Annie Cresta loved the way the sunlight hit his hair in the early hours of the morning and the bright hours of the late afternoon. Finnick loved the way her fingers were so soft when entwined with his. She loved the softness of his lips on hers and he loved her warm embraces.
It was kind of like they were perfect for each other. They can't remember ever having fights. They could only remember times of happiness and smiling at each other and how much they love to smile. It's just so. . .they felt content with each other and they both love the way they smile and kiss each other when they first wake up at half-past-five to catch the sunrise every morning. She didn't really care that he wasn't exactly a prince charming, and he didn't really care that she didn't look like a Disney Princess: skinny as a rail and with the prettiest eyes that just light up and and a song that makes birds not only sing along, but help her into bed at night.
None of that mattered to him and none of that mattered to her.
She laced up her purple converse and tied back her hair at six o'clock while Finnick was making coffee on the other side of the room. She pulled a thin grey jacket over her camisole and grabbed a mug of coffee with one cream and no sugar. She liked it strong, but his had three creams and two sugar packets. She always teased him about how weak he took his coffee and he laughed and poked her playfully in the shoulder.
She took the last of her coffee in one large gulp and rinsed out the mug in the sink. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, already jogging out the door.
"Wait!" he exclaimed.
"What?" she responded, ducking back in the door.
"I'll miss you," he said with a smile and a ruffle of his hair.
"I'll miss you too," she said with an awkward little grin.
She started every day with a run around the town perimeter and he started every day with two weak cups of coffee and last night's episode of CSI: Miami.
On the way back, she always stopped at the doughnut shop to indulge in a steaming hot glazed doughnut and a glass of hot chocolate with whipped cream. Every day, whether it sweltering in summer or chillier than the freezer section at Walmart in the winter.
And he bought milk and ice cream at the local supermarket after CSI, being sure to pick the whole milk, which Annie liked and he didn't, and the mint chocolate chip instead of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, which he liked and she didn't.
They were so different but it wasn't like it bothered either of them. It wasn't of any real importance, because they loved each other: loved their little quirks and their imperfections most of all.
But when Annie found out she was pregnant, all hell broke loose.
She leaned against the bathroom door in her red pajama pants and a white camisole, staring at the two lines on the test. She tapped on it vigorously - it had to be broken. She wasn't pregnant. They had taken every precaution together and the morning sickness wasn't morning sickness at all - Finnick had had a cold last week and she'd just caught it a little bit late.
That's not what happened, but how she liked to think of it. For now, anyway.
His nose was buried in a book and her face was buried in her hands. She was breathing quickly, on the verge of a panic attack (which she hadn't had since she was seventeen). He was breathng slowly, totally engrossed in his book.
"Finnick," she said quietly, leaving the test on the bathroom counter.
"Annie," he said back calmly, hardly looking up from his page. He was almost done with the book anyway. She could wait. No she couldn't.
"I have good. . .bad. . .I have news," she said, kneeling on the bed in front of him.
"Okay. Let me finish the chapter."
"It's urgent."
He slid a bookmark in his book and patted the bed next to him. She crawled forward and laid a kiss on his lips.
"So I don't really know if this is good news or bad news, but. . ." She paused, gulped, and sat back on her heels. "Remember three weeks ago? It was a Friday and we'd both had too much to drink and-"
"Are you pregnant?" he interrupted, reaching for her hand.
She took it. ". . .yeah. What do I do next? Finnick, I'm freaking out right now. Should I get an abor-"
"Why? I'm happy for you!" he exclaimed, pulling her into an embrace.
"But we aren't ready to have a baby."
"We'll get ready. You've been talking about the what ifs for months.
"What if we can't get ready?" she countered, shooting him a look.
"Annie. . ." It was a warning of sorts. They never talked like this - they were the perfect couple and they never fought, never-ever.
"Finnick . . ." she retorted,rolling her eyes.
"Will you stop being such a-" He sighed and she scoffed.
