You Before Anyone Else (29 page)

Eddie

“Let me get this straight,” Jason says, leaning forward in his lawn chair to pick up the toy Mason just dropped. “This kid—this
baby
—is worth a few million?”

“You can't put a price on a child.” I grip Mason's fingers from his seat on my stomach. He shakes the hair off his forehead. It's even more unruly than mine. “Besides, he won't get any of that money until he's twenty-one.”

The world is an incredibly weird place. Because over the past few weeks, since he came back from college, Jason, my girlfriend's ex-boyfriend, and I have become pretty good friends. He's been a huge help with all the last-minute prep for the studio opening.

“But seriously, his parents are, like, average, middle-class people from Hartford. And they're gonna have a kid richer than them.”

“He's richer than me too.” Especially considering I'm broke as hell. But my name on Mason's birth certificate along with that paternity test earned him my grandmother's prize. “And they're from New York. Upstate. They just moved to Hartford six months ago.”

The Kingsleys won't admit it, but I think a big factor in them moving was to make my commute to visit Mason a lot shorter. And right now, they're on a three-day tour of our nation's capital. It's the first time they've ever left me with Mason for the weekend. First time they've ever left him overnight period. With anyone. It's a big step for them.

Mason grabs my nose and pinches it. “Bab.”

“Think he's saying Babe?” Jason asks.

“Maybe.” I lift him and walk over to the pool. “Are you saying Babe, Mason?”

“Bab.”

We sit on the edge, and I splash some water onto his legs. He squirms a little. It's too cold still. Barely June. Though the temperature won't stop Connor and Braden.

“Okay, no swimming for you.”

Mason has brown eyes like Caroline. They changed a few months ago. Sometimes, I see so much of her in him. At first, right after I signed the papers and before Caroline left for school, it was hard for me to talk to her, knowing I was lying about seeing our kid. But Fin told me that most likely, Caroline really wouldn't want to know—it's the type of lie that helps someone. And deep down, she would want me to see him if that's what I needed.

So I made peace with this big lie between us, I basically put it behind us, and now I have my friend back. Well, via Skype and phone anyway. She's still in London. With RJ. Becoming doctors or whatever.

And Finley…she's been even farther than London. For an entire month. It hasn't been easy.

I glance at my cell, checking the time. She's supposed to be home anytime now.

“Fin's going to be home soon, right?” Jason asks. “Think I should go?”

“She knows you're here. She'll want to see you.” I walk Mason around in the sunny part of the yard to warm up his legs. He gets that drunk, sleepy look, and soon, his head is resting on my chest.

The sliding doors on the back patio open, and I glance up, hoping its Fin. But Braden and Connor come running out, full speed, preparing to jump in the pool.

“Walk, guys,” I say but too softly to stop them. They plunge into the pool seconds later. Cold water. No problem. Connor and Braden see too much of me now to listen to everything I say. Sam got me a job at their afterschool program last fall; they run the camp the boys attend for the summer too. Soon, I'll be fighting off bullies for Connor as a camp counselor.

I cross over the spot in the yard where Fin and I made out last summer.

“How's she liking the dance company thing?” Jason asks me.

“It's a lot of work, but she loves it. You saw a show, right?”

“Yeah, in Austin.” He looks up from his book. “Great show. Fin was… I mean, she was…well, not Fin, but still her—” I laugh. I can't help it. He's weird about talking about her around me. “The last time I saw her dancing was with her mom.”

He must have been at the recital. There's now a huge photo of the two of them dancing that duet in the lobby of the studio.

I turn to face him, resting my hand on the baby's back to get him steady and sleeping. “What was that like? After…”

“Awful.” He sets his book down and releases a breath. “I was fifteen, so I didn't really know how to talk to Fin about it—not like I'd be much better now. There's nothing you can say. But the absolute hardest part for me was seeing Sam like…well, like he is now. You know he used to run marathons?”

“I didn't know that.” But he's a dictator in the gym. That I know. I've been thinking I need a replacement workout buddy for weeks.

