Chapter 120
Snuggling close to Bellamy, Clarke smoothed her hand over his bare chest and murmured, "Now that is one way to wake a girl up."
"You like that, huh?" he said.
"Yes. We should start off the day with sex more often." When she'd felt his hand in between her legs that morning, she'd at first assumed that it was just a really good dream. But nope, just a really good reality.
His hands stroked up and down her back, lightly, lovingly. "I can't believe how lucky I am to be here," he said. "Back with you, after everything."
"No, I'm the lucky one," she said, nuzzling her face against his chest. He didn't seem to realize yet that getting sober was just as brave and just as admirable as becoming Avery's father had been. He did so much for her and for their family. Not every girl had that. Aurora sure hadn't.
"I wanna renew my vows to you, Clarke," he blurted out suddenly.
She stopped moving her hand around his chest as she took that in. Vows? Renew? That was something her parents had been talking about doing once, but . . . well, obviously that never happened.
"I know that's something people usually do when they've been married a really long time," he continued. "But I've been thinking about it, and after everything we've been through . . . on our one-year anniversary, that's something I wanna do."
Her heart fluttered excitedly, and she tilted her head back to look up at him. "That'll be nice."
Leaning in, he gave her a soft, sweet kiss on the lips. "I'm gonna get to that one-year sober mark, too," he promised. "And then two years. Then three. And keep goin' after that."
"Yeah, I know." She really, truly believed in him. He was committed to this, so he was going to make it work. "That'll be a good anniversary, too." There would be a lot of one-year milestones worth celebrating next year, it seemed, starting with Avery's first birthday.
Bellamy got this serious look on his face all of a sudden, one that seemed out of place on such a flirty, lighthearted morning. "Clarke, I need to go somewhere today," he told her. "And I need you to come with me."
She frowned, not quite sure what he was talking about. It was Sunday, so he didn't have therapy. And with the football season over, there wouldn't be practice for a while. So whatever destination he had in mind, it wasn't a typical one.
...
When Clarke had asked him where they were going, Bellamy had decided not to answer, just because he wasn't sure whether she'd try to talk him out of it or not. He had this feeling in his gut, though, and it'd been there for a full day now. It was telling him to get in the car and go to the place he used to go on Sundays. But this time, he'd be showing up there for a different reason.
When he pulled up outside of Eligius, Clarke was very tense in the passenger's seat. She waited until he shut the car off, then asked, "Why are we here?"
It was understandable why she was confused, but to him, it just made perfect sense. "Because I wanna prove something to myself," he tried to explain. "As great as yesterday was . . . honestly, one of the greatest moments of my life hearing her say that . . ." He trailed off, allowing the happy memory to blend back in with their uncertain reality. "Finn's still coming around," he said. "And I don't know what his next move's gonna be. But it scares me. And a couple months ago, I would've come here to try to forget about that fear. Just drink it away. It never worked, though." He looked down at the device in his car, the one he'd become accustomed to using, and although he was glad it was there, that wasn't going to keep him from drinking. He was going to keep himself from drinking. "I wanna prove to myself that I can feel afraid and not feel like drowning my sorrows," he told her, hoping it made sense to her the way it did to him. There was going to be alcohol around him in life. No, it wouldn't be in his home or anything like that, but it'd be in bars and stores and restaurants. He couldn't avoid it forever. His friends would probably try not to drink in front of him, but other people would.
"Are you sure you're ready to go back in there?" she asked.
"Yeah." Despite all the things he still didn't know about what was going to happen in the future, he did know that he could handle this. He wouldn't have gone there today if he wasn't ready.
She thought about it for a moment, then said, "Okay."
"Okay," he echoed, glad to have her there with him. As much as this was about proving something to himself, he wanted to prove something to her, too.
They walked into the bar holding hands, and even though her hand was a lot smaller than his, it made him feel a lot stronger. He smelt the alcohol there, saw it stocked on the shelves behind the bar, saw people drinking it, and . . . yeah, he felt a pang in his stomach. Mentally and emotionally, he didn't want it, but on some level, physically, his body still reacted. That was okay, though. He hadn't expected to feel completely at ease.
