Chapter 45
Whenever Bellamy stopped at Walmart to pick up groceries, he got sidetracked by stuff for the baby. Usually it was toys, but at this point, Avery had plenty of toys. He still felt like she could use some more books, though. Plus, baby books were kind of cool. The pages were thin boards instead of paper, and most of them were dedicated to sensory stuff. One book he picked up was all about animal sounds and claimed to make a new sound for every page turned. Bellamy opened it up to the 'C is for cow' page ad got a loud "Moo!" in response. A little too loud, so he put that book back and checked out another one, one devoted to different textures. There were bumps and ridges on some pages, smooth surfaces on others. And one page actually had a drawing of a teddy bear on it, but there was a cutout on the bear's stomach with actual real fur in it. He felt like Avery would like that. Hell, even he liked it, and he was a grown-ass man. Any book with a lot of pictures and not so many words was his kind of book.
...
Try as he might to look at the page in front of him and follow along as Monty read all about the Supreme Court's most pivotal decisions, Bellamy just couldn't help but look outside the big, glass windows that served as one wall of the library. They looked out upon the cafeteria and commons area, where the cheerleaders were practicing for their state routine. Every single one of them was wearing spandex and a sports bra, but Clarke's sports bra did little to conceal her huge, amazing . . .
"Bellamy," Monty said. "Bellamy! Are you even listening?"
He really wasn't, but he said, "Yeah," anyway and continued to watch the girls. Or . . . one girl, at least. They were doing . . . what were those things called again? Toe-touches? Jumping up in the air and hitting the splits, basically. It must not have been easy, because Clarke was fanning herself, and her cleavage was all shiny with sweat.
"What did I just read?" Monty asked him sternly.
Bellamy reluctantly tore his eyes away from his girlfriend and replied, "You read . . . this page."
"And what was it about?"
"Something." Hell if he knew, or cared.
"Focus," Monty told him. "You gotta get this done."
"Yeah, but . . ." He motioned out to Clarke and said, "Look at her." How was he supposed to focus when she was right out there looking the way she did and moving the way she moved? When they weren't practicing their jumps, they were going through their dance, and there was a lot of hip shaking in it that was driving Bellamy wild.
"She's got stuff to do, you've got stuff to do," Monty reminded him. "Now come on. Let's just do this. You wanna read it this time?"
Him? Read? Yeah, right. "No, you go ahead," he said. He pretended to be paying attention while Monty started in on the paragraph about Roe v. Wade—or maybe it was Brown v. the Board of Education—but inevitably, his eyes flittered towards that window again. Clarke must have sensed that he was watching her, because she looked that way and smiled at him. He smiled back at her, happy to draw her focus since she was always drawing his.
...
"Never thought I'd see you so absorbed in a book."
Bellamy looked over his shoulder when he heard a semi-familiar voice. "Hey, Roma," he said, closing the textures book. "How are you?"
She shrugged. "Been better, been worse."
That seemed to be the usual with her. He'd run into the girl who'd taken his virginity a few times since coming back to Arkadia, and whenever he did, she acted kind of annoyed with her life. And she usually complained about her son, like becoming a mom had ended her life or something.
"What about you?" she asked him.
"I'm good," he replied. "Just working, gettin' ready for the baby."
"How far along is Clarke now?"
"Uh, seven months."
"Wow," she said. "Are you freaking out yet?"
Freaking out? "No," he answered. If anything, he was getting more and more excited every day.
"Well, you will be once the baby's born," she warned him. "Is it actually yours, by the way?"
He was so caught off guard by that question that all he could respond with was, "What?"
"Is it yours or someone else's?" she said. "I've heard both."
He wasn't shocked that people were talking about it. People in Arkadia knew him, or at least knew of him given his football glory days. But what did it matter to them if Avery was actually his or not? And what made Roma, a mere acquaintance these days, think she had the right to ask? He answered anyway, with a vague but definite, "She's gonna be my daughter," and then quickly said, "Bye, Roma," as he pushed his grocery cart away. He kept the baby book in his hand. One more to add to the bookshelf he'd made.