“Fin's mom was a bit of a control freak.” Jason laughs and then seems to feel guilty about it, because he turns serious again. “She did everything, wouldn't let anyone even fold laundry because it wasn't the way she did, so you can imagine how things fell apart after she…”

He stops, unable to say the word out loud.

It occurs to me right then that Jason and I are on polar opposite sides of Fin's life. I don't know the version of Sam who ran marathons and carried his kids when they fell asleep somewhere that wasn't their bed or had a wife cooking and cleaning for him. And I definitely don't know the version of Fin who wasn't completely independent, taking care of herself and other people in the process. If she were still that Fin, if her mom were still alive, even if we had met somehow, I don't think our connection would have been the same.

I wonder if the things Jason loved most about Finley faded away after her mom died. And what I love most about her came to life after. It's weird how these things happen.

Sam wheels out to the backyard and heads straight for me and Mason. “Nothing more adorable than a sleeping baby. How are the Kingsleys handling their separation anxiety?”

I laugh. “Okay, I think. Only three texts in three hours.”

He gives a nod of approval. “Not bad at all. They trust you. That's why.”

They do trust me. Not just because I'm biologically Mason's father, but because I've worked hard to earn that trust. Everything I do with Mason is a hundred percent effort. If he were mine full-time, I don't think that kind of attention to detail would be possible.

Fin made fun of me a few weeks ago because I was making organic baby food while we Skyped. Considering the conditions Mason was conceived under, I have no desire to contribute to any more toxins being put into his body.

Inside the house, the front door opens. Sam sees it at the same time as me, because he immediately holds out his arms to take the baby. I hand over Mason, and I'm inside, across the living room, before Fin even has her suitcase in the door.

I stop several feet away from her. She's been in Copenhagen for the past week, so we haven't Skyped for that long due to Internet connection issues. Her hair is short now, shoulder length with purple streaks in it. I take in a breath. She's hot. Like rock star hot.

“Who are you?” I ask, leaning against the wall. “I'm waiting for my girlfriend. She should be home any minute.”

Finley drops the handle of her suitcase. It lands on the tile entryway with a clank. She turns to face me and stays rooted to her spot, giving me the same once-over I gave her. “And who is the guy with much bigger muscles? What are you doing in my house?”

Sam the gym Nazi. I've added nearly ten pounds of muscle in a month.

“That would be your dad's fault. He's been dropping hints about making me do those bar exercises—
Arrow
-style.” I reach for her hands and bring her closer until our noses are less than an inch apart. I run my fingers over her hair. “I missed this. A lot.”

“We added a new number to the show. It required purple hair,” Fin explains, and my heart is already picking up just having her in my personal space. “It'll wash out in a couple weeks. I think?”

I plant a kiss on her forehead, her cheek, her neck. Fin closes her eyes and sighs. “God, I missed you,” she says.

Me too. I do think it's even more difficult being the one still here, not out having adventures. Time moves a little bit more slowly for me than it does for her.

I trace a finger over her lips before kissing them. I'm about to pull away—reluctantly—to avoid an audience performance. But then Fin sets her hands on my face and doesn't let me move away. My tongue slips in her mouth, my hands wandering everywhere. My gaze flits in the direction of her room—my room, at the moment—and then back to her face.

I pry myself out of her hold and kiss her forehead. “Later.”

She glances out back for a split second, spots Mason, and squeals. Soon, I'm left standing on my own in the foyer. I take my time heading back to the patio and watch Finley steal Mason from her dad and cover him with kisses—Connor and Braden have decided they're too old for kisses from their sister, so Fin has moved on to my kid.

My kid.

It's still weird to think about. And it took me a while to let myself think of him that way again. A couple months after I'd been visiting Mason regularly, I sat down with the Kingsleys and made sure to tell them that I was okay with whatever role they wanted to pin on me when Mason got old enough to ask questions. They just looked at me, confused, and I had to say straight up, “He doesn't have to know I'm his dad. I won't ever tell him if that's what best for you. I think it probably is best.”

