Finally got another chapter finished of this fic. Very happy to be posting it. It's definitely a struggle to write it sometimes, but I hope that you're all enjoying it so far :)
Self beta'd so there will be a stupid mistake knocking about somewhere. Sorry in advance.
Enjoy!
Her dad can tell that something is wrong the second she steps in the door, tear tracks stained onto her cheeks. It's almost midnight, but she'd said she'd be out later, probably staying at a friend's house, and now she's here. "Hey," she greets them with the ghost of a smile.
"Hey princess," Leroy smiles from the recliner where he's sat, placing down his book on the arm. "How was the wedding?"
"It was beautiful," she says honestly, sitting down on the couch across from his so that she can take her heels off her aching feet. "I'm really happy for them." She nods slowly, eyes downcast.
"You're back earlier than we thought you would be."
She gives a small shrug, "I wasn't feeling so good so I called it a night. And Kurt and Blaine were drunk enough that they didn't notice me slip out."
"And Finn?" The question is asked simply enough, but it sets her heart racing and an awful feeling to plague over her body. Rachel bows her head, focusing on her hands that wring together rather than her dad.
What she says next isn't a complete lie."He wasn't really in a party mood either." And that's mostly her fault.
Rachel quickly changes the subject before her dad can question her further. "How was Oliver?" she asks. Considering how relaxed and calm he is, she guesses that they've had an easy evening. Oliver barely kicks up a fuss unless he's hungry or needs changing, and between both her dad and daddy, she knows he's had lots of attention for the night. If there's one thing Oliver loves, it's definitely attention.
"He fell asleep straight after bath time and we haven't heard a wink out of him all night."
"Yeah," she smiles, "he's like Finn in that aspect. Once he's down, you're not getting him up for anything."
He chuckles at that, "not like you then. You were a little diva right from the start."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Rachel jokes, but slowly rises to her feet and gives him a kiss on the cheek, "I'm going to check on Oliver and then go to bed." Though she's not exactly tired, all she wants now is to be by herself. She keeps thinking about the kiss, asking herself why she did it. Well, she knows why, but she regrets her actions now, remember the confusion in Finn's eyes, the hurt, or the way her heart clenched so tightly in a painful pang. She just wants to go back to that moment and stop herself from doing something so stupid.
With a sigh, she heads upstairs and to her old room, which is still the same as it had been in High School, only with the addition of Oliver's things. She spies him straight away, lay on his belly with his face pressed against the pillow. His small fingers twitch ever so slightly, to which her smile finally meets her eyes. She wants nothing more than to sweep him into her arms, snuggling him to her chest for hours, something that always brings her an immense amount of comfort. But she doesn't want to wake him, and so settles herself on her bed.
The stress from the situation is exhausting, and combined with the long night she feels herself slowly succumb to sleep. It happens to quickly that she doesn't even have the chance to get changed into some pajamas, falling asleep on top of the bed sheets. When her dad finds her like that on his own way to bed, he gently tucks her under the comforter, a soft smile lingering on his lips.
She can't believe she's doing this. Voluntarily, too. That's the most surprising part. Rachel isn't exactly sure when she'd decided that this needed to be done, but it'd happened and she'd ended up here. Hoping that Finn did decide to stay over at Kurt and Blaine's after all because she... she needs to straighten things out. She needs to step up to the plate and take the consequences for her actions, even if this particular consequence is making her feel sick to the stomach just considering. Now that she's actually here that feeling is amplified by a hundred. God, it's like morning sickness all over again.
"You can do this," she chants a couple of time, eyes closed, face focused, just like before a big performance. But this isn't a performance. This is real life and there is no chance to do it over, no understudy to rely on. Rachel knows that this is down to her.
She knocks a couple of times, tapping her foot with nervous energy as she waits for a reply. Her heart beats wildly in her chest when the response isn't immediate. Then she hears movement behind the door and it seems to become even more erratic.
And finally it opens, Maddy appearing in front of her. Immediately, Rachel tenses, putting on a brave face, while Maddy looks to her with a mixture of curiosity and distaste. "If you're looking for Finn, he isn't here so..." It barely takes a few seconds for her to start closing the door, but Rachel places a hand out to stop it, expression almost desperate.
"No, I'm actually here to talk to you," she clarifies, voice firm.
The woman's forehead creases further, yet she still steps back and opens the door wider for Rachel to step inside. She does so, hesitantly, and wondering if this is the right thing to do. But no, it is. She knows in her heart it is. When she turns, taking in Maddy's dishevelled appearance, she remembers her conversation with Finn last night, suddenly wondering the reason why the couple had been upset with each other.
But all curiosities are pushed aside when the woman in question speaks. "Well, what to you want?" No beating around the bush, pretending to be nice. Rachel's almost grateful for that. Maybe it'll make this easier.
"I needed to tell you something," she says, "I figured it's best to hear the story from me first than a convoluted version from anyone who wasn't actually there... I'm sure it'll get out at some point, and people tend to twist around stories so -"
Maddy suddenly stands more erect, arms folding over her chest defensively. "What is it?"
"I-I," she takes a few moments to muster up the words, before they spill out, "I kissed Finn last night."
She doesn't know what she expected; maybe something along the same lines as their little spat after her show in London, for Maddy to be angry, no livid. But the woman's face completely falls, heartbreak flashing across it for a few seconds. "What?" she asks in disbelief.
Rachel gulps, then repeats the sentence, just as gravely, while Maddy moves to sit down, teeth worrying her lower lip. There are unshed tears held in her eyes while she quietly asks, "did... did he kiss you back?"
"No," she doesn't miss a beat, "he pulled away." Her eyes look sadly upon Maddy, "it was a mistake and he knew that. I was... I shouldn't have done it and I'm sorry that I did." She says that honestly; after spending the whole night fretting over the moment time and time again, she's admitted that it was a moment of weakness, something that she should have controlled. Still, Finn didn't have to follow her outside. She'd been taking a break from him, to stop something like the kiss happening.
But no, he'd voluntarily joined her outside, knowing that she will nearly always open up to him. Considering that he knows how she feels about him, he makes it pretty damn hard to be his friend because of that sometimes.
"Why?" Maddy asks her, the iciness now returning to her voice, but it's not from genuine malice this time- it's to cover the way her voice almost cracks with sadness. "Why did you do it?"
"I don't... I don't know," she whispers.
"How can you still love him?" she continues as though Rachel hadn't even spoken, "after all he's done to you?" Rachel thinks it's an odd question – this is Finn's wife, wondering how someone can love her husband. But then the words sink in, suddenly the question deafeningly loud in her head. A lump crawls up her throat, blocking any response. Maddy is staring at her, incredulously so. And it's just all so strange. Because the woman ought to be enraged at her right now considering that confession. She'd kissed her husband, the one that everyone knows she hopelessly loves more than anyone.
There's no anger of her face.
Just... just sympathy.
And that stings more than anything, bringing a wave of fresh tears to Rachel's eyes. "I -" She shakes her head, unable to gain control of the hundreds of thoughts in her head. Drawing in a slow breath, she settles on one, "I suppose... I've loved him for so long. I don't – I don't know any other way." The admission hangs sadly in the air until she summons more words, "and it's Finn." She manages a smile there, "he's just so sweet and kind, and he's always made me feel... you know, special."
Maddy nods. For once in her life, Rachel feels in sync with the woman, if only for a brief few moments. Because they may be as different as night and day, but they both love Finn.
"But that doesn't make what I did right," she bows her head solemnly. "And I know that you hate me – I just couldn't leave without making sure that you knew the truth. I'd want to know if the situation were the other way around." Her quiet words are followed by silence, so thick and heavy that Rachel thinks she just might choke on it. Maddy doesn't seem to notice her internal struggle, or if she does she doesn't care. Instead, the brunette sits with slumped shoulders and an expression devoid of any real emotion.
It's then that she decides she's probably over welcomed her stay, and she rises slowly to her feet, feeling worse with each movement. Seeing this, Maddy glances up at her. "I should go..." Rachel says plainly. Maddy nods again, this time tears brimming in her eyes.
Rachel is all too happy to let herself out, but Maddy follows her to the door. Peering down ever so slightly, she swallows thickly. There's no forced small talk; the pair aren't even trying to be nice to each other. There's no point when they're both painfully aware of how the other feels, but Maddy manages to get out a small, almost grateful, "thank you for telling me," because closing the door on Rachel.
For a few minutes, she stands there in shock. The conversation hadn't exactly gone as she'd imagined, but instead it was... better, somehow. She'd thought there'd be screaming, lots of it, and yet faced with the quiet, defeated tones of Finn's wife has left her thoughtful, but emotionally drained for the day.
And the morning hasn't even finished yet.
"You what?"
At least Kurt gives her the reaction she's expecting, his eyes ablaze with shock, reeling over the revelation that she kissed Finn.
He then drops his head into his hands dramatically, sighing out her name. She doesn't bow her head with him, and instead watches the relay of emotions crossing his face. It saddens her to see disappointment there, but she'd been anticipating it. Hell, she's more disappointed in herself than anyone is.
"I wasn't thinking clearly," she states, "it was your wedding. You and Blaine were so happy and I was – I just felt..."
"Oh no, you are not blaming this on me and Blaine."
"I'm not." She shakes her head vehemently, "but you've got to understand that there was a reason. I didn't just wake up and think, 'oh, you know what I'll do today. I'll kiss Finn and make him hate me.'" She jumps to her feet, her voice angrily rising before everything crashes with a slump of her body.
Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Kurt watching her sadly. "He doesn't hate you," he tells her.
She shrugs, lower lip wobbling. She knows that. He doesn't hate her; he can't. Just like she's sure she could never hate him. But there's nothing stopping either one from hating the situation that they're in, all the back and forth with their feelings. Her stupid feelings which seem so intent on keeping Finn that they're happy to let everything else around her fall apart.
Rachel sighs, "I feel so humiliated." He tilts his head, waiting for her to continue. "I can't even be around Finn without wanting to act on my feelings, and I know I shouldn't. He has a wife and we're... our relationship is difficult sometimes, but I can't help it. The rational part of my brain just disappears for a few seconds – that's all it takes for me to do something stupid."
As she'd spoke, Kurt'd gently pulled her in for a soft hug, leaning his chin on her forehead. She cries softly into his shoulder, even more so when he tells her that it'll all work itself out.
"Maybe you should take a break from him, Rachel."
She gives a small laugh, "we already live on separate continents, what more can I do?"
"No," he corrects her, voice lacking any humor. Instead, his blue eyes are soft and sympathetic toward her, "I mean, you guys talk so much, and maybe... maybe it'd be best if you – didn't? You know, cut out the temptations. Obviously you have to talk because you have Oliver together, but maybe it'd be wise to give yourself more space from your friendship. Because sweetie, it's not worth it if it makes you feel like this." He points to her, the obvious tear tracks on her cheeks, her crestfallen expression.
