Chapter 86
Bellamy shut the car door and looked at his reflection in the window, using it as a mirror as he readjusted his suit jacket. "How do I look?" he asked Clarke.
"Fine," she replied. "But you know, we're just meeting with the lawyer. You didn't have to dress up."
"I know," he said, "but I wanna make a good impression." Smoothing down his hair a bit, he decided that he looked professional enough and walked around to her side of the car.
"Well, you look very mature," she said, linking her arm with his.
"That's what I was goin' for." They made their way towards the front door of Kane and Abby's house, and with every step they took, Bellamy felt his stomach twist up even more. "You nervous?" he asked her.
"No," she said quickly. "This is a good thing. We're gonna start moving forward."
In the back of his mind, he knew that was all true, but the forefront of his mind wouldn't shut the hell up. "I'm nervous," he said, fighting the urge to bend over the front yard flower bed and just puke. He hadn't even eaten anything that morning, but he still felt like he could get sick any second.
"Don't be," she said, reaching down to grab his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. "It's gonna be fine."
As much as he appreciated all her efforts to calm him down, it just wasn't gonna work. He was going to be tense as fuck throughout the whole adoption process, and nothing would change that.
When they got inside, there were voices coming from the kitchen, so they headed straight that way. Kane and Abby were sitting at the table with a man who reminded Bellamy of Denzel Washington. Although he was probably bulkier than Denzel. The guy looked strong enough to crush stone—or Finn, whichever— with his bare hands. He was wearing a suit and tie, so Bellamy felt vindicated in his decision to dress up.
"There they are," Abby said, rising from her seat. She came over and gave Clarke a hug, then introduced them all. "Mr. Pike, this is my daughter Clarke and her husband Bellamy."
"Hi," Clarke said, waving politely.
"Hello, nice to meet you," the lawyer said, standing up. He immediately and confidently strode over to them to shake their hands. "I'm Charles Pike."
Bellamy gave him a firm handshake, trying to project equal confidence. "Thanks for meeting with us," he said.
"It's my pleasure."
Abby looked over their shoulders, as if she expected to see someone else, and questioned, "Where's Avery?"
"With my mom," Bellamy said. "We just wanted to be able to focus on . . . all of this." He hoped they weren't supposed to bring her. The lawyer didn't need to meet Avery, did he?
"Are you going somewhere after?" Kane asked, gesturing to Bellamy's outfit.
"Nope." He was well aware that he looked like he was going out to a fancy dinner or . . . fucking prom or something, but it didn't matter if he was overdressed. Better than showing up looking like a slob. "So, uh . . . how do we get started?" he asked, feeling like his stomach wasn't settling down in the slightest. Standing around making small-talk wasn't going to do him any good, so they needed to just dive right in.
Charles Pike asked a lot of questions, some of which Abby and Kane were present for. But Abby butted in a lot and tried to take charge of the conversation, which didn't surprise Bellamy in the slightest. Clarke finally put her foot down and said her mom needed to give them some space, and Kane helped by bringing her out back to sit in the lounge chairs by the pool for a while. Once it was just the two of them and their lawyer, Bellamy felt like he and Clarke were able to get more done. They gave Pike a comprehensive story about how they had ended up raising Avery together. He even sketched out a literal timeline to keep everything straight. They showed him some pictures and videos of Avery, too, probably more than he needed to see. But they wanted him to see her in her nursery, to see videos of them giving her a bath or playing with her or even just rocking her back to sleep at night. All things that Finn wouldn't be able to show his lawyer, if he was even getting one.
And of course there was a lot of discussion about what they wanted out of this. A full-on adoption. That was the only route they were willing to pursue. Nothing where Finn would retain any right to custody of any kind. He didn't deserve it, and Avery's life would be better off without him in it.
"So what do we even call this?" Bellamy asked Pike, wanting to have some kind of easy terminology so he could research things on his own if he wanted to. "A stepparent adoption?"
"Yes," Pike confirmed. "You're married, and you're looking to adopt your spouse's child. If you weren't legally married yet, it'd be a second parent adoption."
