks carefully.

“Almost two.” I keep bouncing Kit.

“And his dad?”

“Not in the picture anymore.”

“I guess I’ve been out of the loop a while.” Finn clears his throat, looking seriously uncomfortable. I could put him out of his misery and clear this up right now, but I have to admit, it’s pretty fun watching him squirm.

“A lot’s happened since you left.” I say pleasantly. Kit’s wailing goes up another level, and I turn back to him. “Shh, it’s OK.”

“Let me.” Before I can protest, Finn lifts Kit out of my arms, and expertly places him against his shoulder, bouncing gently on the spot. To my amazement, Kit calms.

“How did you…?”

“My tour manager had a newborn, so the whole family came on the road with us,” Finn explains. He keeps bouncing Kit. “It was ten guys and a little lady. We all learned how to change a diaper pretty fast.”

“They should make a movie,” I say faintly. I look at them – Finn, with a baby in his arms – and the loss hits me so hard, I can barely breathe.

The things I never told him. The things nobody knows.

Finn doesn’t notice my reaction. After another few moments bouncing, he sets Kit back in the stroller, now content and calm.

“He’s got your nose,” Finn remarks, studying Kit.

“It’s Lottie’s nose too,” I say, recovering. “She’s his mom, after all.”

He blinks. Realization dawns. “Oh. Oh, okay. Good. I mean, that he takes after her. It’s a good nose.” He clears his throat, awkward. Is it me, or does he look relieved?

I shouldn’t care. I don’t care.

“About last night,” I say, needing to make things clear. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

Finn’s gaze travels lazily up to meet mine. He arches an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

I flush. “We got carried away with… nostalgia. Old time’s sake. But it was wrong, and it won’t happen again.”