A ragged sigh escapes her lips, before she absently chews on her lower lip. Her mind is confused with thoughts, of all the possible options that she can take, but she fears that ultimately they'll all lead to the same conclusion. Maybe Kurt's right, maybe the best thing to do is stop hopelessly chasing after Finn. She needs to stop deluding herself that it's going to end in anything but heartbreak for herself.
Though it's a hard feat to admit, she swallows it slowly.
As much as she loves Finn, as she loves being his friend, there's nothing that'll make seeing him with Maddy worth it. Perhaps it is time she called quits on this friendship. For the benefit of everyone involved.
She opens the door for him, barely managing to smile at Oliver before Finn is stepping into her dad's house with the baby in his arms. "Stroller's in the car," he mumbles on the way past her, in much the same way that they'd spoken this morning. Rushes, reluctant. But each know that the kiss isn't just going to be forgotten, and Rachel prepares herself with a deep sigh for what could possibly be one of the worst conversations in her life.
Her dads are out – for that she's incredibly thankful – and so Finn quietly sits himself on the couch with Oliver still cradled against him. "Finn, we need to talk," she quickly gets out, spinning to look at him with an expression bordering on frantic.
Clearly fearing the worst, his eyes widen. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
She shakes her head. She's not okay at all. And she hasn't been for days. Rachel sits on the armchair across from him, placing her hands neatly on her lap as she stares toward Finn. It's hard to muster the courage to say exactly what she needs to. "Finn." As she says his name this time, her voice cracks with all the pressure. When he goes to comfort her, in spite of the previous awkwardness seconds ago, she shrugs off his arm with tears in her eyes. He's confused then, more so than ever.
"I've been thinking," she starts, "a lot. My head has sort of been a mess since the wedding, about what we did." She finally looks into his eyes, wishing that she hadn't. "I don't want to ever feel like that again," Rachel states, her heart clenching painfully as she recalls the hurt and embarrassment in that moment.
"Rachel, look -"
"Please. Just... let me talk." Her words are soft yet demanding. Finn leans back, his hands twitching, but he doesn't speak over her. Still, his eyes hold a wariness inside of them that she doesn't like. "This is so hard," she admits, eyes scrunching closed. "Everything is hard. No matter what I do to make it easier, it just becomes more of a struggle – and I'm sick of this. I'm just tired, Finn." He opens his mouth but then thinks better of it, instead allowing her to speak. She feels tears threatening to fall as the words reluctantly come from her lips, those dreaded words, "I don't think that I can do this any more."
Now more confused than ever, he only stares at her. "What – what do you mean?"
Lower lip trembling, she says, "this... whole thing is just too hard. Being your friend, Finn; having to watch you be happy with someone else – all of that. It hurts." Her voice is laced with upset, "and I don't want to do this, not one bit, but I just don't know what else I can do."
"So what?" he asks quietly, in disbelief, "you just want us to stop seeing each other, stop talking?"
"We have a son; we both know that we can't do that; I want nothing to change for Oliver." She feels her heart clench at the thought of their relationship affecting their son in any negative way. She wants everything to seem as normal for her baby. "But us," she swallows thickly, "I can't keep doing this."
He reaches out a hand to her, once again the gesture being ignored by Rachel. "Please, don't do this," he openly begs, eyes watery. "Rachel," he whispers out her name.
"I kissed you," she says, "and who knows how many times that will happen, how many mistakes we'll make."
"We won't -"
"Stop," she cuts him short, eyes ablaze as she glares in his direction. He knows, of course he does, that something's always bound to happen. Because sometimes she feels like their each other's weaknesses, and being together is only going to cause trouble. The wedding surely proved that theory. "Finn, we will. We always will." She lets the first of many tears fall, hastily brushing it away with the back of her hand, "and we never learn from our mistakes Finn. But now we have to. We can't keep doing this." Even more quietly, she says, "I can't keep doing this."
The pain radiating off of him is almost too much, but she forces herself not to care. "Rach, please."
"There's no point in trying Finn. I've made up my mind."
"You're my best friend," he tries again, voice anguished.
She watches him sadly; her eyes are filled with regret. "What kind of friendship is this? Best friends aren't supposed to hurt each other like this, it's not supposed to be this hard." He reaches out for her again, and this time she lets him, her arms wrapping tightly around his body as though she never wants to let go. Finn does the same, his body almost shaking.
"I'm so sorry."
Rachel feels her breath catch in her throat, "I am, too. We both let things get so messy..."
After a long, hard silence, he speaks. "I don't want it to be like this – I care about you."
It takes every ounce of strength she has to pull herself from his grasp, even as the words sink into her heart. "If you care about me Finn, then please, just let this happen." Seeing tears in his eyes breaks any resolve she though she had, Rachel holding back a sob, "but you're still Oliver's dad. And... nothing is going to change there. You can still skype him, message me about him, send things for him. I don't want your and him to be affected by this."
He opens his mouth to speak, and only ends up dropping his face into his awaiting hand, trying to hold back his own cries. The reality must be setting in, the painful sounds that come from him are all too much to bear for Rachel. After giving the news, she already feels emotionally drained, tired. And she's sure that Finn is sharing those symptoms. Even as she watches him clearly upset over the outcome, she has to convince herself that it's the best option if she wants to be happy.
She giggles at the loud chuckles that Oliver makes when she tickles his chubby little stomach. His large, sparkling eyes stare up at her with nothing other than love and adoration, and the sight of that makes her heart swell. Lifting him in her arms easily, she litters his face with kisses before snuggling him against her. The way his arms cling onto her is another source of her bright smile.
Keeping him to her hip, she stares around at the pile of clothes still on her bed, a mixture of hers and Oliver's. She'd taken a break mid packing to play with her baby boy, but her flight is early tomorrow and the sooner she gets this done, the better. But Oliver manages to be the perfect distraction, with his big toothy grin and cute little dimples. After she places him on the bed, he whines and whimpers, reaching out for her. "No, sweetie. I need to get this done," she insists, fingers combing through his hair and then hands him one of his toys.
His protests only grow in noise, his babble turning to frustrated noises when he doesn't find himself in her arms.
Attempts to keep him quiet with his pacifier are useless, because he only throws it across the room every time it's placed in his mouth. After the fifth time, Rachel gives up and tries to ignore his relentless whining. It's hard, really hard. She wants nothing more than to sweep him into her arms, but the baby books are persistent in stating that he should be learning more dependence by now. She gives him some of his toys to keep him entertained, but it seems he only wants her at that point.
Rachel huffs around the room, cringing every time his cries grow to an ear piercing volume. It's at that point that she gives up, sitting on the bed and pulling him into her lap. Kisses are scattered across his head, his small weight a comfort in her arms. Oliver's head droops slightly, so that he's leaning against her chest, and it's then that he stares up at her with his big, brown eyes, pleadingly so. His fingers curl around her shirt, where she quickly understands. "Oh, so that's what you wanted," she smiles, manoeuvring them both so he can nurse. He sucks raptly, causing Rachel to wince at first. "You know what, I really can't wait 'til I'm not your personal milk carrier."
Her words fly straight over his head as he happily eats, suckling until his eyes begin to droop over and his body stills. She waits a few more minutes to ensure he's asleep, before placing him carefully in his crib. He rolls onto his side, body curling in on itself, while Rachel smiles at him lovingly.
But it's much easier to concentrate now, and her packing goes by in a flash. She's almost finished when her dad walks in, a tepid smile to his lips. "Hey sweetheart," he starts, only for Rachel to place a finger to her lips, pointing to the sleeping form of her son in the crib. He nods, his voice adopting a quieter tone, "you all packed?"
"Almost. There's just a few of Oliver's things to put away and then I'm done."
"Okay," he hums, "when you're finished, dad and I want to take you out for dinner. We won't get to treat you for a while."
Nodding her head sadly, she turns her attention away from him and quickly finishes with her tasks. All the onsies are folded neatly and stacked into the suitcase, leaving Rachel's full attention for her dad. When she turns, she finds him smiling down at the crib, the same look in her eyes that she's sure she gets when looking at Oliver. Shuffling over to join him, she slides her arm around his waist and leans into her father's side, closing her eyes in contentment. Despite all the confusion going on in other aspects of her life, she can always count on her dads to make her feel happy again.
"He really is the cutest little thing since you were a baby."
An eye peaks open at those words, her face cracking with a smile. "Well everyone says he looks like me so..."
"That he does. I can't believe how much he keeps growing though. He's going to be taller than you ones of these days." She giggles, nudging his side slightly. Her dad then chuckles, only for them to trail off, his throat clearing. She gives him her full attention. "There is something that we wanted to talk to you about though, your father and I."
"Oh," she tugs away, regarding him closely. The worry lines in his forehead seem deeper than ever, and her stomach begins to turn when she feels this conversation isn't exactly going to be all rainbows and smiles. "What about?" she takes a couple of steps backwards, sinking onto the plush mattress of the bed, while her dad joins her. Rachel's curiosity quickly turns to worry.
"It's about the situation with you, Finn and Oliver." She opens her mouth to speak, but no words follow. Her dad takes that as an opportunity to continue. "I know we don't know the full story of what's going on between you and Finn," he says honestly, "and I want to respect your privacy in the whole thing. But I ran into your friend Kurt the other day, and he said that you and Finn aren't talking... is that true?"
She stalls for as long as she can, before nodding. "Well, not so much not talking. We are talking to each other, but only really about Oliver."
"Rachaela," he gives her a one sided hug, one that she relishes in. "You and Finn used to be joined at the hip. What could possibly be that bad that it's come to this?" Rachel stares into his eyes, but she can hardly bring herself to spill out the entire story to her dad, mostly in fear of having to see how badly she's handled everything.
Instead, she steadies her breath and speaks with as much control as she can muster. "It just isn't working out. There are too many factors involved, too many feelings." She sniffles then, catching sight of her dad's expression in her peripherals. Realization hits his gaze, which suddenly turns into the sympathetic one that she's grown to hate. Wanting to be rid of it altogether, she soldiers on, "but we're not going to let that affect Oliver, dad. I promise."
"Are you sure, sweetheart?" he looks sceptical. "You're doing a wonderful job of raising him, but I'm worried about the effect it'll have on my grandson if his parents can't even hold an amicable relationship."
"It's not that we can't have that," she states, closing her eyes sadly. Her and Finn can be civil, more than civil. And she knows that they'll both go to the moon and back when it involves their son. It's just when Oliver isn't involved that things start to become blurred, emotions taking over. "Neither of us would ever do anything to put him in an awkward position. He's our baby." These words are said more fondly, her eyes drifting over to the crib where the infant sleeps soundly, unaware of his mother's inner turmoil.
Hiram squeezes her shoulder delicately. "I know sweetheart. It's just that I've known for this thing to happen to people, and sometimes it can end up pretty messy. What with people fighting for custody and all that. I'd just hate for it to boil down to that with you and Finn. You've always been so fond of him."