Bellamy nodded, feeling like stepparent just sounded better. He was officially Avery's stepdad now, so that made him feel more secure than just being Clarke's boyfriend. "Getting married . . . that's gotta make it more likely that this is gonna work out, right?" he asked, allowing himself to be hopeful.
"It doesn't hurt," Pike said.
"It's not like we just got married for this, though," Clarke added.
"No, we did it 'cause we wanted to." He reached over and put his hand on her leg, and she set her hand on top of his.
"Yeah," she agreed. "'cause we're in love."
"Yeah, we are." He smiled at her, totally fine with being cheesy in front of this guy.
"Trust me, that's very obvious," Pike said. "Alright, so we're gonna file a petition with the court. But before that, it'd be in everyone's best interest if we obtain consent from Avery's noncustodial biological parent. What did you say his name was again?"
"Finn," Clarke answered.
"Last name?"
"Collins."
Bellamy let Finn's title roll through his mind a few times. Noncustodial biological parent. The noncustodial part made him feel really good. But the biological part still concerned him, and the fact that Finn even got to be called a parent drove him up the wall.
"We need to terminate his parental rights before we can make any headway," Pike said as he jotted down the name.
Clarke nodded in agreement, but Bellamy just frowned, and she noticed it. "What?" she asked him.
"It's just . . ." He hesitated a moment, not sure he could fully explain why certain things about the legality of all of this made him so fucking angry. "I don't understand why he even has parental rights," he eventually grumbled. "He's not a parent."
"Bellamy . . ." Clarke said softly.
"No, I know what he means, but . . . it just pisses me off."
"I understand," Pike said. "That's a frustration I hear a lot. It's not always fair, but that's just the way it is."
Bellamy swallowed hard, knowing he would have to just accept that. Nothing was ever going to change who had contributed his genetics to making Avery who she was. And truth be told, he didn't even want that to change, because she was so perfect the way she was. He couldn't picture her any other way.
"Now I'm not gonna lie to you, stepparent adoptions can be . . . sensitive," Pike said. "When we're talking about terminating rights, that means Mr. Collins won't be able to make any medical decisions for his child, and she won't inherit from him or benefit from him financially."
Bellamy just snorted, almost laughing because . . . what financial benefit would Finn be able to provide?
"And of course there's an emotional component to it, too," Pike went on. "Sometimes that the biggest hurdle to overcome. Some biological parents struggle because they feel that, if they agree to this, it somehow shows a lack of love for the child, which isn't always the case."
"No, it just shows the love I have for her," Bellamy said, looking down at a picture of her on his phone, one he'd taken just for the hell of it because she always looked adorable when she was asleep. "I love her a lot."
Pike nodded and said, "I sense that. And I'm confident a judge will, too. But this is still a situation that needs to be handled with care. So tell me a little more about Finn's involvement with the child."
Grunting, Bellamy couldn't resist saying, "What involvement?"
Clarke was a little less snarky and explained, "It's been minimal to say the least. He's only seen her once since she's been born. But . . ." She hesitated, looked at Bellamy, and got quieter when she said, "He did try to come see her at the hospital after she was born."
Bellamy looked down at his lap, remembering that moment vividly.
"And?" Pike prompted.
"I didn't let him," Bellamy replied. It was what it was.
"Which was fine by me," Clarke made sure to add.
Pike jotted down a few notes on that, then asked, "What else?"
"Um, well . . . when I was pregnant, he never really did anything for me," Clarke said. "Bellamy went with me to all my appointments and Lamaze classes and things like that. He was even with me for the first ultrasound."
And that was a moment he remembered even more vividly, especially since they'd been worried she might have had a miscarriage. Looking back, even then, he'd felt an attachment to that baby. Part of him had probably sensed that he was going to be her dad.
"Did Finn ever offer to accompany you to any of these appointments?" Pike asked.
"No."
"What about child support?"
Clarke sighed and had to admit, "He did offer that. At one point."
Pike looked at her expectantly, obviously needing more information.
"I turned it down," she said. "Is that a problem?"
"Not necessarily," he said. "You have every right not to take his money. But . . . it does show that he was willing to contribute."
Bellamy shifted uncomfortably in his chair, not liking the sound of that one bit. "He wouldn't have contributed much," he mumbled.