After stopping at home to put all the food away, Bellamy headed over to Raven and Murphy's place. He and Clarke had agreed to have a movie night with them, sort of a double date without actually having to go anywhere. When he walked into the small apartment, Murphy was filming his girlfriend doing some cheerleading moves while Clarke sat on the couch and watched, but he swung the camera towards Bellamy and said, "Hey, look who it is."
"Murphy," Raven groaned. "I was just getting to the good part."
"Battery's about to die anyway," Murphy mumbled, setting his camera down on his desk. He hooked it up to charge it and told his girlfriend, "You can do some cheers for me later. In the uniform."
"In your dreams," Raven grunted, giving his shoulder a shove as he eased past her to take a seat in his favorite chair.
"Bellamy," Clarke said, looking back over her shoulder at him, "did you get my stuff?"
"Yep. Already in the freezer," he assured her as he kicked off his shoes. He made sure to conceal his surprise for her behind his back.
"What's the new craving now?" Raven asked.
"Popsicles. The grape kind," Clarke replied. "I swear, I can just spend all night sucking on those big purple . . ." She stopped short when she noticed the looks her friends were giving her. "This sentence is ending up in a different place than where it started."
Well, she could spend all night sucking on something else that was big, but Bellamy wasn't about to embarrass her. He walked up behind the couch, whipped out the small bouquet of flowers from behind his back, and held them out in front of her. "Here you go," he said.
Her face lit up with delight, and she said, "Babe, what're these for?"
"No reason. I just felt like getting you something."
"No, don't do that," Murphy groaned.
"Why not?" Bellamy said.
"Because whenever you're the perfect boyfriend, it makes me look bad in comparison."
"Sorry," Bellamy apologized, but as Clarke took the flowers from him, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Not sorry," and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. He had a very romantic side to him, and he sure as hell knew how to use it.
"Well, maybe you could learn or thing or two," Raven suggested to her boyfriend, sitting on the arm of his chair, "be inspired by him."
"Fine, I'll go get you some flowers," Murphy said, standing up.
"I don't want flowers."
He sat back down again. "Then what do you want?"
"That's what you're supposed to figure out."
Man, all we need is some popcorn, Bellamy thought, sitting down next to Clarke. He loved watching other couples argue. It was entertaining.
"What am I supposed to do? Read your mind?" Murphy spat.
"Yes."
"What?"
Bellamy laughed. "This is the series you should be filming," he told Murphy. "People would love to see this."
"Yeah, it's like a romantic comedy," Clarke agreed.
"What does that make us then?" he asked her. "A romantic drama?"
"We can be comedic, too," she said.
"I think we're hilarious."
Murphy got up, came towards Clarke, and said, "Give me one of those," as he snatched a yellow flower out of her multi-colored bouquet. He handed it to his girlfriend almost obediently and said, "Here, Raven. I love you."
"Gee, thanks," she said, but the corners of her mouth tugged upward, and she smelled the flower anyway. "Just find us a movie to watch," she told him, sliding into the chair with him. As Murphy grabbed the remote and started channel surfing, she shifted the conversation and said, "So Bellamy, Clarke was telling me you guys have Lamaze class tomorrow. Are you nervous?"
What was with people today asking if he was freaking out about stuff or feeling nervous? There was nothing to be nervous about. "No," he said.
"Really?" Raven sounded surprised.
"Yeah, why would I be?"
Clarke cut in and said, "Uh, because we don't know anything. We don't know what we're doing. We've never done this before."
"That's why we're goin' to the class," he said simply.
"Yeah, but . . . what if everyone catches onto stuff better than us and we're, like, the worst ones there?" she fretted.
He snorted. "Story of my life."
"Mine, too," Murphy added in.
"Don't worry, Clarke, you'll be fine," Raven assured her. "You'll get to do the 'hee, hee, hoo' breathing thing, and it'll be fun."
"Yeah," Clarke said. "Until it's time for the real thing." She cast a worried look at Bellamy, and he just put his arm around her and gave her shoulder a squeeze. There wasn't much else he could do when it came to childbirth other than be as supportive as she needed him to be.
...