She tugs back, almost offended that he's suggest that. Though their relationship may not be perfect, she knows that neither would try to jeopardize their relationship with Oliver. "Papa, you've got to know that we'd never let it get to that. He's not mine, and he's not Finn's. He's ours. We both played a part in his creation, so it's only fair that we both get to do the same in his upbringing." She sighs; doesn't everyone know that she already feels guilty enough for Oliver and Finn living so far apart? That she gets to see her son every day while Finn is limited to her trips back to the states or his visits to her? "And we're not going to let our... business interfere with being parents, okay?"
Her dad nods, satisfied with the answer. Just before he stands, he gives her small body another squeeze and then heads for the door, "dinner at seven, then?"
"Sounds great," she smiles, "and then an early night, I think." Rachel stands herself, sucking in a long breath, "I think I'm just ready to go home."
"Home?" he repeats, surprise in his voice.
It's her turn to nod now, "yes. Home."
Finn carries Oliver through the airport while she rifles through her bag to find their boarding passes. As she does so, she can hear him trying to hold down a conversation with their seven month old. When she looks over her shoulder, a sad smile ghosts her lips as she sees how happy Finn is, especially considering that he won't see Oliver in person for weeks now.
He lifts Oliver in the air, swinging him back and forth. The quick motions causes the baby to laugh heartily, cheeks bright pink. Despite herself, she smiles softly.
This continues for a few more more minutes before he turns, suddenly stilling. The smile slips slowly from his lips, as though a child caught misbehaving, but she only shakes her head lightly at him. She loves seeing him all paternal; the way his face lights up in Oliver's presence. It's the same look that she gets when she sees him, and she can only imagine that the feelings are all too similar.
"We should get going," she announces, causing the mood to plummet. Finn holds his son that little bit tighter, staring down at the infant. She sighs, an apologetic tone to the action, but in the end it doesn't matter. The outcome will still be the same. Leaning down, Finn tenderly kisses Oliver's head, strong arms almost engulfing the tiny tot. "I'm going to miss you so much," he adds quietly, so Rachel can only just about hear. She wants nothing more than to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, but she keeps her distance and watches the scene unfold. "I love you, buddy. More than anything." With one final kiss, he reluctantly steps closer to Rachel, handing Oliver over. And she pretends that it doesn't hurt when he immediately reaches out for Finn again.
But instead she gives a forced chuckle. "Not right now, baby. Daddy's gotta go."
Finn hovers a little uselessly for a few seconds, eyes raking over her. Oliver appears to deflate, as though he knows exactly what's going to happen right about now. She slowly kisses his forehead, reaching down to strap him into his stroller, despite his wriggling to be free. Again those babbles erupt from his mouth, and she gives a soft smile his way, until suddenly it's not all just baby talk anymore. "Dada!" he cries out, arms grasping for Finn. A sharp gasp escapes her, her head snapping up in Finn's direction where he stares back in total surprise.
"What did you just say?" she questions, sinking to her haunches so that she's face to face with him. The lingering shadow to her side tells her than Finn is doing the same. "Did you say dada?"
"Dada, dada!" he repeats with some encouraging, while Rachel stares at her son in amazement. It's crazy to think that he only came into this world a tiny, totally dependable little baby, and now here he is, uttering his first words. But the look of wonder soon slips for his face as he continues to reach for Finn, growing more upset with each passing second.
Her heart breaks to see him so desperately trying to cling to Finn, not wanting him to go. And she all too well knows that feeling. But she has to press on, pursing her lips together tightly before standing tall once more. Finn is still crowing over his son's achievement. It takes all her strength not to let the tears she feels prickling at the corners of her eyes fall. She's happy, of course she is. But sadness looms over her, too. Watching Finn like this is all so bittersweet, and she wishes more than anything that he could be like this all the time, that he could see he son whenever he wanted. But it just doesn't work that way right now.
She waits longer now, even with the nagging that she needs to go and catch her plane. That her and Oliver do. As much as she'd love to give him longer time with Finn, they have to go home and get back to their life in England. It's with a heavy heart that she clears her through to speak, and Finn knows exactly what she's going to say before she even says it. The disappointment floods his features, but he doesn't argue. "Daddy will see you soon, okay bud?" His frown is permanently stuck to his face, only deepening when Oliver cries for him again. Watching him try to ignore it is hard, so she can't even imagine how he feels at that moment.
"Message me to make sure that you land safely," he tells her gently, eyes boring into her. She winces while Oliver continues to cry, but agrees to do so. There's a moment of pause, in which they'd usually hug their goodbye, but not today.
"Bye Finn."
In an equally defeated tone, he says, "see you, Rach."
With that, she collects her things and Oliver, who has resorted to whimpering in his stroller until she gives him his pacifier to calm down. Walking away from Finn, she forces herself not to look back at him.
"You feeling any better, chuck?" Katie asks her as she pushes another hot chocolate in front of Rachel, this time topped with whipped cream and marshmallows. The comfort drink may smell delicious, but she can't even bring herself to take a sip of it.
"I don't really know how I feel," she says, "I want to call this whole thing off and just be friends with Finn again, but I – if I do that it's just going to be the same thing over and over, isn't it?"
Katie nods, "I'm afraid so."
She looks sadly from her friend to the TV, the volume on low in the background. It offers her momentary distraction, but she knows that there's still more to this conversation to go. "Do you think I did the right thing?"
There's a long pause, Katie sighing as she considers the question. "I don't blame you for what you did, if that's what you mean."
"So what, you wouldn't have decided to end the friendship?" she tilts her head to the side curiously.
"Actually, that would've been finished with months ago. By now I would've given Finn a piece of my mind. You know, he's happy to get pissed off at you for kissing him, but he miraculously forgets that he was the one that followed you out there." She shakes her head in annoyance, "and he wasn't all that concerned about Maddy when he got you pregnant."
"Katie..." she says quietly, "they weren't together then."
"Please, they'd been apart for like, a couple of days. You don't just go around knocking up your friends when you're fresh out of a break up." She slams her mug to the side table a little too hard, taking in a sharp breath, "I know that you love him, Rachel, but I can't help thinking that he's put you through a lot of crap."
She shifts, bringing her legs closer into her body, an arm wrapping around the other. "That's just the thing..." Her voice is so quite, so unsure, that it catches Katie's attention immediately, and the woman's sour expression melts away. "I just.. I don't know how I feel about Finn anymore." She gives a defeated sigh, "after everything that's happened between us – things are different now, and sometimes I wonder... is it even worth it? I try and I try, but it never works out. I don't think it ever will." She frowns deeply, "I don't think Finn and I can ever be just friends again. You know, we've got all this water under the bridge, all these emotions. We've got a baby together – I guess... we're either going to be together, or we're not."
"He's married, Rachel..." she says gently, "you -"
"You don't need to remind me that. Finn does a good enough job when he's playing perfect families with Maddy." She does take a small sip of her drink now, letting the warm cocoa melt in her mouth, "so that's why I'm doing this. I'm done tormenting myself with something that I'm never going to have. Time for me to focus on me."
"I'll drink to that," Katie grins, clinking their mugs together in a quiet toast, "but for the record, I think it's good that you've made a choice on this whole thing. It sucked to see you so miserable about Finn all the time."
Rachel bows her head, "was I really that bad?"
"Come on, don't be like that. We've all been there – there's always that one guy..." Gazing to her friend intently, her eyes widen curiously. "What? George never told you about Jerry?" She shakes her head no. "Well long story short, I fell head over heels for him while in my second year of college, and you know – we were a pair of stupid seventeen year olds... we thought we'd be together for eternity."
Rachel raises her brow, unable to believe Katie in that situation. She always seems as the girl who plays hard to get, making the guys work, but hearing about her having a school girl romance is so strange. "Then what happened?" she asks.
"We did all this crazy stuff – I actually got a tattoo with his name on. I stole my cousin's ID and got away with it, although we look nothing alike. I guess that the actual tattoo studio wasn't exactly professional either, but yeah, I got his name, and he chickened out about five minutes before he was supposed to get mine."
"Oh my god," she places a hand over her mouth, "you did?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," she defends herself, "but that wasn't the craziest thing. We actually went on a trip to Blackpool without telling either of our parents. We just disappeared for a couple of days and got so caught up in each other..." Katie gives a wistful sigh, "I really did love him."
"...but?"
"He went to university, and the distance was hard, but the worst thing about it was that he started acting like he was better than everyone else, chewing people out for no reason. It got to the point where a conversation was hard work, so I ended it." She scrunches up her nose, "he changed, and I guess I did too."
Nodding sadly, she questions, "was it hard?"
"Yeah," she nods, voice very unlike her – it's sombre, thoughtful, "but I did the right thing, even if it tore me apart then. I still loved him, despite everything."
She reaches out her hand softly, giving Katie's arm a tender squeeze when she stares off into space with her lips pursed together in though. Her expression is one of empathy, because her situation may be altered here and there, but its spine is just the same. Katie smiles in return. "I'm here for you Rachel, no matter what you choose you do. You know that I love you and Oliver."
The smile comes from the deepest past of her heart, eyes glistening with unshed tears, "thanks Katie, that means a lot."
"Good." She bounces back, "now finish your drink before any of the cream falls onto my couch. It's already melting."
Rachel only laughs in response.
"Oh my god, you guys are so tanned!" she squeals when she sees them, both a golden brown color – even Kurt. "Did you spend the whole time in the sun?"
Blaine grins, "well I naturally tan, but this one," he points to Kurt, "got pretty badly burned on the first day and it somehow turned into this tan." She giggles toward Kurt's sour expression, unable to keep her eyes off him. It's so strange seeing him as anything other than his usual pale tone, and to be quite honest it's rather unsettling.
"They're going to laugh at me at work, I know it," Kurt laments to himself rather than anyone else. The chuckles from Blaine and Rachel only further aid his embarrassment.
"Did you have fun? I know I'd love to spend a week in Venice."
"Blaine was totally at home," he says, "he was speaking to everyone in Italian. It was very sexy." While Blaine blushes, Kurt only smirks. She watches as Kurt leans his head against that of his husband, a content smile growing on his lips as Blaine starts sharing other parts of their honeymoon. While she's excited for them, she can't ignore that tinge of jealous over how sweet and easy their relationship is.
The way that they look at each other with pure love always leaves her heart pounding, wishing that someone would look at her that way.
Rachel finishes the last of the dishes, placing them on a rack to dry while she almost trips over some of the toys that Oliver must've thrown all the way from his high chair. Which is on the other side of the room; that kid has a good arm. "Oliver," she sighs, picking up the plastic tea pot and placing it back on the tray. Before he can get his hands on it, however, she lifts him easily from the seat, stepping over the baby gate into the living room. There, she places him to the fluffy rug on the floor.