"I'm good," he told Clarke.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Obviously having her there helped a lot, but now that he wasn't heading straight for the bar and was actually taking the time to look at some of the people who were there, he noticed that not all of them were drinking alcohol. Hell, there was a family over there in the corner both. On the other side of the room was a guy sitting alone eating a burger, and he had fucking pink lemonade. Maybe he was in recovery, too. Or maybe he just didn't like the taste of alcohol. Not everyone there was knocking them back. Of course, it also probably helped that it was a Sunday afternoon and not a Friday or Saturday night, but . . .
"Let's go sit down," he told Clarke, leading her to the counter. He wanted to sit in the same spot he'd planted himself that night. He wanted to put himself back there mentally just to see how differently he felt about all of it now.
Clarke actually seemed a bit more nervous than him as they took a seat at the bar, but she did relax a bit and smile as her one-time boss approached them. "Well, well, well, look who we have here," Diyoza said. "A former employee and . . ."
"A former drunk?" Bellamy filled in.
"Well, I was gonna go with a former patron."
"Yeah, former would be the key word," he said. "I'm not drinking anymore." It felt good to say that. He'd already decided that, if he ever found himself in situations where someone offered him a drink, he wasn't going to make up some excuse about why he couldn't have it. He'd tell them the truth that he was a recovering alcoholic and that he'd made a promise to himself and to his family to never drink again.
"Good for you. Knew you could beat it," Diyoza said. "I fired the girl who kept serving you by the way. Unacceptable."
Stacey? Carmen? What was her actual name again? Memories of those weeks were too foggy for him to recall. "I got no one to blame but myself," he said, remembering what he'd learned in rehab about not shifting the responsibility for his actions onto others.
"He's doing so much better now, though," Clarke piped up. "I'm really proud of him."
"You should be," Diyoza said. "Hey, I heard your football team had quite the season, too."
"Yeah. Lost on Friday, but still . . ." He shrugged. "We made it to the second round of playoffs. That's pretty good."
"Absolutely," Diyoza agreed.
"Tell her about our other good news," Clarke urged him.
"Other good news?" Diyoza arched a curious eyebrow and leaned over the counter as if she was trying to get a look at Clarke's stomach.
Clarke must have realized what that sounded like, because she clarified, "No, I'm not pregnant again. Not yet."
He smiled inwardly, liking the sound of that. Not yet. "Oh, uh, Avery said her first word yesterday," he told Diyoza. "And it was 'Da-da.'"
"Oh, of course it was," Diyoza said. "Where is the little squirt anyway?"
"With my mom," Clarke replied.
"Yeah, I didn't wanna bring her along for this," Bellamy said.
"For . . ." Diyoza looked at him curiously.
"This," he repeated. "Just . . . whatever this is."
Diyoza nodded slowly, as if she understood why he'd come by, then remarked, "Looks a lot like strength to me," before she headed off to wait on a customer. It was . . . a really nice thing to say, actually. Made Bellamy feel pretty decent about himself.
"Strong," Clarke said, squeezing his arm muscle. "So strong."
He laughed at her and shook his head. Physically, he'd always been strong. Mentally and emotionally . . . big work in progress. But it was nice to not feel weak anymore.
...
Clarke loved listening to Bellamy when he was bragging Avery up. He was so proud and also so cute when he was proud. They hadn't planned on spending much time at her mom's house when they'd gone to pick up Avery, but once they'd started talking about the first word milestone, it was inevitable that they'd all settle down in the living room for a while.
"Yeah, it was clear as day. Da-da," Bellamy said while her mom hung onto every word and Kane paced walked around with Avery, feeding her formula from a bottle. "She's got great enunciation, this kid. She's gonna give great speeches like I do."
"Well, that is so exciting," Clarke's mom said. "You know what you should do? Make a list of every new word you hear her say, until she starts saying so much that you can't even keep up. That kind of thing will be so fun to look back on someday." Her whole face lit up with inspiration, and she smiled excitedly at Clarke. "You know what, honey?" she said. "We should make a scrapbook."