"He's held onto his job for a while, though," Clarke said.
He shot her a sharp look, confused as to why she'd give him any sort of credit.
"I'm just saying, let's be honest, it's more job stability than either of us has had," she said.
"Well, I got a stable job now," he said. Thank God he wasn't still a janitor, because that wouldn't have helped his case at all.
"What do you do?" Pike asked him.
"I'm a coach."
Pike wrote that down, too, then inquired, "Do you work, Clarke?"
Now it was her turn to squirm around a bit as she struggled with her response. "Well, I'm kinda . . . I'm starting up a . . . it's gonna be like a self-employment thing. It's in its early stages," she said. "But we have financial support from my mom and Kane, too, if we need it. I mean . . . look at this house they live in."
"But we don't have to rely on them," Bellamy added. He didn't want it to seem like they couldn't make it on their own.
"No, not at all," Clarke agreed. "We can take care of ourselves. And our baby."
"Right," Bellamy said. But even as they were saying these things, he still found himself worried as fuck. Pike was getting them to discuss things that a judge would want to hear, and what if the things they said weren't good enough? "Can I ask you a question?" Bellamy blurted.
"Of course," Pike said.
It definitely wasn't a question he wanted to ask, wasn't one he even wanted to think about. But it was the obvious one, and he couldn't very well hold it in any longer. "What if Finn doesn't consent to all this?" His voice shook a bit as the words came out. "What if he refuses to give up his rights? Can he stop me from adopting Avery?" He held his breath as he waited for the answer.
"I won't lie to you," Pike said, his tone very serious, "he could certainly make things difficult."
What does that mean? Bellamy wondered. How difficult could things get?
"But even if he doesn't consent, it's still possible for a court to grant adoption," Pike went on. "I've seen it happen before when the father doesn't demonstrate the desire to assume full legal, financial, and parental responsibility for the child. As long as adoption is what's in the best interest of your daughter, which it clearly is, then I feel confident."
Bellamy nodded slowly, trying to soak up some of that confidence. He felt like he was going to need it. "So you've handled cases where he biological father hasn't agreed?" he asked.
"Yes."
"And it's gone well?"
Pike's two-second pause was a clear answer even before he actually responded. "Almost every single time."
"Almost?" Bellamy felt like his whole stomach just dropped to the floor. Things like that made it really hard to be as confident as he wanted to be.
"Bellamy," Clarke said, reaching over to give his hand another comforting squeeze. She'd been doing that a lot today. "I think we can trust him."
"You absolutely can," Pike affirmed. "I know what I'm doing."
Bellamy nodded, knowing that they were better off now than they had been when they'd first shown up. They had a lawyer, a good one, and no matter what, they had a stronger case than Finn did. He just wished Finn didn't have any case at all. "So what do we need to do?" he asked, motioning to himself and Clarke.
"Well . . . you need to talk to the biological father about all of this," Pike said.
"We kinda started," Clarke said. "We just told him this was something we wanted to do."
"And how'd he react?"
She frowned. "I'm not sure. But I think I should . . ." She looked over at Bellamy for a few seconds, then turned her whole body to face him. "Okay, don't take this the wrong way," she said softly, "but I think I should be the one to talk to him. Alone."
Alone? His whole body clenched.
"It's not that I don't want you there, but . . . I don't want you to get worked up," she said.
"I won't." He felt like she needed his support, needed him there to back her up in case there was something she forgot to say. But he also knew that he was worked up even right now, and they were just sitting here talking to a guy who was on their side. He couldn't guarantee that he could keep his composure with Finn, so as much as it killed him to have to swallow his pride, he did just that. "Okay." He had to put all his trust and faith in Clarke. She was his wife, after all.
"We got this," she said, trying to smile at him. But there were a few tears in her eyes that told a different story.
...
Clarke felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders as Bellamy drove her over to Finn's. It was the weight of their world, at least. They needed this to go well. Even though they'd entertained some worst case scenarios with their lawyer today, it was still quite possible that she could convince Finn to agree to this. It wasn't like he'd really wanted to be a father, after all, and she knew she could be persuasive.
...