Clarke raised her hand and didn't even wait to be called on before interrupting her instructor and asking, "What do you mean we're not doing 'hee, hee, hoo?' I thought that was what Lamaze is." She'd brought her yoga mat just to be able to lie down and practice that.
"Lamaze has changed a lot over the years, Clarke," Luna told her. "We're going to be exploring a lot of options for your labor and delivery." She continued talking, explaining the philosophy of Lamaze, as well as her own credentials, and the butterflies in Clarke's stomach flapped their wings a little bit more. Now she had no idea what they were even going to be doing.
Leaning over, she said quietly to Bellamy, "This isn't what I pictured."
"I know," he said, showing her some pictures of breastfeeding in one of the pamphlets they'd gotten on their way in. "It's so much better."
"Oh, stop," she said, whacking his arm gently. "Pay attention." He'd been looking at the breastfeeding stuff ever since they sat down, mostly because the pictures showed actual breasts. It wasn't just drawings in there.
"Sorry," he said, folding up the pamphlet. "I'm a bad student."
He may not have been a great one, but he was a pretty damn good partner to take a whole day off of work to come do this with her. There were four other men there, but there were also a couple of women who had attended with their own mothers, so . . . maybe they didn't have a boyfriend or a husband to do this with. That would have been her if Bellamy hadn't . . .
But Bellamy had. Of course he had.
After Luna gave them her credentials—she was a licensed midwife who had given birth to two kids of her own and loved helping pregnant women feel like goddesses during their delivery—they went around the room and introduced themselves. Most of the women were pregnant for the first time, but most of them were a few years older than Clarke. She didn't bother saying her age, not that there was anything wrong with having a baby at twenty-two. She just didn't want to be known as the youngest one there. When Bellamy introduced himself, one of the other moms recognized him and said, "You used to play football, right?" He just said, "Right," and left it at that.
Instruction began with a slides presentation about Lamaze's 6 Healthy Birth Practices, some of which were obvious, like the third one, which was to bring a loved one for continuous support, and others that surprised Clarke. She hadn't expected Lamaze to be such a strong advocate for alternative pushing positions. She'd pictured herself lying on her back today with her legs in the air, pretending to push and learning to breathe. But even though Luna did assure them there was nothing wrong with that position, she also had them get up and try out some others. Walking around was supposed to help labor progress, as gravity would be a natural aid. But if that got too tiring, she could hold onto Bellamy for support. They tried it out, sort of getting in a slow dance position with her arms around his shoulders and his around her back. Clarke liked that one because he could rub her back, and the closeness of it was so comforting. She found out she could also push while sitting, perhaps on a birthing ball, which was kind of fun because it was like a big, bouncy yoga ball, or maybe just while sitting in front of Bellamy in between his legs. He could rub her shoulders or her neck that way, and Luna made sure to let him and the other men practice. Apparently a partner's touch was one of the best forms of pain relief during labor.
Clarke's yoga mat did eventually come in handy, even though Luna had one for every participant, because they got down on the floor and tried out some unusual positions for pushing, like lying sideways or being on all fours. Clarke didn't like the all fours one; it felt too sexual. Throughout it all, Luna kept assuring them that there was no one right or wrong position. They might use a variety, whatever felt most comfortable at the time.
Towards the end of the class, they did get to practice breathing, but it wasn't the 'hee, hee, hoo' Clarke had expected. It involved a lot of heavy exhalations, and even some moaning. Which felt weird. But Luna assured them that making noise helped when coping with contractions, so Clarke was willing to try it. While reclining back against Bellamy, she pretended to push and let herself . . . moan. And groan. And make all sorts of sounds that sounded like the same sounds she'd made when actually creating the baby. She and Bellamy both laughed their way through that, but it was still good to get some reassurance that a noisy delivering was nothing to be ashamed of.
The class lasted several hours, and some of the moms looked tired at the end of it, but Clarke was interested to see how she'd done. So as Luna said, "Good job, everybody. Next week we'll work on newborn care," and other pairs started to leave, she tugged on Bellamy's hand and tried to get him to go to the front of the classroom with her.
"No, Clarke, it's fine," he said. "Let's just go."