"We?" Clarke echoed. She'd thought about doing that, but in her mind, it hadn't been a we thing.
"I always regretted not making one of those for you," her mom said. "But with your artistic ability and all the pictures I've had developed, we can make the most beautiful scrapbook ever."
Clarke could appreciate her mother's enthusiasm, and a little help would be nice. "Okay," she said. "As long as you understand that I have the final say on what everything looks like."
"Got it," her mom said.
Clarke already knew that she was going to have to remind her of this conversation, because knowing her mom, she'd try to push her opinion. She may have mellowed out somewhat this past year, but a tiger couldn't change its stripes.
"You know, we were actually thinking of doing a family photoshoot around Christmas," Bellamy said, "so those pictures would be good to put in there."
"Oh, definitely," Abby agreed. "Back when Clarke was little, we took some photos out on this nice man's farm . . ."
Clarke had heard the story about the picture day on the nice man's farm about a dozen times before, and it hadn't been interesting even the first time, so she was happy when her phone buzzed, giving her a reprieve. She was less happy when she saw that the text she'd just received was from Mr. Ubiquitous himself. Fucking Finn.
"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," she told Bellamy, feeling like she'd be better off reading that message alone and not in front of her mom.
Bracing herself for the worst, she slipped into the bathroom, turned on the light, and forced herself to open up that text. She'd been expecting a rant of some sort, maybe a whole paragraph long. But instead, all she got were four very vague words, one of which was misspelled, and another that that was actually just a number.
realy need 2 talk
She rolled her eyes. What the fuck did that mean? They'd talked yesterday, accomplished nothing. He was like an annoying mosquito at this point, just wouldn't leave her alone.
NOT INTERESTED she texted back, hoping the all caps would provide the emphasis she intended to convey.
...
Since she'd been dealing with the dull ache of boredom all day, Clarke called Raven while she was in the middle of grocery shopping. Raven answered on the third ring with a chipper, "Hola."
"Hey," Clarke said, steering her cart around a cramped corner. "You wanna hang out tonight?"
"Oh, I can't," Raven said. "Murphy and I are having my dad over for dinner."
"Oh." So much for that attempt at alleviating the boredom then.
"You're welcome to come, if you want," Raven offered.
"No, that's alright. I'll see if Harper has any plans. Otherwise I'll just . . . sit home and knit."
"And by knit do you mean masturbate?" her friend teased.
Although she'd just been using the expression . . . masturbation was probably gonna be the way to go. "Bye, Raven," she said, abruptly ending the call. She put her phone back down in her purse, grabbed a few more things she needed off the shelves, and headed up towards the checkout counter.
Since she was just at the small, kind of old-fashioned grocery store right there in the center of town, she wasn't surprised to hear a full-on friendly conversation as she approached the register. She heard the cashier asking, "Are you really heading off to college this year?" and probably wouldn't have paid much attention at all if the response hadn't been from a voice she was pretty sure she recognized.
"Unfortunately. In a couple more weeks. I gotta enjoy the freedom while I can."
Clarke stopped, still back too far in the household products aisle to even see who was talking. But that had to be Octavia. She pulled her cart closer to one side of the aisle and pretended to be all interested in looking at different types of detergent, even though all she was really doing was eavesdropping.
"Oh, I think it's great that you're going, though," the cashier said. "I'm sure your mother's proud."
"She is," Octavia said.
Good for you, Clarke thought. How crazy was it, though, that the little 7th grade girl she'd once met was now going to be a college freshman?
"How's your brother doing?" the cashier asked, and that immediately made Clarke even more alert to the conversation. "What's he been up to?"
Octavia grunted. "Who knows? He's off in Europe now."
Europe? Clarke thought. God, he was even farther away than she'd thought.
"Across the pond, huh?" the cashier said. "Which country?"
"I can't even remember," Octavia said. "Probably whichever one has the most beautiful women."
"Oh, so he's . . . enjoying his twenties then," the cashier said.
"Yeah, that's one way to put it."
Clarke felt her heart sink a bit, even though it wasn't a surprise. Bellamy was the type of guy who would be considered hot in every country and every culture by practically every woman. He probably had a whole harem around him every single night.