Barely able to contain her excitement as she and Wells left the high school conference room, Clarke babbled, "I think that went really well. Like about as well as it could have gone. Don't you?"
"Oh, yeah," Wells agreed. He had their presentation board tucked under his arm. Perhaps it hadn't been necessary, but it certainly hadn't hurt to be extra prepared and have visuals and diagrams to go along with her slides presentation. They'd gotten lots of signatures for their petition, too, both the online one and hand-signed one. Surely the administrators had to do something, because people were having conversations about the issue of sexual harassment now. They couldn't just sweep it under the rug anymore.
"They seemed really receptive," Clarke said. "Lots of smiling, lots of nodding. That couldn't have just all been an act, right?"
"No, they're gonna use some of this," Wells said, sounding so sure. "The online anonymous reporting at least."
"Yeah, and that'd at least be a start." Once they got that up and running, they could do more. "I feel really encouraged." It'd been a hell of a long time since she'd felt this good about anything.
"Me, too," Wells said. "You did it, Clarke."
"No, we did it," she corrected. "I couldn't have done this without you. Thank you so much, Wells." She hugged him, so grateful and appreciative, because honestly, without him, she might have been too discouraged by the student council's response to press forward. But he'd believed in her and believed in this, and because of that, it felt like they were really going to get to do something positive for the school. Something that would have a much longer-lasting legacy than waving pom poms on the sideline would have.
Wells slowly began to release her from the hug, but right at the moment where his arms should have unwrapped from her, he pulled her back in closer and brought his lips down atop hers. It caught Clarke so off-guard that she couldn't even say or do anything. But he just barely kissed her before stepping back and apologizing. "Oh, crap. I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done that."
She couldn't even look at him, because . . . he'd just kissed her and . . . she hadn't been kissed by anyone since . . .
"God, with everything we were just talking about in there . . ." Wells looked like he was already mentally beating himself up. "I'm so sorry, Clarke. I should've asked for permission."
"It's okay," she assured him. He wasn't some predator. He was a good guy who had once had feelings for her, and who clearly still did.
"No, it's not," he said. "It's not okay. I can't believe I-"
"Wells," she cut in. "It's okay. I know we used to . . ." She didn't want to lead him on and give him the wrong idea, because even though they had really begun to reconnect as friends this year, it wasn't going to be anything more than that. "I'm just not really looking for a relationship right now," she said, trying to be as compassionate as possible. "With anyone. Things are just too . . ." She didn't want to talk about Bellamy and the feelings she still had for him, so she summed it up with, "I just can't."
Naturally, Wells looked disappointed to hear that, but he wasn't rude about it, which really spoke to his character. "I understand," he said.
"You're a really good guy, and any girl would be lucky to have you as a boyfriend, but . . ." She didn't want to drag this out and make it any more painful or embarrassing for him than it probably already was, so she said, "I'm sorry, I just . . ." and couldn't finish her sentence. The more it sank in that somebody other than Bellamy had just kissed her, the sadder she felt. So she had to get out of there.
Taking off, she ran for the nearest bathroom, needing to lock herself inside a stall and just cry. And that was exactly what she did. Any excitement she'd felt after meeting with the administrators was gone, replaced now by something that was hard to explain. She wasn't upset with Wells, but she still wished he hadn't kissed her. Because it felt like a final nail in the coffin that was her relationship with Bellamy. Sure, he'd been gone for a while, and she'd made a decision in his absence that pretty much guaranteed things would never be the same again. But this made it feel like things were really, truly, and completely over between them, like she was at that point now where other people thought she'd moved on. And she hadn't.
...
When Bellamy pulled the car to a stop, Clarke gripped the handle of her seatbelt tightly, reluctant to unclasp it. There loomed Finn's house, a place she'd had no intention of ever returning to after her last visit. Yet here she was. Because she had to be.
She and Bellamy sat in silence for a moment. The only sound she heard was the jangling of the keys as he turned off the ignition. She was pretty sure neither one of them was even breathing. Bellamy was obviously a nervous wreck, and she was trying not to become one.
"You sure?" he finally asked her, breaking the silence.