It takes him all of two seconds to become occupied with the toys from one of the boxes in the cubby, bashing together plastic on plastic. Rachel winces at the noise, eyes lifting from the book that she'd started to read to Oliver, who grins her way and pushes his diapered butt in the air as he gets to his hands and knees. But rather than crawl normally, he uses the coffee table to pull himself onto his chubby legs, which wobble under the weight.
Watching in amazement, she practically throws the book to the side and sinks to her knees on the floor. "Come here, baby," she encourages. "Come to momma."
He looks to her in confusion, then back down to his legs. Standing had clearly just been a fluke, and now he has no idea what to do with his limbs. Fingers still clinging to the wood of the table, he cries out for her. "You can do it," Rachel says as he continues to stare at her expectantly.
She laughs then, closing the small gap between them and reaching out her hands for him to take. Her fingers curl around his tiny ones, holding his entire weight as he takes a shaky step forward with her help. She's doing most of the work, but he still grins as he moves forward a couple of steps before tugging his hands away from Rachel so that he can do so himself. Instantly, he starts to drop to the floor, his legs still not strong enough to support. Rachel manages to catch him just in time, hugging him to her chest. Littering his face until he can't stop giggles, she chuckles along with him.
"You'll get it one day, baby," she assures him, only to have a huge smile sent her way. She kisses his dimples and then sets him carefully in her lap so that they're facing each other.
A soft sigh follows then, "You've already said your first word. I can't wait 'til you're talking more. And soon you'll be walking." Gently cupping his chin, she whispers, "you need to stop growing up so fast Oliver."
He babbles in response, eyes bright as he reaches up to touch her face. She grins. Her eyes then brighten as she takes his hand in hers, then says, "I love you." With her index finger, she gently taps his nose. "And you love..." She guides his hand to tap her own nose, eyes scrunching shut, "me."
His eyes drift away from her then, distracted by the bright colors of his truck. It has buttons spread around, providing a number of different sounds, all of which are just irritating to Rachel, but he loves playing with it. When he grabs it, he instantly pressed the green button, giving the roar of an engine for him to laugh at.
"Okay, I'm going to get back to my book now," she announces, seeing as he's happily occupied. But as soon as she makes to move, he protests with a loud burst of noise. "Fine, fine. I'll stay here," she feels a smile grow on her lips. She's not ignored for too long, as he starts passing her toys of all shapes and sizes. But Rachel happily accepts them; it's a good hour before she tears herself away from him.
"My mom sent some more clothes for him," Finn says quietly as they talk over Skype.
"Oh, I'll have to thank her," she nods, "he's growing like a week at the minute. I've thrown out half of his things already." She glances down to Oliver, who'd zonked out only five minutes ago and has his cheek pressed flatly against her chest.
He perks up slightly. "You have? Just, um, if you need to buy anything else, just tell me and I'll give you some money towards it. The kid's gonna grow pretty big, and that's probably my fault." He gives the first smile of the whole conversation, although it's a rather sheepish affair.
"I will." A pause. "Thank you, Finn."
Finn sighs then, "you don't need to thank me for something that I should be doing anyway." She frowns right along with him, head bowing for a moment. When she looks back up at him, she sees that familiar sadness, but brushes it away. She'd gone into this knowing that it was never going to be easy, and a pair of puppy dog eyes isn't going to break her front, not today.
"I know, but just – I wanted to thank you." Too many dads are non existent in their children's lives, and while her situation is less than ideal, she's grateful that Finn would do anything to spend time with Oliver, while he's always willing to pay his half for new essentials.
His smile is grim, but so is hers.
Rachel wishes for nothing more than the ability to go back in time, to prevent them from ever becoming this.
Feeling tipsy from the few mimosas she's had, Rachel dances loosely in the middle of the bar, giggling as Katie does the same right next to her. The loud music pulses in time with her heartbeat, while the lights leave most of the room a blur. But for once she feels happy, throwing her hair back and forth to the wordless music. When the heat catches up with her, and her feet ache from the stilettos, she grabs Katie's hand and pulls her to one of the tables in the far corner.
Once they've caught their breath back, they look to each other. Cheeks pink, eyes glossy, the two can't keep the smiles from their faces. "So, are you having fun?" Katie asks with a killer grin. Her words are slightly slurred and slow.
Unable to stop smiling, Rachel nods, "I love it here. We should come all the time."
Her friend only laughs as Rachel wraps an arm around her, leaning her head back against Katie's neck. "I don't think you're cut out for this life, Rach. How come I never knew you were such a lightweight?"
She grumbles, yanking herself out of Katie's arms. "I am not." Rational, not inhibited Rachel knows the she is the definition of a lightweight, but with the alcohol coursing through her veins she's stubbornly determined to deny it.
"Hey, I'm not complaining. I'm saving money on drinks here," she chuckles.
Just as Rachel opens her mouth to speak, one of the bartenders step up to their table, a pink fruity looking drink in his hand. He smiles, placing it before Rachel and then nods his head a few tables down, "from the gentleman over there." She says her thanks and then curiously peeks past the bartender to the guy in question. When he notes her looking, he raises his own glass in a silent toast before taking a slow sip, while his friends watch the interaction.
"Ugh, creep," Katie mumbles. "Hey, what are you doing?" she demands of Rachel as she picks up the drink, a nod of acknowledgement sent to her admirer.
"What?" she glares as her arm is tugged down, "it's just a drink." If she's being completely honest with her, the small gesture has confidence soaring inside her, more so than the alcohol itself. She's never been the girl to be noticed, and for once she finally is. And nobody is going to ruin this moment for her. With a smirk, she finishes the drink in a couple of gulps, feeling it burn down her throat.
"It's not just a drink. What if he comes over here?"
"Then I'll thank him for it and that'll be it. I'm not planning on going home with him, Kate." She rolls her eyes. Rachel can't help but feel new sort of liberation that has her blood on fire with excitement, the feeling like when she's performing to a packed out theatre. She's invincible, strong and empowered, and she wants to hold onto that sensation for as long as she can.
With renewed vigor, she starts to drag Katie back onto the dance floor. She's determined for this night to go on.
"So do you miss him?"
She gives Blaine a look through the screen, face scrunched up, "do I miss who?"
He pauses, searching her expression for any tells. "You know who," he states, "don't play dumb with me, Rachel. Have you even had a real conversation with Finn lately?"
"Of course I've had a real conversation with him," she replies haughtily, "but it was centered around Oliver, which isn't a bad thing."
"And you didn't ask about each other?"
"Why would we?" she frowns, "I meant what I said to him, Blaine. I'm done with all the heartache that comes with being Finn's friend – it's too hard, and I can't do it anymore." She gives him a look that leaves no room for argument, not that she'd listen to him anyway. It's about time that she trusts her own judgement, rather than rely on everyone else, and if there's one thing that she's sure of, it's that if her and Finn had kept going the way they were, things would've been much worse than just a few strained conversations every couple of days.
But Blaine sighs then, watching her sadly. "Is this whole thing because you kissed Finn at our wedding?"
She shoots up into an erect posture, eyes widening. "He told you? He told you!" Shame burns her cheeks, Rachel wishing that she could erase the moment from her mind forever.
"He was asking me for advice, Rach," he explains, clearly not wanting to drop Finn in trouble. Well, it's too late for that. Rachel feels a low growl rip from her lips, something that Blaine doesn't hear, but he can see the anger rising in her expression. "Nobody else knows. Well, except Kurt, but you told him."
"How do you know that no one else knows? If he's telling you, why don't we just tell the whole world? Why don't we just announce how desperate and stupid I was?!" Her voice raises so high that she's sure only the canines of the neighborhood can hear her. Blaine winces, throwing her an apologetic look.
"Rachel - "
"I can't believe him," she huffs in annoyance, the feeling of upset quickly encasing her heart tightly. The last thing she wanted was for other people to know about the kiss, especially if that story is coming from Finn and not her. Blaine probably doesn't know that she'd tried to stop herself by leaving the room, only for Finn to follow. Or that she regrets it more than anything and that right now she feels like a complete idiot for ever thinking it would be a good idea to kiss him. Shoulders slumped, the news slowly sinks in, with Blaine witness as her expression breaks in two.
He desperately tries to backpedal, "he didn't even want to tell me, Rach. I was the one who pulled it out of him."
Rachel struggles to find it in herself to believe his words, unable to shake off the paranoia that more people know about that stupid kiss. "I'm so embarrassed," she admits, "I can't even look at Finn without remembering it." But it wasn't only my fault, she tells herself. And for once, Rachel believes herself.
"Just forget I mentioned it."
"You probably think that - "
"Rachel," he says in a quiet, calming voice that brings her breathing down to a normal rate, though doesn't quite manage to take control of her thudding heart, "I believe whatever you tell me. If it was a slip up, then it was a slip up, okay? I don't think that you're trying to steal Finn from Maddy, or that you're doing this just to mess with his head. Okay?"
It takes him repeating the word one more time before she nods in agreement, relieved that he hasn't just jumped to assumptions. The last thing she's want to do is interfere with Finn's marriage; he's made it pretty damn clear that he cares more about that than anything else.
"Thank you," she says with the smallest of smiles. Opening her mouth to continue, she's cut short as Kurt enters the room, clad in his jacket and scarf.
"You won't believe what Sandra tried making me - oh hi Rachel."
Rachel gives a small wave, "you look annoyed."
"I am annoyed," he grumbles, "of people who work in fashion though don't know what the hell they are doing. Speaking of fashion, my nephew better be in acceptable attire today. Especially if you plan to take him out in public."
Her immediate response is a roll of the eyes, "Kurt, he's a baby, he doesn't care what he looks like"
Kurt tusks, "well I do."
She gives him a look, half annoyed and half amused, "don't you trust my judgement, Kurt?"
"No," he says flatly, "you still have that reindeer sweater, I know you do." Her cheeks blush slightly under being caught, but she still gives an insistent shake of the head. She has a feeling that, like her, Oliver may never escape Kurt's eye of scrutiny when it comes to fashion. Though she doesn't understand his distaste of the cute little onsies she buys, because everyone else seems to love them, and she's totally not biased, but Oliver is so adorable that nobody will be focusing on what he's wearing anyway.
"Stop, stop, stop! I've seen enough!" Hugh throws his hands up in frustration, stomping forward onto the stage, "where's the fire? The passion?" He groans when Rachel stands there silently with her co star Jake. "You two are kissing like you're related – not like you've finally just been reunited. I want you to hold each other like you're scared to let go, like it's the last few seconds you'll ever share, like -"
She listens intently as he goes on, becoming more vivid with his description. Rachel wants to tell him that they were doing all those things, but if it didn't transcend to him, then it likely wouldn't with the audience. She sighs then, wishing she knew exactly how to improve her performance.
Beside her, Jake looks bored of the ongoing speech, his eyes rolling here and there when Hugh has his back turned to them, still emphatically explaining how he wants the scene to go. It's only their second day on this scene, the penultimate to the play, yet in her opinion the real climax, where the young heroine is finally reunited with her lover after all the trials and tribulations which the story has brought. Usually, as with any actor, she draws upon life experiences to aid her performance, but at the minute nothing seems to be aiding the passionate scene – only hindering it.
