Like Gravity(62)

I rolled my eyes and turned to pull our salads out of the bag. As I grabbed silverware and plates, Lexi grabbed a bottle of ginger ale from the fridge, poured some into two tall glasses, and topped each off with a healthy dose of vodka and grenadine.

“Dirty Shirleys,” she said, smiling in anticipation as she stirred ice into the glasses and handed one to me.

“Cheers,” I said.

“To best friends and boyfriends,” Lexi toasted with a wink at me.

“And really great sex,” I added, giggling into my glass as Lexi snorted ginger ale out her nose.

“Details. Right. Now,” Lexi demanded, dabbing her face with a napkin.

I took a big swig of my drink – I was going to need it for this conversation.

***

Several hours later I’d consumed half a Greek salad and three and a half Dirty Shirleys, and Lexi was staring at me with her mouth gaping open. I’d just finished telling her everything about Finn and me, from the night I’d bailed on Landon, to painting my bedroom together, and, of course, the marathon sex we’d had afterwards. She’d been silent throughout the entire story, her only expression one of ever-building astonishment as she absorbed every word that left my mouth with rapt attention.

When I’d finished she didn’t speak for a long time, and as the minutes slowly ticked by I began to grow uneasy. Then, abruptly hopping down from her stool at the kitchen island, she wandered from the room without a word to me. I followed her because, well, what else was I supposed to do?

Lexi turned down the hallway to our bedrooms, bypassed her own door, and threw mine open without hesitation. I waited in the doorway, watching as she entered the room and spun in a slow circle, taking it all in. After Finn had left this afternoon I’d spent some time cleaning up the brushes and paint-covered drop cloths, pushing my furniture back into place and, lastly, hanging the canvas images on the wall opposite my bed. Offset against the sky blue paint, the photos looked beautiful.

Lexi made her way over to them, stopping to examine each one individually before lightly tracing her fingertips across the three smiling faces enlarged on canvas; her own, then mine, and finally, my mother’s.

The faces of my family.

Lexi turned away from the images and, when her eyes found mine, they were filled with unshed tears.

“Brookie,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

“Look up,” I said, nodding toward the ceiling.

She did as I told her; tilting her head back to examine it, her eyes widened in surprise, then wonder. As she took in the constellation of stars overhead, I saw the floodgates finally break open and watched as tears cascaded down her face. She didn’t move to wipe them away; she simply let them fall as she pivoted in a slow circle, staring up at the beauty Finn had created for me with a simple paintbrush.

I would have hugged her, but I knew from experience that Lexi would only cry harder if I tried to comfort her. Right now, she simply needed quiet time to process her thoughts – so that’s exactly what I gave her. I didn’t leave my spot in the doorway or try to speak to her, and within minutes her tears had dried up. She moved to sit on my bed, looking overwhelmed and slightly shell-shocked. I couldn’t really blame her – I’d felt that way for most of the day.

Turning from the room, I walked back to the kitchen, grabbed both of our drinks, and carried them back to my bedroom. Without a word, I handed Lexi her glass, and she gulped down a fortifying sip. She’d barely said a word, with the exception of my name, for the past three hours. That had to be some kind of record, considering Lexi typically had more trouble staying quiet than most hyper five-year-old children.

I should have known it wouldn’t last long.

Her blank face began to morph, an unmistakable shit-eating grin spreading across her face. “He did this,” she said, gesturing up at the ceiling.

I nodded.

“You let him stay the night,” she noted.

“Yeah,” I shrugged, taking a sip of my drink.

“You like him,” she continued, her smirk still in place.

“Yeah,” I shrugged again, taking an even bigger gulp of my Dirty Shirley.

“You like, really, really, like him,” she squealed, clapping her hands together and beginning to bounce up and down in her seat. I decided that not responding to her was my safest course of action at this point. Any more confessions and she might spontaneously combust.

“You want to go on dates with him, and let him hold your hand, and have little baby BrookFinns – FinnLyns? – with him!”

Well, that escalated quickly.

I stared at Lexi in semi-horror and fought to control the instant nausea that had gripped me as soon as those words left her mouth. I never wanted children. I couldn’t – wouldn’t – bring a kid into a world like this one.

Not ever.

But unless I wanted those three Dirty Shirleys I’d consumed to have an encore appearance, I needed to get control of myself. I shoved away my near anxiety attack and reminded myself that Lexi had been joking.

“FinnLyn? Did you seriously just combine our names?” I asked, forcing a laugh.

“I like BrookFinn better,” Lexi murmured contemplatively. Her eyes were glazed and distant as her mind conjured images of terrifying things – bridesmaid dresses and houses with white picket fences and squirming babies with dark hair and cobalt eyes. I shuddered and tried to ignore her, only just resisting the urge to cover my ears and yell la-la-la-la over and over again until she left me alone.