As much as she knew it was better to talk to Finn alone, part of her yearned to have him by her side. "Yeah," she said, unhooking her seatbelt. She reached for the door handle, and before pulling it, she quietly confessed, "Now I'm nervous." If things went badly, she wasn't sure what they would do next. And Bellamy would be devastated.
Worst case scenario, she reminded herself, trying to push her fears away and think optimistically instead. "It's gonna be okay," she said, more to herself this time than to him. "I just have to stay calm and try to be . . . compassionate. What else did Pike say?"
"Try to empathize with his perspective," Bellamy said, rolling his eyes.
"Right. I can do that." She empathized with people all the time. Didn't she? She liked to think she wasn't some horribly selfish person who couldn't understand why others felt the way they did, so . . . hopefully she could be empathetic to Finn. "Wish me luck?" she said shakily.
Bellamy leaned over and kissed her cheek, then stroked her hair and said, "Good luck."
Since she couldn't very well just sit out there much longer—Finn was expecting them, and for all she knew, he was looking out the window—she opened the door and got out.
"I'm right out here if you need anything," Bellamy reminded her.
"I know." She shut the door, not wanting to need anything. This was something she could do. Not only for her daughter, but for her husband. She could do this for them.
With each and every step, she got closer to that rickety front porch where she and Finn had last conversed. Except . . . the porch didn't look so rickety anymore. In fact, the whole house looked like it was in better condition, like it'd gotten a fresh coat of paint, and the lawn had been mowed. But maybe it was all just a façade. The inside was probably a completely different story.
When she got to the front door, she was set to knock when she noticed that there was actually a brand new doorbell. She rang it, and a few seconds later, she heard footsteps as Finn came downstairs. He pulled open the door and definitely didn't smile when he saw her.
"Hey," she said, trying her best to sound . . . pleasant. "Thanks for letting me stop by."
Finn looked out at the car and noted, "Bellamy's not coming in?"
"No, he's just gonna wait outside."
Opening the door wider, Finn said, "Must be torture for him."
It probably was. Clarke cast a quick glance back at her husband as she headed inside and noticed that he was staring straight out the front window, like he couldn't even bear to watch.
Upon setting foot in the living room, Clarke was immediately struck by how different the house looked. The outside definitely hadn't been a façade. Things were cleaner, more organized, and it didn't smell like pot anymore. It actually looked like Finn had been good about the upkeep up the place, and there was no evidence of his stoner roommates anymore.
Dammit, she thought. It wasn't like she wanted her ex-boyfriend's life to be bad or anything, but . . . she'd taken comfort in the fact that hers was so much . . . better. Couldn't he wait until after the adoption to start to turn his life around?
"So I'm sure you know why I'm here," she said, deciding to cut straight to the point.
He shut the front door and mumbled dejectedly, "Doesn't take a genius."
Maybe he just cleaned up when he found out I was coming over there, she pondered. Although he would have had to do that pretty quickly. "We met with an adoption lawyer," she told him bluntly. "We're ready to . . . make things official."
He stared at her, his expression unchanging, and swallowed hard.
"But I know that, no matter what, you're Avery's biological father," she said, trying to crank out the empathy right away. "You'll always be her biological father. Nothing's ever gonna change that. So I don't want you to feel like this is something we're doing behind your back or without you. We want you to be a part of this process, too. You deserve to be."
It took a few seconds, but finally, Finn . . . sort of smiled? Not the happy kind of smile, but the tense, angry kind. "Oh, is that what we want?" he snarled. "Come on, Clarke, you don't have to sugarcoat it. I know Bellamy hates my guts."
"No, he doesn't." Maybe he did, though. She wasn't sure how deeply the animosity ran, but . . . yeah, there was definitely no love lost. "There's just . . . there's tension between the two of you, for obvious reasons," she said. "But there doesn't need to be. I think we can all agree that we want what's best for Avery. Right?"
Finn didn't deny that, but he had his response locked and loaded. "What makes you so sure that what's best for her doesn't include me?"
Unlike him, she didn't have an answer ready. To her, it was just so obvious. Of course Bellamy was a better dad. Of course he loved her more. "It's not like I'm trying to just cut you out of her life," she insisted, trying to evade the question.