Jody just patted my hand and said, “Why wouldn't we tell him who you are?”

“Because I gave him up. I don't want him to think he wasn't important to me,” I'd said to them.

“He'll never think that,” Keith had said. “What other sacrifices could you have made for that child? You gave up everything to have your name listed on his birth certificate as his father.”

It's still so incredible knowing that Caroline picked this family. The most perfect family possible for Mason. She did exactly what she'd promised that awful day in the bathroom when we were both so lost.

After the onslaught of kisses, Mason wakes up, lifts his head, and looks around until he spots me stepping outside. His little arms stick out in my direction.

That's the thing…I don't feel like I lost. All I've done is gain some very important things.

Finley

I'm so glad that Eddie planned this “before” tour of the newly remodeled studio, because if I had to go through this with the crowd waiting in anticipation for the ribbon-cutting in an hour, I would have been humiliated. And without mascara.

I can't even see the rest, because I'm too caught up in the photo of me and Mom dancing the piece from
Coppélia
. It's so beautiful. Everything about this place is beautiful. It's like they changed it but without removing all the traces of what it was. We've got a ramp outside now and a wheelchair elevator to go down to the lower level. It's everything I could have hoped for and more.

Eddie hooks an arm around my waist and kisses my cheek. “Come on, let's see the studios downstairs. I wrote you a love song, and I'm gonna perform it for you.”

I laugh and wipe away the remaining tears from my face. “No love songs. I won't be able to take it.”

“So marriage proposals are out too?”

I groan. “You've been spending way too much time with my dad.”

Sophie, who was my mom's top student for years, brushes past me, and she looks almost as wrecked as I am. I give her a pat on the shoulder and a tissue from my pocket. I'd been around for a lot of the construction, but so much came together over the last month that it's really a transformation to me.

After I've seen the entire studio—and become dehydrated from all the tears shed—I clean off my face in the bathroom and then head outside where we've already got a big crowd gathered for the ribbon-cutting. As much as I'd love to believe they're all here to be the first to sign up for lessons or welcome an old business to the neighborhood again, I know the truth. Many of them are here to meet a movie star.

When an SUV with tinted windows pulls up in front of the building, I nearly cover my ears from the screams that erupt. Eddie and I are some of the few people who know where Toby Rhinehart's real house is, and it turns out he only lives about an hour away from us in Greenwich.

He's behind the wheel, and I about have a heart attack, thinking he might be stupid enough to drive here alone, but then Rocko, the bearded giant, steps out of the backseat first. Eddie's got Mason in his baby carrier, and they disappear into the crowd. Eddie's very worried about Mason ending up in photos, especially one of them together. He doesn't have any contact with his family, except Ruby on occasion, and he's happy with that. I imagine it's Caroline seeing him with Mason that worries him most.

Two more tinted SUVs pull up behind Toby's, and a whole team of security swarms the place. I can't believe he's doing this ribbon-cutting. He's insane. Not that I'm complaining, but still…

News cameras are everywhere, paparazzi, reporters shouting out questions. I smile when I see Gretchen and Bessy, Toby's daughters, who are eight and ten. Both are sporting ballerina buns and little girl versions of the tutu dresses Chanel designed that I'm wearing on a billboard in Soho. They look precious. Toby insists that he's enrolling them in Belton Academy. Even though I know our instruction will be better than other dance schools, it might not be enough to make an hour-long drive just for ballet class.

I give my dad's hand a squeeze, and then I greet Toby's girls before ushering them over to my grandma, who's keeping an eye on them for a little while. Toby also prefers they not end up in any photos. His people have the media pretty well trained on who to include and who not to include. That is if they ever want an exclusive again.

Dad, Sophie, and I all say a few words to the crowd, and then Toby gets up there and gives an amazing speech about how he met me and how supportive he is of the arts and my efforts to promote healthy body image through the Chanel ballet line that shows models and dancers who are a healthy weight and taking good care of themselves, etc… He's good. Very good.