"It'll just take a minute." She needed some feedback, so she dragged Bellamy forward with her and approached the instructor. "Hi, Luna," she said. "Thank you so much for everything today. It was all really educational."
"Thanks," Luna said, unplugging her computer from the projector, "I'm glad you got something out of it."
"Oh, definitely." She'd probably get a lot out of the next session, too, so she was really glad they'd come. "So I was just wondering," she said, "in your professional opinion, do Bellamy and I seem ready for labor and delivery?"
Luna gave them a confused look. "What do you mean?"
"Well, if you had to grade us, what would we get?"
Luna laughed a little. "This isn't the type of class where you get a grade, Clarke."
"She's used to straight A's," Bellamy informed her.
"Oh, I see." Luna smiled at them, then said, "You did very well. Both of you. Just remember, though, there's no right or wrong way to have a baby. It's all about just being as prepared as you can and letting your body do what's natural. And it is natural, having a baby. Remember that."
"Right." Women had been doing it for centuries, long before epidurals and hospitals and Lamaze class. "I'm just kinda nervous because . . . well, I've never done this before."
"It's normal to feel that way," Luna assured her. "But once your child comes into the world, half of him and half of you . . ." She motioned between Clarke and Bellamy. "You'll forget why you were ever nervous at all."
Half of him, Clarke thought, plastering on a smile. It wasn't Luna's fault. It was only natural to assume that Bellamy had been the one to get her pregnant.
"Good job today," Luna said before she resumed packing up her supplies.
"Thanks," Clarke said quietly. She looked over at Bellamy, who had the same look on his face that she did. The kind where he wasn't going to say anything, because he didn't want to be rude. But he'd heard it, too. Half of him.
Clarke sighed. It was just something they were going to have to deal with and learn to ignore.
...
Bellamy decided to let Clarke do most of the talking that night when they went over to her mom's for dinner. She was very chatty and very animated, following her mom around the kitchen while she cooked. Bellamy just sat at the table and waited for the food to be done, getting a kick out of the way she was rambling.
"The whole thing was really enlightening," she told her mom. "Like, I never even considered other positions before. I just figured I'd lie down, because that's what you see in every movie. But it makes sense to stand, I guess, to let gravity do its thing."
"We're gonna end up revising that birth plan, aren't we?" he predicted.
"Oh, yeah," she said. "But that's okay. A first draft is never the final draft. You always have to revise."
She sounded like every English teacher he'd ever had. "I never revised any papers I wrote," he recalled. "I'd just type something up and hand it in."
Clarke shook her head in mock disapproval.
"Probably explains why I failed so often," he said. "That and the dyslexia."
Abby glanced up from the stove, a look of surprise on her face. "You have dyslexia?"
"Yeah." She didn't know? Clarke had never told her? "I can read; I just can't read very well. But I'm gonna read to Avery. A lot. She's gonna be literary."
"He keeps buying all these books," Clarke said.
"Finally found something at my level." He laughed, but Clarke whimpered and looked sad. "It's a joke," he said. He had to make fun of himself once in a while.
"Books are good for babies," Kane piped up. He'd been relatively quiet, focused on slicing up the ham that would serve as their main course.
"So what else did you learn about today?" Abby inquired.
"Uh, well, we did some practice breathing stuff. That was weird," Clarke said. "And we learned about pain management techniques, too. I still don't wanna commit to a natural birth, but I think I wanna hold off on the drugs as long as possible. Luna made it sound like-" The doorbell rang, cutting her off.
"Oh, that's Callie," her mom said. "I'll get it." Taking off her oven mitt, she scurried towards the front door.
"Callie?" Clarke shot Kane an alarmed look. "She invited her to family dinner night?"
Kane shrugged helplessly and said, "She's your mother's best friend."
"She's a bitch!" Clarke hissed. She threw her hands in the air, turned to Bellamy, and said, "Okay, we have to get out of here."
"Right now?" His stomach growled in protest. "I'm kinda hungry."
"Bellamy, are you forgetting our last run-in with this woman?" she said. "I never apologized for telling her off. And I'm not going to. She deserved it. Now come on, we can just say I started feeling dizzy or something."