"Sure you are."
When he said stuff like that, it was really hard to empathize at all. "Well, be honest with me. Do you really wanna be there for her?" she challenged.
Finn didn't say anything to that one. He looked like he was thinking it over.
"It's okay if you don't. You're not obligated," she said, trying to give him a way out. "That's why I let you off the hook when I found out I was pregnant."
"No, you let me off the hook because you found out your boy was back in town," Finn argued. "And you wanted to get back together with him."
"No, that's not . . ." He was out of his mind if he thought that she'd ever considered using an unborn baby to win Bellamy back. "That's not what happened. I didn't know Bellamy and I were gonna get back together. I didn't know he was gonna be willing to step up like this."
"So he's stepping up," Finn said, crossing his arms angrily, "and I'm stepping down? Is that it? He gets to be the hero while I'm the deadbeat?"
"No. No, it's not like that at all." Even as she said the words, though, she wondered if it was. "It's not a competition, okay? Don't think of it like that." She could tell by the look on Finn's face, though, the seriousness in his eyes, that he was thinking of it like that. Maybe part of him did want to get to know Avery, but there was also a part of him that wanted this for himself. Nobody expected him to be a good dad, and he wanted to prove them wrong.
"Listen," she said, "I'm telling you right here, right now that I don't expect anything of you."
"Because I'm so worthless."
"I didn't say that." Now he was just putting words in her mouth, so before she could get too frustrated and lose a handle on the whole conversation, she took a steadying breath and tried the empathy thing again. "Okay, look . . . I feel like you're getting defensive here, and I understand why you might be; but there's no reason for that. I'm not holding anything against you, and neither will Avery. I promise. I'll make sure she grows up and knows that this wasn't a decision you took lightly."
"But will she even know me at all?" he wondered out loud. "How much are you gonna tell her about me? Will you ever show her pictures? Let her come visit me? Have you even thought about that?"
Truthfully . . . she hadn't. At least not extensively. When she thought of Avery's toddler years, her school years, junior high and high school and beyond . . . it was always Bellamy who was with her. Nobody else. "That would be . . . a decision she has to make," she answered carefully, not wanting to promise him anything she couldn't guarantee. "When she's older."
He shook his head sadly and said, "What if she doesn't even wanna know me?"
Then that's fine, Clarke thought, but she didn't dare say it. As far as she was concerned, though, it was better than fine. She hoped Avery grew up and didn't ask a whole lot of questions about her biological father. She hoped she wasn't one of those kids who needed to find him and get to know him. It'd just be easier.
"I wanna know her, Clarke," Finn said, sounding genuine. "I know I acted like a jerk at first, like I didn't care. But now that she's here and now that I've held her . . ."
Once, she thought, narrowing her eyes at him as she got an even greater, more foreboding sense of where this was all going. You held her once.
"I wanna see her again. I wanna hold her again," he said. "She's just as much a part of me as she is part of you."
That was only biology, though. It wasn't as important as the love Bellamy had for her. It didn't even come close. Feeling the need to start grasping at straws, she actually quoted Charles Pike when she stammered, "I can—I can empathize with your perspective . . ."
"No, you can't," Finn snapped. "You see her every day. She's yours. Nobody's trying to take her away from you. Nobody's trying to make someone else into her new mom."
Oh, shit, she thought, desperately searching for the words to say to get him to change his mind. It had to happen, and it had to happen quickly. Ditching empathy altogether, she decided to try a new tactic. "Okay, let's just be brutally honest then: Do you wanna provide for her?" she asked heatedly. "Like really provide? I'm talking medical expenses, a college savings fund, paying for her wedding someday, buying all her school supplies. Do you really want all that responsibility?"
Finn didn't say yes. And to her, that said a lot.
"Or—God forbid—what if something bad happens to her?" she went on. "She gets into an accident and can't walk or talk. Do you really wanna bear the burden of taking care of her for the rest of her life?" She hated using that word in connection with her daughter, because no matter what, a burden was something she'd never be. "Because I'm willing to do that," she said, "and Bellamy's willing. But I really don't think you are."
"Oh, you just know me so well, don't you?" he grumbled.