"No, because I don't want to have a baby. Pregnancy sucks. And did I mention we're not ready?" she said, wiping away the tears she could feel forming.
When they laid down under the covers, they pulled onto opposite sides of the bed and fought over the blanket before curling up, closing their eyes, and going to sleep.
Finnick didn't want to fight with her, not now, not ever.
Annie felt a little bit like fighting but it just felt so wrong. They'd never fought before and it didn't feel right.
She woke up fifteen minutes before him, sighed, and threw the covers off of her. It wasn't going to be a good day.
But it was a Monday now and she had to go back to work, so she drank two cups of coffee, turned off the kitchen light, and got sat by the curb to wait for the bus to take her to the accounting firm. As pissed as she was with Finnick, she didn't want to leave him without a way of getting to work.
She rubbed her eyes and stretched before climbing on the bus with the other several people. She watched the suburbs fly past her eyes as the bus went towards the city, watched everything in this surreal state. Nothing felt very okay. But then again, when did it ever?
Okay, that wasn't really valid - with Finnick, it sort of always felt okay, but it didn't feel okay now and she didn't know when it would feel okay, if ever. That would change soon - she'd laugh with Margeaux and Daniel in the break room before talking to Abbey Damon about potential mortgage plans and Jeffrey Lombardy about paying off his student debt.
It would be okay. She would forget all about it and she wouldn't even tell her coworkers until it was totally unavoidable. But was she really that kind of person?
Yes, she decided. She was a conniving snake. Well, those weren't the words. She wasn't the kind of person who would spread that information around the second she got hold of it. That was all it meant.
So her day went on as it was supposed to and no one asked her about anything, which was understandable - she wasn't showing yet and she wasn't craving anything. She was particularly snippy but no one asked her - who wasn't pissed off every once in a while?
Her. She was never pissed because, up until now her life was perfect. Ugh. It was all so annoying.
. . .but did she really have to keep the baby? She didn't want to at all, but maybe she should. She wasn't against timely abortion, but she wasn't for it, either. It . . . just didn't seem right. But she was going to keep it despite how much she didn't want to, because it was the right thing to do.
She came home late, after going to the store and buying ice cream (it was on sale and she bought way too much of it) and a few boxes of ready-made sugar cookies shaped into hearts with blue frosting on them (also on sale). They were going to indulge tonight.
And, seeing as it was the middle of autumn, the sun had set and Finnick was lighting candles when she opened the door. Without even glancing at them, she said, "I'm sorry I snapped at you last night." She looked down at the array of glowing cylinders of wax. "Thank you."
"I bought ice cream and sugar cookies," he said. "They were on sale." He smiled sheepishly and she held out her bag of sugar cookies and ice cream.
He had bought chocolate chip cookie dough and she had bought mint chip. His sugar cookies had green frosting. She dropped the bag on the ground and wrapped her arms around him.
"Do we have to eat real dinner tonight?" she asked, looking at the five boxes of sugar cookies and the six containers of ice cream they'd lined up on the table.
"Not until this is gone," he replied with a laugh, handing her a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.
She slid the spoon into her mouth and laid a kiss on his lips.
"I love you," she said when they were sat down with bowls of ice cream and plates of cookies, the candles lighting up the room with a firey glow.
"I love you too. So, do you think we can raise this baby right?"
"Yes. And we'll name her Piper."
"Rachel."
"Piper!"
They both laughed and decided it didn't matter to either of them. Everything was okay.
x
And just as a side note, it took them six days to finish the cookies and five for the ice cream. It didn't seem to matter at the time, but they always remembered it because it was perhaps his fondest memory of her.
Her fondest memory of him was the way he ate the cookies: so elegant.
The baby wasn't Piper or Rachel; it was Ethan, because Annie just felt bad naming her healthy little boy Rachel. And they all lived happily ever after.
They like to say they never fought again, but alas, it wasn't true, for they fought over the flavor of ice cream every time they bought some.