"Actually, I need you to stay," Kane told her. He finished up with the ham, then lowered his voice and said, "Tonight's . . . kind of a big night."
Bellamy and Clarke exchanged a curious look, and Clarke asked, "What do you mean?"
"I mean . . . it's a big night for me and your mother."
Oh, Bellamy thought, connecting the dots. Got it.
"You're proposing?" Clarke exclaimed.
"Shh!"
"Sorry." Voice now a whisper, she said, "You're really doing it?"
"Yes," Kane confirmed. "And I wanted you to be here for it. So please don't go."
"Oh, we won't," Clarke said. "We gotta see this."
How's he gonna do it? Bellamy wondered. Was he gonna pop the question right in front of all of them, or make it a one-on-one thing? Did Abby have any idea, or was it going to be a complete surprise to her? There were so many variables to consider when popping the question. Lately, he'd been considering them himself.
When Abby returned to the kitchen, she had her friend with her. Callie looked . . . pretty hot for a woman her age. But if Clarke ever asked him what he thought of her, Bellamy was prepared to lie and say she was heinous.
"Marcus, it's always good to see you," Callie said, giving him an air kiss on either cheek. "You look great." Her eyes flittered over to Bellamy, and she smiled at him like the cougar she was. "Oh, and look who we have here."
"Hi," he said, trying to find that balance between a friendly tone and a distant one. He had to please both Clarke and Abby here, had to be nice to Callie without being too nice to her. Not an easy task.
"Callie, you remember Bellamy," Abby said.
"Of course," she said. "How could I forget? Those arms . . ." She was actually ballsy enough to give one of his biceps a squeeze, which caused Clarke to bristle. When she finally spoke to Clarke, it was very tersely. "Hi, Clarke," she said. "You've gotten so big."
"Oh, really?" Clarke said, putting her hands on her own stomach. "I didn't notice."
Oh, this isn't gonna go well, Bellamy anticipated. It didn't take much to spark Clarke's short fuse these days. Just this morning, she'd gotten pissed at him for neglecting to change the batteries in the remote control last night. "Hey, Clarke, come with me for a minute," he said, getting to his feet. He put his hand on the small of her back and ushered her out of the kitchen and into the living room. "Let's, uh . . . let's go upstairs." If he just got her out of there for a minute, she could calm down and process the fact that Callie was there, and then she'd be fine. Probably.
Once they got upstairs to the privacy of her old bedroom and shut the door, Clarke threw her hands down at her sides and groaned in frustration. "God, she's so annoying, Bellamy. Did you hear her? 'You've gotten so big.' Well, you know what? Her . . . face is so big!"
"Her face?" Not exactly her best insult.
"I don't know why my mom is even friends with her."
"I know, I know," he said, rubbing her shoulders. "But she's gonna get engaged tonight. Let's just . . . be nice."
She grunted. "Easy for you to say. Your mood isn't constantly swinging on a pendulum."
"Okay, then how about this? If you need a break, we'll just come up here, and . . ." He grinned, lowering his hands to rest in the curve of her waist. "I can put you in a better mood."
Her anger and frustration seemed to dissolve the moment he started rubbing her sides and pulling her in closer. "Oh, really?" she said. "How are you gonna do that?"
Well . . . he had a few ideas.
Ten minutes later, after some brief but beautiful sexy time, they returned downstairs and made small-talk until dinner was ready. Once the food was served, the conversation mainly revolved around work. Not his work, and not Clarke's, but Abby's and Kane's. As far as he could tell, Callie didn't actually have a job. She just lived off the money she'd made in her last divorce. It wasn't particularly thrilling conversation, but at least it was drama-free.
"That was really good, Mom," Clarke said as she finished eating.
"Well, thank you, Clarke," her mom said. "It's so nice to see you in such a good mood tonight."
Clarke shot Bellamy a quick look, and they exchanged knowing smiles. Yeah, that good mood was the result of one specific thing.
"You want any more?" her mom offered, holding up the salad bowl, which was still half full.
"No, I gotta save room for dessert," Clarke said, patting her stomach.