"Finn, you don't even know how to change a diaper!" He was kidding himself if he thought he was ready for all of this.
"Because you've hardly let me see her!" he yelled back. "How am I supposed to act like a dad when you don't even give me the chance?"
Although she opened her mouth to respond, the increase in volume must have worried Bellamy, because he opened the front door and walked in, asking, "Everything alright?"
Clarke could barely look at him, because she felt like such a failure. "We're just talking."
"No, we're arguing," Finn adamantly corrected.
Frustratedly, she threw her hands down at her sides. "Listen, I'm trying to include you, okay? Just like I tried to include you back when I first found out I was pregnant. I told you what was going on, and do you remember what you told me to do?"
"I didn't tell you to have an abortion. I just brought it up," he said. "But do you remember a few years earlier when you actually did that?"
Instantly, she felt like she'd been sucker-punched.
With no empathy whatsoever, he glared at her and said, "Or have you forgotten?"
The mere mention of her abortion rendered her speechless, but Bellamy wasn't having any of it. "Shut the fuck up, alright?" he shouted, positioning himself in front of Clarke. "That doesn't have anything to do with this."
"You're gonna come into my house and tell me to shut up?" Finn said, moving in closer.
Bellamy wasn't intimidated, though. "I'll shut you up myself if you come at her about that!" he roared, getting right up in Finn's face.
"Go ahead and try."
"No, just stop, okay?" Clarke pulled her husband back, because it really seemed like the tension between them was going to boil over, and she wasn't going to just stand there and let them beat each other up. "God!" She honestly felt upset with both of them in that moment, because they were just egging each other on, and it wasn't getting them anywhere. The whole conversation had gone from bad to worse, and since it probably wasn't going to get any better, she said, "Let's just leave, Bellamy." He didn't move, though, so she had to give his hand a tug and say it again. "Please, let's just leave."
He clearly didn't want to. He wanted to stay right there and be the tough guy, wanted to try to intimidate Finn into agreeing to all of this. But it wasn't a good approach to take, so she had to get him out of there before things got even worse. Luckily, when she headed for the door, he followed her, and when they walked outside, Finn slammed it behind them.
"That son of a bitch," Bellamy grumbled as he stormed towards the car.
"Why did you do that?" she asked him.
He stopped by the car, and just said, "What?" As if he didn't know what she was angry about.
"We were talking and . . . I told you not to come in there." They'd had a plan, one he'd agreed to, so he shouldn't have deviated from it.
"I thought you might need my help," he said.
"You didn't help; you just made things worse." She moved past him, opened up the passenger's side door, and plopped down in the seat. "The last thing I need is some macho pissing match between the two of you."
"Yeah, but he said-"
"Just get in the car. Please?" They didn't need to argue right out in front of Finn's house. No need to give him any more ammunition than he now already had.
Bellamy shook his head, clearly upset, and walked around to the other side of the car. He climbed in and wordlessly started it up, but he didn't pull away from the curb.
"I know what he said, and yeah, it hurt," she acknowledged. Thinking about that particular choice she'd made was never going to be easy. "But he wasn't wrong. I did have an abortion. That's on my track record. He'd be stupid not to use that against me."
The pain and anguish that gradually began to show on Bellamy's face . . . it broke her heart. Because even though he hadn't been the one to make the decision, it was never going to be easy for him, either. She'd caused him hurt that would never truly go away.
"You should've just let me handle, it, Bellamy," she said. "I might've been able to make some progress. That's gonna be a lot harder now. And you can't threaten him. Oh my god. That's the last thing we need."
Now that he was calming down, it seemed to be sinking in for Bellamy just how much he'd screwed up just now. If Finn was smart, he'd document all of this, along with every other aggressive thing Bellamy may have ever said to him. "I'm sorry," Bellamy apologized quietly.
Empathy wasn't hard where he was concerned. Even though she'd asked him why he'd barged in, she totally understood why he had. He loved her and Avery, and he was protective of his family. He wanted to be their knight in shining armor, but today, he hadn't been. "Can we just go home now?" she said, sniffing back tears. If she was going to start crying about how poorly that had gone, she didn't want Finn to be able to look out the window and see her.