"Well, tell him to come back home sometime," the cashier said. "I'm sure a lot of people would love to see him."
Like me, Clarke thought sadly. At this point, even after all these years, even after . . . She would've loved to see him.
Octavia's response was another punch in the gut. "Yeah, I don't think he's coming back home anytime soon," she said. "But I'll tell him you said hi."
"Alright. Bye now."
"Bye."
Clarke just stood there as other people walked past her, feeling . . . so down. Sometimes she still dreamt about him coming back. She used to have those dreams all the time, but every year that he'd stayed gone, the dreams started becoming less and less frequent. She hadn't dreamt that in a long time now, and overhearing something like this just proved that she was right to be more realistic.
Since the boredom had transformed into feeling sorry for herself, Clarke decided not to burden Harper with the task of spending time with her that night. Instead, she went out on her own, figuring she might as well take advantage of being twenty-one. She wasn't a big drinker by any means, but when people in movies got upset, they usually went to the bar and somehow left feeling better. She wasn't sure if that was how it would play out for her, but she figured she'd might as well try. So she plopped herself down on one of the stools at Eligius, deciding that this was not the night she was going to ask for an application. Instead, she was just going to ask for a beer.
The new owner, a woman who went by Diyoza and had always struck Clarke as kind of cool, monitored her pretty closely, at one point asking, "Is that still your first one?"
"Second," Clarke lied. Actually, it was her third, but it was just beer, nothing hardcore. She knew her limits and was smart enough to stop at a pleasant buzz. She'd still be able to drive home safely, and she wouldn't feel sick in the morning. All that responsible stuff.
"Good," Diyoza said. "What's on your mind, Clarke? You can tell me. All bartenders are half-therapist."
She wasn't really too keen on the idea of therapy, but the unofficial kind like this would probably be okay. "Do you ever just feel like . . . like you're stuck?" she asked. "Can't go backward, can't go forward. Because I've felt like that for the past five years."
"Hmm," Dioyza said. "Why do you think that is?"
She knew why that was, but she wasn't about to say it. "Doesn't matter."
"Well, clearly it does," Diyoza pushed. "Otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here."
Clarke sort of regretted saying anything now. This was gonna ruin her buzz if they kept going. "Never mind," she dismissed. "I don't wanna talk about it."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Thanks, though." She waited until Diyoza had moseyed on down the bar to take a big swig, the kind that made her scrunch up her face afterward, because it didn't even taste that good.
"Don't wanna talk about what?" a familiar voice asked as it came up behind her.
"Ugh, not now, Finn," she groaned, rolling her eyes.
He completely disregarded her disinterest and sat down beside her. "Wow, I barely said two words, and already I've upset you. That's gotta be a new record."
It wasn't. He'd upset her without saying anything plenty of times. "Alright, let's just get this over with," she said. "What do you wanna say to me? Do you wanna call me a bitch again, or just insinuate that no one will ever love me?"
Somewhat to her surprise, he didn't do either one. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean that. I was pissed. So were you. You criticized my sex skills, remember?"
"Well . . ." She shrugged, not sorry about that. "You've got some things to learn."
"Like what?"
"Like hygiene," she replied. "You gotta keep things trimmed up down there, especially if you've got a woman who's doing the same thing for you."
"Fine, a little man-scaping," he said. "What else?"
Did he really want a list? Because she could probably give him one. "Foreplay. It matters," she told him. "How many times did we just cut straight to the chase without even building up to it first? Sex is a marathon, not a sprint."
"Not always." He smirked.
"Okay, not always, but it should be sometimes." It wasn't like he'd never gotten her off or anything, but his attempts at long, drawn-out sex had been pathetic. "Oh, and here's another thing: Don't call a girl a bitch when you're screwing her. Unless she wants you to."
"You didn't want me to?"
"No!" How had he never realized that? "See, this was our problem. We never communicated."
"Ah, it wasn't all bad, though," he reminded her. "Admit it: You miss me."
She gave him a look and almost laughed. "No. I miss someone, Finn, but not you."