"What about you, Bellamy?"
"No, thanks." He said. "Everything was . . . delicious." Beneath the table, he nudged Clarke's foot, and she nudged his right back. Delicious indeed.
Callie reinserted herself back into the conversation when she inquired, "So, Clarke, when's your baby shower?"
"Probably towards the end of March," Clarke replied.
"That'll be here before you know it," Callie said. "Do you need a party planner? I know several."
"No," Clarke said, "my friends are gonna plan it for me."
"Have they ever thrown a baby shower before?"
Clarke paused for a moment, and Bellamy could tell it was taking everything she had to not snap at the woman. "No, but they know me well," she said, "so they know what I'll like."
Bellamy knew he had to get her away from that table, because one more baby shower question from Callie could send her over the edge. "You wanna take a break?" he suggested.
She nodded gratefully and said, "Yeah."
Worked for him. These breaks were pretty fun.
Once again, they disappeared upstairs in her bedroom, this time for fifteen minutes. He didn't just go down on her this time. He took her pants off, laid her on the bed, and pulled her hips to the edge of the mattress so he could fuck her. It was really hard for both of them to stay quiet, but they managed.
He was kind of dizzy with pleasure when they left the bedroom and headed back downstairs. He probably had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, but he couldn't help it. He'd just gotten laid.
"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say I like Callie," he said as they descended the stairs.
"What?" Clarke spat. "Are you crazy?"
"She's good for our sex life." The more Callie agitated Clarke, the more breaks they needed to take. Which was fine by him.
Kane met the mat the bottom of the stairs and said, "Finally. What took you two so long?"
"Sorry," Clarke said sheepishly, "we were . . ."
"Exercising," Bellamy filled in. It wasn't really a lie.
"Right. These stretches that I learned in the class today," Clarke said. "Bellamy was helping me do them."
Also not a complete lie. There had been stretching. In a way.
"Well, now that you're down here, don't leave," Kane told them. "I'm gonna do it."
"Oh, okay, good luck," Clarke said, giving him a quick hug. "Not that you'll need it."
"Thanks." He took a deep breath, ventured into the kitchen again, where his wife-to-be was loading up the dishwasher, and said, "Abby, come here. Let's go outside for a minute."
She insisted on finishing up with the dishwasher, but he took her hand in his, said something quietly to her, and led her out the sliding door into the backyard. They had all sorts of outdoor lamps and lights that made it look pretty romantic back there. Plus, there was the reflection of the moon on the water of the pool and everything. It was a good spot to propose.
"What's going on?" Callie asked nosily.
"Exactly what it looks like," Clarke said as she and Bellamy ambled up to the sliding glass door to watch.
Bellamy studied Kane closely, taking mental notes on how to go about such a monumental moment. He must have had the ring in his pocket, but it wasn't in the box anymore. Without the outline of the box in his pocket, the element of surprise was still in the air. "He's very smooth," Bellamy remarked. "I wanna be smooth like that."
"You are," Clarke told him.
No, that wasn't what he meant. He wanted to be smooth when he proposed someday. To her.
All three of them continued to watch as Kane pulled out the ring at the same time he got down on one knee. Abby's hands flew upward to cover her mouth, and she started to cry.
"What do you think he's saying to her?" Clarke asked.
Bellamy looked at her, imagining what he would say, or at least what he might say. "He's probably telling her how he's never been so happy, and how she's the love of his life. And how he wants to be with her forever." He completely forgot about Kane and Abby and just gazed at her, noticing the excited twinkle in her eye. Maybe she was just really happy for her mom. Or maybe she was envisioning the same thing happening to herself someday soon.
"And there it is," she said.
Bellamy finally looked out back again, just in time to see Kane slide the ring onto Abby's shaking hand. They embraced each other and kissed more deeply than Bellamy had ever seen Abby kiss her former husband. In fact, he didn't ever recall seeing a whole lot of affection between them. What Abby had with Kane seemed to be a lot different.
"Well," Callie said, arms crossed over her chest. "Good for them." Her tone said it all: She was pissed Kane was now officially off the market.