When it comes to snagging the hero at the end of the story, she's not exactly an expert in that field, no matter how much she wishes her life would be just like the musicals she so eagerly absorbs herself in.
Hugh finishes with a deep breath, eyes blazing at his leads. He waits expectantly.
Rachel opens her mouth to speak, but it's Jake that beats her to the chase. "I thought we were just fine."
"Fine? Fine?! Is that what type of actor you want to be, Mr Mills. One who is just fine?"
Chastised, he bows his head, folding his arms over his chest in a defensive stance. "No," he mumbles.
"When I hired you both, I thought that you could bring the va voom to this scene, but clearly not." Eyes boring into them, he says, "maybe I made a mistake – maybe you're both too young to understand the real urgency of this scene." He perches his fingers neatly under his chin.
"No!" she's quick to response, jumping forward a step, "Mr Barnes, please. We just need more practice to get it right!" Glancing to Jake and back, she finds him nodding eagerly. "We'll rehearse for longer – we won't stop until it's absolutely perfect, I promise."
His stare remains unsatisfied, but he pulls his hand down, dismissing them casually. "Go," he says, "and come back at five when you're both ready to commit to the role that I so graciously offered. If you're ready." Sending a look to the pair of them that leaves Rachel with a void inside, he strides backstage with his notes pressed tightly to his chest. She sighs, bowing her head and bringing her hands to cover her face.
Jake joins her in the sigh, "guess I better go and enjoy my last bit of freedom before he spends the next few hours working us to the bone."
She gives a wry smile, nodding. "I think you're right. He's not very happy with us, is he?"
"I just wish I knew how to improve," he laments, "I'm trying my best, but every time I think I'm getting somewhere, he goes and changes the direction. It's frustrating."
Rachel offers him a gently pat on the arm. "Hey, you're really good. Don't let this deter you." She bites her lower lip, and then adds in an even more delicate voice, "and if Mr Barnes didn't think that you were good, then he wouldn't have hired you... We just, we'll have to rehearse more until we get the scene right." Though he doesn't outwardly brighten at her words, she can see the difference in his expression, before he gives a small nod.
As far as she knows, this is his first real role, which makes it all the more nerve wrecking, not to mention that he's originating one. That's not something for the faint hearted. Just a few years her junior, he's been in a series of smaller productions, but nothing on this scale, and Rachel hopes that her speech has had some sort of effect on him. Because she of all people knows how difficult this business can be – a world of perfectionists constantly wanting appraisal. And that desire doesn't diminish with time.
She watches him through her dark lashes, the way his entire chest heaves with a huge sigh. "Come on," she starts, "there's this really nice café a few streets away." His head snaps up. "My treat? And maybe we can go over some notes for the performance while we're there.. you know, see if we can redeem ourselves in the eyes of the ever knowing Hugh Barnes." Her smile begins small, but grows as his does.
"Alright," he relents, "since you're twisting my arm so much."
Rachel chuckles softly then, leading him to get their coats.
With their new plan and some food in them, rehearsals seem that little bit easier, but she doesn't know what's crawled up the director's butt because he still manages to find faults in every small detail. It gets to the point where she has a rather unruly outburst about his constant nitpicking, to which it's decided that it's late, and they're all tired and ready to go home.
She rushes out of the theatre and makes the usual walk toward Covent garden underground station, frowning at the light drizzle falling from the dark sky. Her coat is hardly thick enough to keep her warm from the strong winds, but she does her best and urges her legs to move faster. The City lights are almost blinding against the dark backdrop, and the noise of the traffic calls out above everything else.
Until she hears one thing a familiar voice not too far behind her. Turning, she furrows her brows as a car pulls up to the sidewalk, the tinted black window opened just a few inches. If Rachel hadn't heard the voice before, she would've stepped back and avidly avoided the car, but her own curiosity gets the better of her. A particular strong gust of wind sweeps past her, pushing her hair in all directions. When the window finally does wind down fully, she's pleasantly surprised to see Ethan at the wheel, a smile tugging at his lips. "Get in," he says softly, and Rachel does so without a second thought.
The warmth of the car instantly embraces her, Rachel letting out a shiver at the change of environment. She flattens down her hair as much as she can, only having a few seconds to feel guilty about getting the interior of the car wet with her clothes. Tiredness suddenly fades over her, where she throws her head back against the head res, closing her eyes. "Long day?"
Turning, she finds Ethan watching her with an inquisitive expression.
"A long, long day," she mumbles, "the director wasn't exactly in the best of moods."
"Oh, at least it's over now. And tomorrow's a whole new day."
She smiles, "tomorrow I don't have rehearsals. I get to spend it all with Oliver."
He grins right along with her. "How old is he now?"
"Almost nine months."
"Wow, it feels like only yesterday you were telling me he was three months..." His eyes remain to the road, "time flies by, huh?"
"Yeah," she chuckles, "I'm surprised that you recognized me."
The glance that he gives her is unreadable, but explained by his next words. "Well, I remember people pretty easily, especially people that I've kissed."
Rachel finds herself stilling, trying not to think about the last time they'd been together, where they'd somehow ending up making out. Her gut clenches together, at first unable to look in his direction in fear that he'll be upset about the whole situation. "Hey," she starts, "about not calling you Ethan -"
"Don't," he waves her off casually, "things sounded pretty complicated when George told me the basics of what'd happened... how is everything now? With Oliver's dad, I mean?" The long sigh that ensues is all the answer that he needs, and he sends an apologetic smile towards her. "Sorry to hear that."
"No, it's fine," she puts on a smile, "things are... fine." Rachel shakes her head then, not wanting to be reminded of the situation. Tucking some hair behind her ear, she peers to him curiously. It takes only a few seconds before he realizes that she's watching him, twisting his neck to stare right back at her for a moment.
"What?"
"You don't need to be so nervous," she laughs, the light melodic sound lifting her spirit after the rotten day, "I was just wondering why you were out so late."
He gives a wry smile then, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Well, I'm pretty busy these days, running my the firm and all."
When she pieces together the new information, an excited squeal follows. "You started your own firm? Oh Ethan, that's great!"
Beaming proudly, he chuckles, "it'll be a couple months old soon. It's great, just very tiring – still, things are going pretty well. I can't complain."
"Well I've gotta give props to you, because I couldn't stay at work this late doing tax law." She scrunches up her nose at the very thought; while her work may be tiring too, it's incredibly rewarding when the show makes its way onto the stage. "I think I'd die of boredom."
"So you wouldn't believe me if I said it was sometimes just a little interesting?"
She doesn't even give that any thought, instantly shaking her head. "Not for a second."
"Well then I guess it's good you have a job that doesn't involve any tax law, only singing and jazz hands and show circles."
Raising her eyebrow, she pouts slightly. "Is that all you think I do? Acting is very demanding, you know? Not only is it difficult work, but it's emotionally draining at times." He holds his hand up in surrender.
"I know, I was just pulling your leg." He gives a toothy smile, "and I'm sure you're amazing at it." Ethan clears his throat then, cheeks tinting pink as he tries to speak. Eventually he gets the words out, "maybe I could come and see you perform some time? Everyone keeps saying how good you are and I'm yet to see that."
She stares at him blankly for a couple of seconds, before blinking a couple of times. "Y – you want to see me perform?" It shouldn't catch her by surprise, but it does, a pleasant warmth spreading through her as his attention remains on her. She doesn't know what it is about Ethan; everything with him just seems so easy, like it's no effort to be his friend at all. Here they are, and they haven't spoken in months, yet it feels like no time has passed at all. They're not even close, just friends of a mutual friend. That's something that she has to remind herself, because with the way he's smiling at her now, she swears it's like he's known her for years.
"Yeah," he nods, voice honest, "course I do."
"Well then," she visibly brightens, "I'll have to get you some tickets, won't I?"
Rachel has to question herself over and over as she hands the tickets over to Katie, knowing that she'll be able to get them to Ethan for her. She quickly ignores her friend's probing for more information, keeping any information short and vague.
It was a one time thing, she tells herself. One time.
Until it isn't.
Because it happens a couple of days later, then the week after, until Ethan insists that she calls him every time she's at the theater late. It's kind of nice, because she hates getting the train home when it's that late. She's never liked public transport anyway, but at night it's creepy and the lingering smell of pee is the worst.
But Ethan's car smells like his cologne, a strong, husky smell that leaves her breathless, and he always knows what to say, relative to what mood she's in.
Sometimes it's a little bit too comfortable. She laughs along with him and smiles, and she finds herself sharing things she thought she never would. Only to panic later. The first time it happens she steps slowly into her house and spends the next hour thinking about the whole situation. The only thing she's certain about is that she doesn't want to lead Ethan on; he's much to nice a guy for that. But she's not doing that to him, she insists over and over. They're just friends, and that's all they're going to be.
No matter how many times she repeats that over through her mind, it keeps hitting a brick wall. Never sinking in. Maybe she doesn't want it to, maybe... Rachel sighs, unable to finish that thought. Her eyes drift over to her answering machine, where a message from Finn has been waiting since she'd returned home. She uses it as a distraction, pushing Ethan and all of her confusion from her mind, instead focusing her attention elsewhere.
The message is like always, wanting to check in on Oliver (and her), making sure that he (they) have everything that they need. At the end, she hears the quiet, hesitant "call me back" before it ends. She sighs then, feeling more tired than ever. It's not too late, but with all the thoughts weighing on her mind she finds herself exhausted. It takes her last bit of energy to send him a quick facebook message, hopefully keeping his concern at bay until the next time they talk.
She can't help the way her mind slips back to Ethan and that whole... situation. It's not exactly a secret that he's been interested in her in the past, and Rachel finds herself wondering it it's still true.
She checks the clock one more time, making sure that it's the agreed time for her and Finn to both Skype, Oliver bouncing on her lap. He grins as he tries pushing the entirety of the keyboard until she pulls his hands away. "No sweetie, we don't do that."
"No!" he says happily, reaching forward to do it again.
"Oliver," Rachel continues in a stern voice, tugging him back so that he can't reach any buttons, "we don't mess with the computer."
Dramatically so, he throws himself back, shouting "no!" over and over. She does her best to keep the annoyance out of her voice as she chastises him, but it's been a hard week, ever since he realized the word "no" exists. Now, it's his response to everything.
"Do you want to see Daddy?" she asks, hoping to distract him long enough that the tantrum will stop.
"Dada no! No, no!" he cries. He doesn't even stop as she slowly pulls him into a hug, whispering soothing words to him. She's in the middle of this when Finn's webcam loads, the man raising his eyebrows as though to ask what's going on.