"So harsh," he said, holding his hand to his heart exaggeratedly, as if she'd just wounded him with those words. "Well, we're probably better off this way."
"For sure," she agreed. "We don't work as a couple."
"No, we don't. Although . . ." He trailed off.
Even though she didn't want to know, she did still kind of want to know what he was going to say. "What?"
He waited a moment, then blurted, "I do miss you sometimes."
"Oh, don't even," she said. "I know what this is. You're out and about tonight, on the prowl, hunting down your next hook-up. And you come in here and see tipsy Clarke, and you think to yourself, 'Hey, maybe we could have one last roll in the hay.' Am I right?"
He chuckled and admitted, "You're not wrong."
"Well, I'm not doing that again," she decided. "Not with you. Maybe not with anyone. It never seems to end well." Screw her senior year of college. She could just go off to a convent at this point, become a nun, focus all her attention on the holy spirit instead of her holy trinity of failed relationships.
"Okay then," Finn said. He didn't sound like he was going to push her on it.
"I'm not doing it again," she repeated, more to herself this time. Even as she said the words, though, she felt the hands of temptation tugging at her. Maybe she'd had one too many beers, but Finn didn't look half bad tonight, and she did feel kind of horny. Maybe some no-strings-attached sex was just what she needed to keep her mind off of . . . other things.
Against her own better judgment, she found herself rolling around in her bed with him that night, three beers buzzed on her end and probably a little high on his. He shoved his tongue into her mouth, then did something that he'd hardly ever done before, which was to play with her tits after he took her shirt off. Usually, he'd gone straight down to her pants.
"How's this foreplay for you?" he asked, squeezing her nipple in between his fingers.
"Yeah, it's fine," she said, sliding her own jeans and thong down over her hips. "Just . . . take your pants off."
"What?" he said. "What about it being a marathon, not a sprint?"
"No, this time's a sprint," she told him. "Come on, let's just do it." She was impatient. She wanted to get fucked and then get him to go home. Simple.
"Works for me," he said, quickly undoing his jeans. He shoved them down just far enough to plunge into her, and she gasped when he started thrusting right away. Of course he hadn't even stopped to put on a condom, but . . . oh, well. He could pull out. This was just a quick, one-time thing anyway. It wouldn't amount to anything.
...
When Clarke finally came out of the bathroom, her mom and Kane were in the kitchen, and Bellamy was holding Avery on his lap again, talking to her. She hated to interrupt, especially in case Avery was saying Da-da again, but she had to show him what was on her phone.
"What's this?" he asked, taking it from her so he could get a better look at the screen. He sank down into the couch a bit when he read the text and sighed. Then he came right out and asked, "Should we just go home and have more sex? I don't wanna think about all this."
"Mmm," she moaned, eager to shut her phone off while they did that. "You read my mind."
...
Although that text Finn had sent to Clarke sent a lot of nerves into Bellamy's stomach, it didn't send him spiraling. It didn't give him a panic attack. It didn't make him want to go drink. And that'd been the goal of the day, hadn't it? To prove that he could handle being afraid about what was gonna happen.
"I don't know about you," Clarke said as he drove down their street, "but I'm thinking doggy style."
"Oh, yeah, that's my favorite." If anything could make him forget about everything else going on, it was his wife in that position. Any position, actually.
"Yeah, let's do it that way then," she said. "I'm just kinda in the mood for something a little more-"
"Oh, no," he cut her off when he saw a car outside their house.
"What?" She looked out the window and groaned, "No."
Bellamy pulled into his usual spot and turned off the car. Apparently since Clarke hadn't responded to his text the way he'd wanted, Finn had decided it was fine to just show up there.
"Let's just walk inside and ignore him," Clarke decided. "If he doesn't go away, we'll call the cops."
"Sounds good to me." He actually hoped the guy wouldn't go away, because him getting arrested would help put them back on a more even playing field.
The second they got out of the car, Finn started talking. "I know you're not thrilled to see me here."
"That would be an understatement," Clarke said.
"I just got some stuff to say that I can't say in a text."
"Whatever, Finn," she mumbled, leaning into the backseat to grab Avery's baby bag while Bellamy lifted her out of her car seat. "No one cares."