Later that night, after they'd finally gotten home—dessert had been delayed on account of the engagement—Bellamy got straight into bed. Clarke must have been tired, too, but she called her dad and told him all about the . . . new development.
"Yeah, it was really nice," she said as she roamed around the room, getting dressed in her sleepwear. "Mom's super happy."
Bellamy shifted around in bed, struggling to keep his eyes open. He didn't want to rush Clarke's conversation with her dad, but it was already 11:00, and he had to be up early for work.
"I don't know. Probably before the end of the year," Clarke went on. "Knowing Mom, she's probably already planning. Or it could end up being way later if her plans are super extravagant."
Bellamy yawned, wondering if Clarke would mind if he nodded off right now. He usually liked to fall asleep with her, especially since she still had those bad dreams sometimes.
"What? Don't say that," Clarke said suddenly.
Don't say what? Bellamy wondered, his interest piquing enough to keep him awake.
"No. Look, I love Kane, and he already feels like my stepfather," Clarke went on. "But you don't have to worry, Dad. I'm always gonna be your daughter. No one's ever gonna replace you."
Was that really what they were talking about? Jake was worried Kane was going to take his place? Wouldn't happen.
"Alright, glad I could put your mind at ease," Clarke said, and it sounded like the conversation was winding down. "We'll talk more tomorrow. Okay. I love you, too. Bye." She ended the call, set her phone down on the nightstand, and said, "Well, he took that pretty well," as she got into bed.
He didn't say anything. Not because he was tired. But because he kept thinking about what she'd just said to Jake. No one's ever gonna replace you.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing." It was late, probably too late to talk about something so heavy.
"You're really quiet," she noted.
"I'm tired." She had to be tired, too, right? They could just both go to sleep.
She looked at him closely and said, "Something's wrong. What is it?"
"It's just . . ." Dammit, he didn't want to unpack his insecurities right now, but Clarke knew him so well. He couldn't hide the fact that something was bothering him. "Hearing you say what you just said to your dad . . . It just gets me thinking about me and Avery, and what it'll be like for us." Would she always be his daughter? Would she grow up to tell him that no one could ever replace him?
"You're her dad, Bellamy," Clarke reminded him softly.
"I know. But then there's her real dad . . ."
"You are her real dad."
It was nice to hear her say that, but they both knew what he was referring to. "Fine, her biological dad," he amended. "And it's not like he lives in another town or another state. He's right here in Arkadia. She'll run into him in the store someday; she'll walk past him on the street."
"Yeah, but . . . it won't even compare to what you have with her," she said. "He's not gonna be there for all the important moments, all the birthdays and holidays, or her first words or first steps. You don't need to worry."
He nodded, swallowing the small lump that had begun to form in his throat. Yeah, she was probably right. So far, he'd been there for the important stuff. The first ultrasound. The gender reveal. Feeling her kick. He wasn't gonna miss a thing. And Finn was. But the crazy part about it was that, even if Finn did miss things, even he missed everything . . . he'd always get to claim that he was Avery's father. No matter what.
"Is she gonna call him Dad?" he asked Clarke. "Or is that just gonna be for me?"
Clarke opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Her eyes got a little watery, and when she finally did answer, he had to give her credit for being honest. "I don't know," she said. "I guess that'll be a decision she has to make someday."
He let out a heavy sigh and nodded, knowing he'd just have to accept that fact. When Avery was old enough to decide what she wanted to call Finn, he had to be okay with it if she wanted to call him Dad, too. He couldn't make her feel guilty.
"Hey," Clarke said, placing her hand on his chest, right over his heart. "I love you. And Avery's gonna love you." She smiled, sliding her hand down his chest and over his stomach to take one of his hands in hers. "In fact," she said, guiding his hand to her stomach, "she already does."
He never got tired of it, feeling Avery kick. In a few more weeks, he'd be able to hold her in his arms, to kiss her cheek. He'd get to see her. They both would. "I love her, too," he said, gazing at Clarke's belly in awe. They had a little girl in there, a daughter. And maybe she wouldn't be part of him genetically or biologically. But she'd be part of him in every other way that mattered. She'd be the best part.