"Hey baby, look who it is," she points out, turning him so that he can see Finn clearly. Oliver immediately pulls the shutter on his tears, leaning up on his knees to get a better look at the screen, while one hand reaches out to touch it.
"Hey bud," Finn grins, just like always. His face lights up, a beam that could rival her biggest growing on his lips – she watches as those dimples appear in the middle of his cheeks, matching ones worn by her son.
Oliver stares wide eyed to the screen, "dada!" He wiggles in her lap, trying to get closer to Finn, "dada, hi!"
Finn gives a small wave to his son, "hi." He repeats in a voice equally as chirpy, "did you miss me? I know that I missed you!" Though Oliver doesn't understand the words, he still smiles at Finn, just happy to hear his daddy's voice. Rachel loves watching their interactions, and she's the audience to this every couple of days. Finding the time to skype isn't exactly the easiest, between her play, Finn's awkward hours at the firehouse, and the five hour time difference, but they both know that despite everything that's going on with their relationship, they need to keep things consistent for Oliver.
And she really does want Finn to be a big part in Oliver's life. With the huge distance between them, it's difficult, especially for Finn. But at least this way they get to see each other a few times a week, and she knows that they'll get that time to bond with each other.
Though he's barely able to respond, Oliver returns Finn's words with his cute baby babble. "No way," Finn nods along enthusiastically, acting shocked at the incoherent noises from him. "You don't say."
Rachel can't stop herself from laughing along. It's moments like this that she has hope; it's just sad that they're too far and few between.
Oliver giggles almost manically as George pretends to lift him in the air like a plane, swooping him back and forth. "If he's sick," Rachel begins, her mouth pushed into a thin line, "then don't come crying to me."
"Relax," he says emphatically, "he's not going to do that. This is his favorite game."
She gives a small smile then, happy when George passes her son back to her, though he's looking slightly paler than before. She sets a hard glare on her friend; the last thing she needs is her baby upchucking on her. She's had enough bad experiences with that. She's wary as she places him to the ground, mindful that George's house doesn't have any baby gates and Oliver seems to get curiouser and curiouser as the older he gets.
Peering over at her, George clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, dropping beside her and Oliver on the couch. "It's nice to hang out again. I feel like it's been weeks."
"It probably has been," she nods, a little sadly. "I've been bombarded with more rehearsals than ever and Mr Big shot over here just landed a part on a national TV show." Rachel nudges him playfully, though she can't hide the pride from her expression. After Oliver! Rather than return to the stage, he'd auditioned for a small recurring role in a situation comedy Not going out, and just as he'd wowed her with his talent, he'd cast the same spell over the producers. But the new schedule had meant most of his days filming while she's juggling her own work and motherhood, leaving little mutual time to get together.
For now, she leans back more comfortably in the couch and sips at her water. George has opted for a cider, one of his go to drinks for if a game is on TV.
"Call me that again," he grins, "I liked it."
She scrunches up her nose, shaking her head lightly. "Is it exciting? You're going to be on television!" Her expression becomes distant for a moment, before she utters out, "I'd love to be on TV one day."
"It's pretty cool," he nods, "I do miss performing though."
"But this is a whole other type of performing," she beams with enthusiasm. "I'm so happy for you."
"Thanks. Katie just keeps saying how jealous she is. But it's not my fault she decided to have a career working with children." He pulls a face then, only to earn a glare from her.
Offended, she covers Oliver's ears. "George Staley, what is wrong with children?" Her narrowed eyes are enough to make him shift uncomfortably, but he still manages a small cringe.
"Well, they're messy and noisy, and just... not my cup of tea, you know?" She doesn't look impressed, "it'll be different if I have my own kids one day but right now I wouldn't choose to look after someone else's. Unless like, it was you asking me. Some kids are just brats."
"Oliver isn't," she pouts.
"Okay, okay – Oliver is an exception. Well, except for the noisy part, that kid is louder than you sometimes, I swear."
Rachel gives a strong roll of her eyes. "I feel sorry for whoever you decide to procreate with."
"Hey," he shoves her playfully, earning a modest giggle from Rachel. "Kids just aren't my thing. I don't mind babysitting this little rascal every once in a while, but that's really it." She smiles at him then, patting his arm gently. "I guess it's a good thing he has a mum like you, isn't it?" The words surprise her, and Rachel finds herself staring to George for a moment. The pride must be radiating from her, because he smiles in response.
She waits another few seconds, before grinning at him. "I've really missed you," she states.
"Yeah, me too."
She slowly hands Ethan his coffee, joining him back at the couch with a gentle smile. He returns it. "Thanks Rachel," he says, for a moment eyes drifting outside where rain batters against the windows, "some day, huh?"
"I'm happy," she grins, "I don't have work today. You, on the other hand, have to go to the office."
"Don't remind me," he grumbles.
Rachel stifles her own giggle then. Above the noise of the rain, they can each hear Oliver playing with his toys, one of them being a book that sings the words on the pages. He chuckles at the sounds and music, every so often looking up to her and calling her name. As Ethan blows out a long sigh, her attention is drawn his way, where she watches his with sympathy.
The stress on his features is obvious, and from the last few weeks of becoming closer to him as a friend, she's quickly learned that his job is no easy feat. He's constantly on the go. Today is an exception; today, he'd been given the rare gift of a couple hours free for lunch. And to her surprise he'd asked if he could come and visit her. He'd been working from home, so he hadn't been too far away, and Rachel had readily accepted the suggestion.
Their dirty plates from lunch sit on the counter, and now they're enjoying a quiet drink together.
"This has been really nice," he states, eyes intent on her.
She widens her own ever so slightly, expression softening. "It has," she agrees, sipping at her tea. It's warm and sweet as it runs down her throat, and she lets out a content sigh as she leans back into the cushion.
He continues, clearing his throat nervously. "Rachel..."
Rachel watches him, the way his eyes drift over her face. And his is so close to hers, leaning in further. But she feels powerless to stop the movement, an internal battle as to whether this is what she wants or not. Ethan has been so many things to her in these last few weeks, and not one of those is negative. But still, is she... does she want something more out of this friendship? She doesn't know. If she's being completely honest with herself, she's been avoiding that thought as much as possible. Because when she thinks about it, she considers about how it'll affect so much, not just herself. There's Oliver to consider in this, too. And Finn, it'd affect him. As much as she tells herself that she doesn't care, she knows that she does.
While all these thoughts rush through her mind, Ethan is still inching ever so closer. Before she knows it, his puckered lips brush against hers in a chaste kiss. Rachel feels frozen, her mind completely blank, but not in the way of happiness, but instead pure shock. The same shock that takes a few seconds to shake off before she's back in reality, shoving his shoulder backwards and ripping her lips from his.
"Ethan," she cries out, her voice raising an octave.
He pulls back as though her touch seared his skin, eyes wide. "I – I just... oh crap."
All she can do is stare at him. "You kissed me."
"I'm sorry," he shakes his head as worry laces his tone. "I just really wanted to kiss you and then I... I did. It just felt like the right thing to do."
"The right thing to do?" she shoots back, more scared than angry. The surprise still runs through her system, leaving her shaky as she continues to gawk at the man. Now she can't just ignore it – it's pretty damn hard to ignore a kiss. And it's clear as day that Ethan still has feelings for her, whether she likes it or not. "So what? You've just been waiting for the right moment to kiss me?" His silence says yes. "I can't believe this," she paces to the other end of the room and back again, unable to bring her eyes toward his.
Ethan reaches out for her, "Rachel."
"You know," she starts, "you know that I'm not..." Though she doesn't finish the sentence, Ethan's expression is empathetic.
"That you're not dating, yeah. But why? I still have no idea. It's pretty hard to be able to help you get over whatever Oliver's dad put you through when all I get is 'it's complicated.'"
Her head snaps up then, eyes scrunching closed. She doesn't need to hear this. Not in her own home. "I'm just," she starts, jaw tense, "I'm not ready Ethan."
"Not ready? Rachel, if you don't ever talk about it, then how are you supposed to ever be ready?" He throws back.
Rachel's eyes narrow, "I don't want to talk about it." She's sure that if she tells Ethan everything, all the stupid things that have happened – and which could've been avoided – she knows that he won't see her the same way. And Ethan is one of the few people that acts like a true friend, someone that she doesn't want thinking of her in a negative way. Though clearly that can never really be avoided as at that moment he's just as annoyed as her, frustrated with the lack of information he's been given.
He steps closer to her, hands wrapping tightly around her shoulders. "Rach, you can't keep it all bottled up."
She opens her mouth to speak, to tell him that she doesn't. Katie is her confidant in this whole thing, the person who tells her what she honestly things; sometimes Rachel thinks she needs that the most. She just doesn't know how to tell Ethan that exact reason why she doesn't want him knowing. Rachel shudders out her breath, pushing down the lump in her throat as he waits for her to say something.
When she doesn't, his expression is nothing short of pained. "I like you – I really like you. And I know that you feel the same way. I just wish you'd tell me what's holding you back." His face suddenly scrunches up, clearly not wanting to say the next thing, "are you still in love with this guy?"
"Ethan," she sighs.
"You didn't say no..." He drops his head sadly.
Reaching out, she cups his chin and lifts it back up, forcing him to look at her. "That doesn't matter," she tells him, "all you need to know is that I'm not ready to date. I really don't like talking about everything that happened with Finn and I, and I don't know when I will be able to. But when I am ready... you'll be the first to know, okay?"
There's a long pause as he soaks up her words, his expression changing every few seconds. With a resigned sigh, he eventually nods. "Okay Rachel." His looks to his watch then, and though they both know he doesn't have to go yet, he insists so. In all honesty she doesn't blame him.
Finn picks up on the first ring, probably because she'd literally just messaged him saying to wait for her call. "Hello," he answers, voice soft.
"Hey Finn," she starts, "have you got a few minutes to talk?"
"Okay." He must assume that something is up, because usually their calls start with her letting him talk to Oliver, but not today. "Is everything alright?" The worry slips into his voice, taking control.
"Finn, it's fine." She manages a small smile then. "I actually wanted to talk to you about Oliver's birthday." At that thought, she grows giddy with anticipation of the upcoming birthday; it's still a little hard to swallow that her baby boy will be one soon, but she's determined to celebrate it in the right way.
"Oh, right. I was going to bring that up soon as well. It's so close now." There's a fondness to his voice that she's missed, because when they talk nowadays they're both holding back, she knows. Though she's convinced her decision is the best for Oliver, it doesn't make it any easier when she's trying to deny herself Finn. Feelings or not, she misses talking to him more than anything. His voice has always been soothing to her, his presence a familiarity that she still struggles with losing these days. Being with him feels like a total juxtaposition however, because she's happy and sad at the same time.
Even now, the smile she wears has a hint of melancholy. "Yeah... I can't believe he's going to be one. It doesn't feel like a whole year has passed, does it?"
"Not at all," he chuckles. She loves that sound. Rachel chuckles, too, sinking further into the cushions. "So, what's the plan then?"