Finally, he cuts the ribbon—ballet pink with pointe shoes attached to each end—and I back away as the crowd rushes over to Toby's autograph table inside. He's signing Belton Academy gear. As in you buy gear, he signs it. His idea, not mine. I search the crowd for Eddie, and my gaze locks with his. I tear up again but get it under control quickly and instead mouth, “thank you.”

• • •

“So, kiddo,” my dad says, waving a hand to the dance studio in front of us, full of a select group of people invited to a post-ribbon-cutting party. “Is it everything you wanted?”

I smile at him. “Yeah and more, I think. Definitely more.”

Eddie's entertaining the room with some jazz piano improv. My dad bought him a top hat, and he's created this new identity under its spell. That's not entirely true. He works at a local piano bar a few nights a week and on weekends. He serves food and drinks and sometimes entertains the audience when the regular players are on break or call in sick.

On the other side of the room, my grandma is hovering over one of Toby's daughters while she holds Mason in her lap.

“Finley?”

I turn around and try not to look surprised by the presence of Eddie's sister. “Ruby, hi… I didn't realize you were coming tonight.”

“Last-minute decision.” She gives me a tight smile. “I hardly recognized you…the hair is…”

My face flushes. “Eddie's over there, at the piano.”

“Right.” She doesn't move. “How's he doing? I mean school and whatever?”

Eddie started classes at the local community college this past January. He finished up the semester a few weeks ago and did great. All As, I think. My dad talked him into getting a teaching degree. He always says it's the best fallback. When he couldn't get his wheelchair into his place of business, he was still able to get a job and pay the bills because of that teaching degree. Truth is, Eddie would make a fantastic teacher. He loves kids. I doubt it will be his plan B.

“He's doing well.” I glance at her. She looks nervous. “You should go say hi.”

Eddie's playing a high-energy tune, and my dad has joined him with a saxophone. I walk past Connor and Braden and say, “Did they talk you into playing tambourine or something?”

Ruby instead heads over to see Mason.

I take a seat beside Eddie on the piano bench. “I'm ready for that love song now.”

“Oh yeah?” He grins at me and immediately shifts to something slow and romantic. I watch as Toby's girls try to get Connor and Braden to waltz with them. Connor dives under the refreshment table, and Braden steps on one of their toes and then starts practicing karate moves, complete with cartwheels in the center of the room. Several of my dance company friends are here, and I love them to death—don't get me wrong—but they are incapable of leaving a dance floor empty.

“Did you see Ruby?” I ask, and Eddie gives me a smile. His smile says that he's glad she's here.

He ends his song and lets my dad take over with a saxophone solo. I lean against him and enjoy the view. “I'm looking forward to the future.”

“Me too,” Eddie says, whispering in my ear. “Later.”

I laugh. “I mean the future future. Like when I'm too old and injured to dance, and I get to come here and see this every day. Maybe have my own kids running around. My hot thirtysomething husband, playing the piano and doing important things with power drills.”

He tosses a leg over the bench and pulls me between his legs so we can both watch everything happening. “A thirtysomething husband? Anyone I know?”

I smile to myself. “Maybe.” Eddie rests his chin on my shoulder, and I look up at him. “Would you do that? Have more kids someday? Even with Mason—”

“No more than six,” he says immediately. God, my dad really has been a terrible influence. He turns serious again. “I think so. Of course, we're gonna have to deal with the trust fund from Grandma issue yet again.”

“You can raise kids to not be ruined by money,” I say. “Mason won't be affected by it. I know it. Not with you and the Kingsleys around.”

He kisses my shoulder. “Not with you around.”

My dad takes a break from saxophone, but Eddie doesn't return to playing piano, and everyone still continues dancing, even with no music. We sit there for a long time, watching.

My mind drifts to the fact that I'm only nineteen. And Eddie's only nineteen. And we've already risen above so much. Lord knows what else is in store for us. But I let that fleeting thought pass me by, because sometimes all there is left to do is savor these perfect moments.