"I'm pretty sure you will," Finn said. "Both of you."
"You got everything?" Bellamy asked her.
"Yeah." They both shut the doors and headed towards the house.
"Wait, Bellamy," Finn called. "I don't wanna talk to Clarke. I wanna talk to you."
He stopped with one foot on the steps, turned back around, and narrowed his eyes at Finn, trying to figure out what game he was playing, what torment he thought he'd cooked up. He and Finn didn't talk. They argued; they fought. No talking, though.
"I'm serious," Finn said.
Bellamy looked down at Clarke questioningly, and she said, "It's up to you."
He was torn. Part of him was screaming to go into that house, lock the door, and forget about all of this. But another part of him felt like, if he did that, he'd spend the rest of the day and night wondering what Finn had wanted to say, wondering if he should have sucked it up and heard him out. What if there was something he needed to hear, something that would impact his ability to adopt Avery?
"I got this," he told Clarke, handing Avery off to her. He wasn't going to freak out and lose his cool this time, wasn't going to give Finn any more ammo to work with. If he felt himself getting pissed off and worked up, he'd just head inside.
After Clarke shut the front door, Finn held his hands up in front of himself and said, "Don't hit me this time, alright? I know I probably deserved it for kissing your wife, but just hear me out."
Probably? Bellamy thought incredulously. He thought he probably deserved it for kissing Clarke? Dumbass.
"I've been doin' a lot of thinking lately about my life and . . . you know, everything," Finn said, taking a few hesitant steps closer. "My past, my future." Hanging his head, he mumbled, "I've made a lot of mistakes. And I know you can understand that."
This was definitely a different approach than Bellamy had expected. Trying to make comparisons, be relatable. As much as he hated to admit it, he did know plenty of things about mistakes. He just hadn't made the same ones Finn did.
"Believe it or not, I actually have grown up a lot this past year," Finn said. "The guy I was when Clarke dated me, the guy I was on the night we . . ." He trailed off, at least having the common sense to not say anything detailed. "I'm not that guy anymore," he claimed. "I have a steady job now. I even have a new girlfriend. She wants me to move to New York with her."
"Congratulations," Bellamy muttered. "I don't really care." If that girlfriend could convince him to move, though . . . beautiful thing.
"Well, you should," Finn insisted, "'cause, like I said . . . I've been thinking about my future." He said those words slowly, as though he expected that to communicate everything. But it didn't, so he had to elaborate. "I love Avery. I do."
Bellamy rolled his eyes.
"I know that might be hard for you to believe, but . . . she's a great kid. How could I not love her?" He looked away from Bellamy, just sort of staring off into space, and said, "If I could go back in time, I'd probably do things differently."
Even though he didn't want to have anything in common with Finn Collins . . . unfortunately, Bellamy could relate to that, too.
"I'd try to be there for Clarke while she was pregnant," Finn said. "I don't think she and I ever would've gotten back together, because . . . well, honestly, we were a train wreck. But maybe I could've carved out some place in Avery's life. I don't know." He shook his head regretfully and shrugged. "Guess I'll never know."
Bellamy's interest in what he was hearing started to increase. Finn didn't sound determined or persistent or anything he expected a father fighting for his rights would be. Everything Bellamy felt about the impending legal battle ahead . . . he didn't hear any of it in Finn's voice. Didn't see any of it in his body language. He looked . . . resigned. And if he'd just said that he would never know . . .
Don't get your hopes up, Bellamy told himself, but still . . . they were rising.
"I never had parents," Finn went on. "I know you didn't grow up with a dad, but I didn't have either one. No mom, no dad. And it sucked."
Bellamy didn't feel sorry for him, because he just couldn't. But he also couldn't imagine growing up without his mom, so . . . he understood how bad it must have been.
"I think I would've been a better person if maybe I'd just had someone, you know?" Finn said. "But it is what it is, right? That's life."
Yeah, it was. Lots of people got dealt crappy hands to play. Hell, for all he knew, something really bad had driven his dad to drink. And now he was gone.