"Well, I actually wanted to throw the party at my house – all my friends want to come and I figured that if I do this one, then you can throw the next one and... we'll just keep taking turns."
He gives pause, before agreeing with a kind, "Sure. We'll have to let everyone in advance so that they can fly over, but that seems fair. I'll plan to get there the day before though, just to see him a bit longer. That's okay, right?"
"Of course. You know can take him out somewhere; he'd love that." She smiles fondly as she thinks of her son, "every time I mention daddy he just keeps repeating it to me."
"Really?" If she isn't mistaken, she's sure that she can hear tears in his words.
She gulps down the lump in her throat. "He loves you so much, Finn. You know that."
"Has he said anything else yet? How is he coming along with walking?"
His eagerness brings another smile to her lips, "a few more things. He points at the TV and says 'car' a lot." Her eyes drift over to the boy in his playpen, giggling at his multicolored drum kit. "And as for walking, we haven't got very far with that one. He'll pull himself into the standing position, but that's it. He's only ever "walked" with me holding him up."
"He's going to be a handful when he is walking," Finn announces.
"He already is a handful," she laughs.
It goes quiet then, their conversation slipping to that point where they're both unsure where to go next, not wanting to push them over their precarious position on the edge. But today, Finn dares to take a gamble. "What about you, Rach? How are you?"
She sucks in a breath, unsure of when the last time either had either uttered that question. "Finn," she begins, voice strained. This is all how it starts, with the amicable pleasantries, but it's never that simple with the two of them. It hasn't been for a long time.
"Rachel," he says, sternly so. "I know that things aren't the way they used to be. Things have... they've changed a lot. I just want to know that you're taking care of yourself."
Despite knowing she should just give a curt answer, she finds the words flowing freely from her lips. "I'm doing just fine. I guess - sometimes it's hard to work so much and at the same time be a full time mom... but I could be doing a lot worse."
"You're amazing at it, Rach. I can see how much Oliver loves you." She smiles at his words, heart clenching tightly. Even more so when the next ones follow. "I'm really proud of you, you know."
"Finn," she says again.
"I just wanted to tell you," he speaks before she has the chance to tell him to stop, "I wanted to make you smile."
"You don't know if I'm smiling or not," she says, though she finds her lips curves upwards anyway.
"I can hear it in your voice." Finn points out, much to her disbelief. But he doesn't allow her the chance to respond to that, continuing to speak, "I have to go, Rach. But just message me more details about the party, okay?"
"Okay," she quietly agrees. "Bye Finn."
She grins to herself as Oliver slowly toddles forward. Stood in front of her, his arms in the air where his small fingers clasp around hers, she keeps him steady. Rachel finds herself beaming down toward him when he looks up at her, dimples hiding in his chubby cheeks. "Right you," she easily lifts him and slips him to her hip, "let's get you in your stroller so that we can go to Katie's house."
He doesn't resist as he's strapped into the contraption, though whines as Rachel moves away, collecting her coat from the hallway. "Mama," he calls, hands stretching out for her. She gives a soft smile, kneeling down so that she's face to face with him, and then gently cups his chin.
"I'm right here, baby." She kisses his forehead then, ever so gently. And she makes sure that he's warm enough inside the stroller.
It takes just under a ten minute walk before she finds herself knocking on the door on Katie's home. When the door opens, she's in the middle of cleaning off Oliver's pacifier that he thinks is hilarious to keep throwing to the floor. "Took you long enough. I'm freezing my butt off out – Ethan." Her eyes widen at the sight of the man standing where her friend ought to be, Rachel only managing to gape at him.
He gives that oh so charming smile that probably makes all the girls swoon. Unfortunately for Rachel, she's one of those girls. The sight of it makes her knees go weak, cheeks growing pink. "I assume you want to come inside?" he starts, to which she can only nod dumbly. Ethan smiles hesitantly, and then opens the door wider for her. Though they haven't exactly fallen out, they pair aren't on the best of terms either.
"What – what are you doing here?" she breathes out.
She catches the way his smile falters, only briefly. He then stuffs his hands in his pockets, head twisting so it's facing toward the kitchen, "work was slow, so I abused my position as the boss to come here and have a break. There's nice food here." He flashes her a cheeky smile, "Katie didn't say you were coming."
"I -"
Just as she's poised to speak, Oliver sits higher in his stroller, neck craning to see who it is that his mother's talking to. "Hi!" he calls from his lower position, not wanting to be left out any longer. Ethan sends a look her way, before crouching down to his haunches to be at eye level with the boy.
"Hello Oliver," he grins, "it's very nice to see you again." Big, brown eyes stare up at him, and Rachel only smiles to her son fondly. "He looks so much like you," Ethan comments with a sweet smile. He then hesitates, lips pursing with uncertainty, "do you mind if I...?" He gestures to Oliver.
"Oh, sure!" She reaches down quickly and in a matter of seconds has him unbuckled from the stroller. He wriggles in her arms as she moves the stroller out of the way until she's facing Ethan directly. Her eyes are bright as she passes him over, unable to help herself from correcting the position that he holds him in. "Sorry," she mumbles at the way he chuckles, "I'm just a little overprotective of him. He's my baby." She pouts toward him. Reaching out, her fingers gently brush through Oliver's thick baby hair, while Ethan bounces him on his hip The small but quick movement brings out the giggles in Oliver and, upon seeing his reaction, Rachel too.
Chuckles fill the room as Oliver shouts, "up, up!" and then throwing his arms in the air a though he were flying.
The smile on Rachel's face is irreplaceable as Ethan grants his wish, lifting him higher with ease. "You're a natural with him," she comments, her voice soft. Ethan slows then, staring to her with a suddenly more serious expression, one that makes her smile falter slightly. His eyes bore into hers for a moment, capturing her in a trance. When she tries to say anything further, the words catch in her throat, and she can only concentrate on his dark eyes; they stare back at her almost proudly.
"Ugh, my mum is going sick becau – um, guys?"
Rachel instantly blinks, pulling her gaze away from Ethan and to the smug look growing on Katie's face.
"Well," her friend steps forward, her phone still clutched between her fingers, "aren't you two cute?"
Bowing his head shyly, Ethan mumbles out, "shut up, Kate."
She holds her hands up in mock surrender, then turns her attention to Rachel. "Did you only just get here?" She nods, "good, I was just about to kick out this freeloader." She points to Ethan with a look of annoyance.
"Oh, you don't have to kick him out for me," Rachel shrugs. "He can stay if he wants..."
The narrowed eyes of her friend are hard to ignore, but she busies herself in taking Oliver from Ethan and cleaning the little bit of drool from his lips. "Well, if you stay you're just going to have to here me complain about Denny all afternoon," Katie announces sweetly, a killer grin on her face. Rachel holds back a smile at the way Ethan playfully groans, begrudgingly announcing his return to work.
Just as he's slipping on his jacket, ready to leave, Rachel takes hold of his arm. His face softens then, and he looks to her expectantly.
Still, catching her gaze moving to his mahogany eyes once more, Rachel struggles to summon any coherent words. His smile only grows, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. "What is it?" her asks with that gentle tone to his voice.
She eventually has to force them out, "well, it's Oliver's birthday in a couple of weeks, and I'm having a party at my house. My family and friends are even flying over and I thought maybe... you know, you'd like to come?"
Hugging Oliver tightly to her chest, she waits nervously for a response. "Yeah, 'course. I'd love to."
"Great," she beams.
He reaches for his jacket, slipping it on as he stares only to her, "you have my number, so just text me all the details and I'll see you there."
Nodding, she watches him as he slowly says his goodbye to Kate. Passing her, he gives a bright smile and a quick wave, though she can see the bounce in his step. It makes her heart flutter to even consider that she might be the reason for it. The door closes after him, the noise of it disrupting Oliver who was happily playing with her necklace. He whines in her ear as she goes to put him in the playpen, and Rachel busies herself with comforting him while she can feel Katie's gaze burning a hole in her back.
Eventually, she has to face the music. Turning, she finds her friend stood with an eyebrow pointed perfectly upwards, her foot tapping the floor impatiently. "So, are you going to tell me what that was, or let me just assume what I thought it was?"
"He's my friend," she rolls her eyes, "I was just inviting him to my son's birthday party."
Katie scoffs, "a friend that you made out like, an hour after you met. And who has shown nothing but clear interest in your for months – do you really think it's a good idea, Rachel? You're just going to lead him on, and Ethan doesn't deserve that."
She's quiet for a few moments, her gaze moving to the floor. "He's my friend," she repeats.
"Who is crazy about you."
Rachel's face remains stoic. "I know how he feels about me. He kissed me."
The gossip has Katie's eyes sparkling with curiosity and surprise, "he what? Did you kiss him back?"
"Not really," she shifts uncomfortably under the sudden intensity of her gaze. "I guess I'm just going to see what happens then – I'm not leading him on," she states when Katie opens her mouth to speak, "but I'm not saying no altogehther either..."
"I'm happy for you. Ethan is great... if anything does happen, he'll treat you right. I promise."
Her cheeks grow pink as she remembers her past run ins with the man, his sweet nature all too easy to fall for. The same sweet nature that she'd fallen hard for over three years ago when she and Finn had first met. Rachel shakes her head to rid herself of those thoughts, because she doesn't want those relationships to tangle together in a mess. That's the last thing she wants. There's her and Ethan, and then there's her and Finn. While one withers, she can feel the other coming to life. Like the transition from one season to another, and she tells herself in the back of her mind – and the front of her heart – that she's okay with that. But Rachel doesn't quite believe herself.
"Kurt," she says his voice softly, "stop panicking. It was just a fight." She wishes that she could reach out a hand and gently pull him into a hug, but no such luck. Rachel huffs; the long distance sure sucks sometimes, and seeing each other in person every few months never seems like enough time. Right now, as she watches Kurt no longer even trying to keep his tears at bay, she finds her heart breaking in two at the sight of him so upset.
"We've never fought like that before though," he sniffles, "he keeps bringing up how much I'm working. I just – I want us to have so many things and for those things I need money." Kurt frowns, eyes thoughtful, "is that such a bad thing?"
She sighs then, "no, of course it's not bad Kurt. But you're newly-weds... can you really blame Blaine for just wanting to spend time with you?"
His head bows, guilt sinking into his expression. Wiping at his eyes, he drags in a long breath of air. "I guess I'll talk to him later; maybe I have been working a little too much."
Rachel gives him a sympathetic smile, "I'm sure he'll understand."
"I don't know, that argument wasn't fun." He visibly slumps, "I mean, it was no Finn and Maddy argument, but it was definitely our worst." She pauses then, eyes squinting in confusion at his words. Kurt must realize what he's just said, because his eyes widen slightly, despite his attempts to cover that. And he rushes to change the subject, talking about the summer line at Vogue.
"Wait," she stops him before he can go any further, stress deeply rooted in her voice, "what?"