Finn inhaled shakily and then let out a heavy sigh. "But I look at the life Avery's got goin'," he said, "and . . . it's good. She's happy. She's healthy. She's got a mom. And a dad." He swallowed hard. "It just isn't me."
What the hell? Bellamy thought as his hopes began to fucking soar. Either Finn was playing some sick joke on him, or he was actually serious. Either one had him hanging on to every word.
"It took me a while to accept it, but . . ." Finn trailed off and sniffed back tears that at least seemed genuine enough. "When we were out on that beach yesterday and she said what she said to you . . ."
He heard Avery's happy little voice again, squeaking out Da-da, and he knew Finn was probably hearing it like a record on repeat, too.
"I was already second-guessing some things, but that pretty much sealed the deal," Finn said. "I was standing right there . . . and she called you Dad."
Because that's what I am, Bellamy thought. Was this guy finally understanding that?
"There's no point in bringing it to trial. I know I'm not gonna win," Finn said dejectedly. "And to be honest, I shouldn't win. I'm not even sure I want to. All the things you gotta do when you're a dad . . . I'm not ready to do any of that. Not full-time."
"It's a twenty-four/seven job," Bellamy informed him. "Doesn't stop."
"Yeah," Finn said. "See, I'm not ready."
But I am, Bellamy thought, feeling like all the momentum in this ongoing saga was finally coming over to his side. I've been ready.
"Maybe I'll have a daughter someday, or a son," Finn said. "Maybe I'll get married. Maybe I'll have a nice house like this and a job I actually like. Who knows?" He looked at the beach house, smiled a bit wistfully, and said, "I kinda hope I do, though. It actually looks pretty great."
"It is," Bellamy confirmed. Sometimes, when he thought about how close he'd been to losing it all, he felt like the biggest idiot to ever walk the planet.
It was pure fucking music to Bellamy's ears when Finn revealed, "I'm gonna do whatever I have to do to sign over my rights. And all this stuff about your DUI . . . I'm not gonna take you to court and bring that up or anything. One of my foster dads used to get drunk and whale on me a lot, so I actually think it's pretty awesome that you're turnin' shit around."
Even though he didn't owe Finn Collins anything, Bellamy felt the need to assure him, "I'd never hurt Avery."
"I know you won't," Finn said. "You love her, too. More than I do. You're what she needs. You're what she deserves. I'm not at that level yet."
"No, you're not," Bellamy agreed. This level of self-awareness from a guy who had once had the balls to call himself a father was . . . shocking. But long-overdue.
"So just tell Clarke what I said here," Finn said. "It's over. I'm not gonna draw this out any further. I'm not gonna demand visitation. I'm just gonna move on with my life."
Bellamy wanted to tell him to move to New York, that that sounded like a good idea, but . . . he held back. It wasn't his business.
"And tell her I'm sorry," Finn added. "It's okay if she doesn't believe me, but . . . I actually am."
There were a lot of things for Finn to be sorry for, so Bellamy wasn't sure which one he was referencing. He would go ahead and tell Clarke, though. If she wanted to accept that apology, it was up to her.
Nodding, trying to remain calm even though he was doing backflips on the inside, Bellamy turned and stepped up onto the porch.
"Hey, Bellamy?" Finn said, getting him to turn back around. "Whenever I do become a real dad someday . . ." He hesitated, drawing it out for several long seconds before finishing up with a mumbled, "I'll try to be a good one like you."
Bellamy stared at him skeptically, not sure if he was just sucking up or being uncharacteristically nice for a change. Either way, for that one split second . . . he stopped hating him. For the sake of whatever child would someday be his, he hoped that Finn actually learned something from this, and that he actually would try to be a better man.
Neither one of them said goodbye to each other. Finn just turned and sulked back to his car, may as well have been carrying an invisible white flag of surrender with him, and Bellamy went inside. He leaned back against the door, completely shell-shocked, still trying to take in everything he'd just heard.
Clarke looked like she was a nervous wreck as she paced around the living room. "What was that all about?" she asked him.
Damn, he was glad he'd decided to stay out there and have that conversation. Fucking worth every second. "Clarke," he said, smiling slowly. "You're not gonna believe what I just heard."