Kurt's expression displays minor panic, "it's nothing. You know that they've had their rocky moments..."
"But," she splutters for further words, unable to understand how he's sweeping this to the side so casually. She knows that she doesn't see them as much as she used to, and that she's hardly the most knowledgeable on their relationship, but just the way that Kurt had said that has her stomach unsettled, frown permanent.
The night before Oliver's birthday, she comes home late. After picking him up from Katie's, she gently carries him into the house and pushes the stroller just beside the stairs, trying to keep as quiet as possible. He hangs over his shoulder, all limbs falling uselessly in his deep sleep.
She can still the director's praise for finally hitting the mark with the reunion scene, even earning a small applause from the man. And just as she'd left, he'd congratulated her for a job well done, stating that the audience is going to be blown away if she keeps it up. Rachel may as well have been floating on cloud nine at that point Fulfilling her dreams while being a mother is something she knew would be difficult, but as each day passes, she's proving to herself time and time again that she can do it.
Climbing the usual ascent to his room, she takes her time tonight. This is the last night she'll do this with him being under one year old; she wants to remember him being her baby boy for as long as she can. Because every time she blinks he's learned something knew, he's grown that little bit more. While it's exciting to watch, she misses the tiny baby she brought home from hospital almost one year ago.
Oliver remains completely still as she changes his diaper, then hugs him against her chest. He's warm and soft, and she can't help smiling at how much love she feels while she cradles him. Bathed in the soft light, she kisses his forehead and then lowers him into the crib. He barely stirs. A chuckle follows at that – both she and Finn are heavy sleepers, so it's really no surprise that the light movement has had little effect on her son.
"Goodnight baby," she whispers gently to him, finding it difficult to pull herself away from the sleeping child, but one glance at the sun shaped clock shows that it's past midnight. With a tired smile, she adds to Oliver. "Happy birthday. I love you so much." It's then that she finally manages to tear herself from the room and to her own. The bed is so inviting when she eventually crawls under the covers, a content smile gracing her lips. She knows to appreciate this happy moment, because when she wakes up she'll have to prepare a party while at the same time taking care of her now one year old. And then Finn'll be there; Maddy, too. But she pushes that to the back of her mind as she allows herself to get excited over Ethan coming to the party. She's sure that his easy and open conversation will offer her some escape from all the stress and worry.
Scratch that, she's sure that nothing will ease all of this stress from her system.
She spends the morning juggling decorating the house and garden – her eyes worriedly looking over the gray clouds in the distance – while trying to keep a cranky one year old happy. Honestly, out of all days he chooses this one to wake up in a foul mood and cry for no reason whatsoever. Not only that, but screaming out her name every time she's out of sight. She tries every possible thing to calm him, but the screeching persists, to the point where she starts panicking, convincing herself that something is seriously wrong and that she'll have to take him to the emergency room.
Even with the miserable birthday boy, she has to push on. Most of the food she'd already prepared the day before, and Finn had offered to cook any of the BBQ things when he arrives. With a glance at her watch she realizes that he'll be arriving pretty soon. Sadly with Maddy in tow, but she's not going to let that ruin the day. Honestly, all she cares about is making sure that Oliver is happy and enjoys his birthday; even though she seems to be doing a bad job at that lately. Though his crying is less of the shrill sound that it was, he still whimpers and cries quietly, the occasional hiccup thrown in. She takes one look at his red face, the tears welling in her eyes and she shares his misery.
"What's wrong, baby?" she asks him, even though she knows she won't get an answer. Holding him tightly to her chest, she tries bouncing Oliver lightly. "I wish you could tell me." A small sigh follows, and she gently combs her fingers through his hair in what she hopes is a soothing manner.
She carries him throughout the house as she continues working, because putting him down is only going to start him up again, and she's enjoying the relative quiet in the house. Oliver even cracks a smile as she lets him play with some of the balloons floating by the door.
When the doorbell rings, she sighs and braces herself for Finn's arrival. And besides, she knows that Oliver's going to be excited to see him again. "I think your daddy might be here," she tells her son with a soft smile, carrying him over to the door. But as she opens it, she's surprised to see Ethan staring back at her in place of Finn. In his hands, he carries a large box, neatly wrapped with baby blue wrapping paper and finished with a lighter bow.
Her smile grows. "Ethan," she starts pleasantly, "you're here early."
"Well, I figured you might need a little help setting up." His tone is hesitant, almost questioning, and she can't help but love the way his cheeks grow pink ever so slightly.
"You're a lifesaver." She announces, welcoming him inside with a strong hug, though it's slightly interrupted with Oliver wedged between them. As he pulls away, his eyes float around the hall and into the living room, taking in the decoration.
"I see you've managed to get a lot done."
She puffs out her cheeks a little, all the while sure that her appearance is nothing less than frazzled. It's been a stressful morning; while she's sure Ethan knows that, she finds herself wishing that she looked a little more put together. "I did my best. Oliver has been a little grumpy this morning."
"Oh has he?" he questions softly. She can't keep the grin from her face – his accent is so sweet, so full of charm, but in a way that he doesn't even realize, which in turn makes it all that more attractive. "Do you want me to take him while you finish up, or is there anything I can help you with?"
Rachel grows a little sheepish then, "well, there are some banners that I've been trying to hang up, but I'm a little on the short side."
His eyebrows cocks up immediately, "a little?"
She replies with a pout then. Ethan's not exactly Finn tall, but he's probably just under six foot, and still able to tower over her. That's not the most difficult accomplishment though. While he chuckles to himself, she only passes the banners and points to where she wants them to go. "Mama," Oliver tiredly mumbles to her, his droopy eyes watching the blue banners as they're secured to the wall, "mama, up."
"That's right, baby. They're going up." She coos at him. He leans back in her embrace, neck craning to stare as far back as he can, while she only laughs at him.
Ethan smiles, too. "Does this look alright?" he searches for confirmation, to which Rachel gives a small nod.
"Perfect."
His expression is nothing but pride then, and she bows her head slightly when she sees it, eyes shy. "Oh, I think someone's falling asleep," Ethan says in a hushed tone. Head snapping back up, she looks fondly to Oliver who has succumb to tiredness after a good few hours of wearing himself out. For that, she's thankful and goes to place him in his playpen on a plethora of pillows so he'll hopefully wake up to be the cheery and happy son that she's used to.
Ethan leads her back into the kitchen with his hand on the small of her back, causing shivers to shoot up and down her spine. They're quiet as he helps her arrange some of the snacks and drinks on the table, but she feels his eyes on her more than they're on his task. "So," Ethan eventually interrupts the blissful quiet, "are there a lot of people coming today?"
"Well, there's you, Katie, her boyfriend, George and some others from the theatre. I invited a few people from my other cast, but not all of them. My dads couldn't make it sadly – they're actually going to fly out next week when they get the chance. Um, my friends Kurt and Blaine from the states. Oliver's other grandparents are coming, which is nice. I love Carole. And of course Finn is going to be there."
He waits a couple of seconds, then asks, "with his wife?" The question isn't supposed to be spiteful; it's an honest question, and he watches her carefully just to be sure he hasn't said the wrong thing, but the way she stiffens is painfully obvious.
"Uh, yeah. She's coming too," she replies shortly, keeping her own gaze on the table.
"I didn't mean to -"
Rachel shakes her head, "no, it's fine. You didn't do anything. Look, I'm fine." The smile that she pushes to her lips is not her biggest, but it's still real. She watches the run of emotions plan out on his face, finally deciding on relief.
"Thank you for inviting me by the way, I really appreciate it."
She waves it off, "you don't need to thank me. We're friends, Ethan." She pauses, and then adds sincerely, "You've been a really good friend to me lately, when I've needed it most..." She doesn't elaborate, and he doesn't ask her to, but he nods in understanding. Rather than probe, he finishes plating up the food and then follows her into the garden to set out spare seats and decorations until everything is there except the guests.
At that point they return inside to check on Oliver, still snoozing contently, and wait for everyone else to get there. "Finn's on his way," she comments as she reads off the text to Ethan, only for him to nod. She bites her lip, thinking of the next thing to say. He's usually pretty open, but today she struggles to read him, instead lowering herself slowly to the seat beside him. Their shoulders brush past each other, yet she finds herself remaining in place and not moving those couple of inches to the side, nor does Ethan.
When she glances to him, hoping to find his gaze on her, it's instead trained to Oliver in the playpen, the hint of a smile on his lips. She takes that moment to soak in his features, the strong jawbone, those deep mahogany eyes and his altogether charming expression. If she didn't know better, she'd think he'd just stepped out of a movie. But she does know better, and what she does know is that he has more substance that the 'ten for a penny' male lead type. And that there's a lot more for her to learn about him, too. His eyes hold more stories than she'll ever be able to hear. With a striking revelation, it hits her harder than ever that she does want to hear them, all of them – as many as she can. That there's room in her heart for them all, for him. If he wants it.
Her breath shudders for a moment, realization leaving her momentarily shocked before happy, almost drunk with happiness. "Ethan," she says, quiet but confident. His head snaps from Oliver to her, smile faltering at the sudden change in demeanor in her.
"What is it?"
She bites her lip, for a moment doubting what she's about to do. She hesitates again, because this is going to change everything, and admitting that to herself is scary. But that the same time the fear brings with it excitement that she hasn't felt in her love life for a long time. Not since... Rachel shakes her head lightly, not wanting to think of Finn in a moment like this. Though that's easier said than done and it's an effort to expel all thoughts of him from her mind, focusing only on Ethan as he waits expectantly for her to speak.
Feeling breathless, she finally does. "I think... I'm ready."
"You," he pauses, eyes widening pleasantly in surprise, "you are?"
Rather than answer with words, she moves forward to capture his soft lips with hers. The action may catch him by surprise at first, but he eagerly reciprocates, his hand gently cupping just under her chin. His tender touch has goosebumps growing on her skin, her eyes closed in content. She embraces the feeling of happiness that the kiss brings, wanting to revel in it for as long as possible, but Ethan pulls back, those deep brown eyes suddenly worried. "You're sure about this Rachel?"
And suddenly she hesitates, the gravity of what she's just done tugging her painfully back to the ground. She looks to him, into his hopeful eyes. She knows that she can't just kiss him and then take it all away again due to some nagging doubt. She bites her lower lip, closing her eyes. Is she ready? Or did the moment just sweep her off her feet? Right now, she's not sure – it's been so long that she's done something like this that it's like she's forgotten how she's supposed to feel about it.
But Ethan is still glancing to her. Waiting, waiting for her to say yes. So she does. "I'm sure," she hopes he doesn't see the slight falter in her smile. When he still seems doubtful, she curls her fingers around his and continues, "this is what I want." She insists, and then repeats it in her head.
I hope you liked it! Admittedly, this fic is very Rachel centered, and focused a lot on her life in general than just Finchel, but I hope you're still enjoying the fic.
Please review :)