Evie's Bombshell - By Amy Andrews Page 0,60
have. ‘Of course you mean more to me than that. I love you, Evie.’
Evie felt as if he’d struck her with the words, so obviously an afterthought. ‘Then why in hell do I get a ring pushed across the table accompanied by a This was remiss of me. If you loved me, really loved me, as a woman, not just as the mother of your child, then you would have told me that. That’s what men who love the women they propose to do. But you didn’t. And do you know why?’ she snarled, uncaring who might be overhearing their conversation, ‘Because it never occurred to you. Because it’s not the way you feel. Well, I’m sorry, Finn,’ she said, standing up, not able to bear the look of total bewilderment on his face. ‘I need more than that. I know that you had a terrible upbringing and you need a home and a family and you’ve got this whole fantasy going on around that, and I thought I could live with just that. But I can’t. I won’t.’
She sidestepped until she was out of the booth. ‘Do me a favour, give me an hour with Isaac before you come back.’
And she whirled out of the pub before the first tear fell.
Lexi was alarmed when Evie arrived back with puffy eyes and insisted she’d ring her babysitter to stay longer, but Evie sent her on her way, assuring her she was fine, just Finn being Finn on top of the worry and stress over Isaac.
By the time Finn arrived back she had herself under control and was determined to stay that way. He looked at her tentatively and despite how he kept breaking her heart, she felt sorry for him. Finn was a man who’d shut himself down emotionally to deal with a crappy life. Opening up like this couldn’t be easy for him.
‘Evie, can we please talk—?’
Her quick, sharp headshake cut him off. ‘Listen to me,’ she said, her voice low so the nurse wasn’t privy to their conversation. ‘I do not want to talk about what happened today until after Isaac is home and we know he’s safe and well. For the moment, for the foreseeable future, he is the only thing that’s important. The only thing that we talk about. The only thing we concentrate on. Just Isaac.’
In the time she’d had to herself, looking down at the precious little bundle that connected her to Finn, Evie had decided she wasn’t going to snivel about what had just happened. She’d drawn a line in the sand and that was her decision, and until Isaac was well enough to come home she wasn’t going to think, cry or argue about it again.
‘Can I have a commitment from you that you’ll do the same?’
Finn opened his mouth to protest but Evie was looking so fierce and sure, and after the bungled way he’d managed the whole ring thing he wasn’t keen to alienate her further. By his calculations, if everything went well Isaac would probably be discharged in a month or so once he hit a gestational age of around thirty-two weeks or a certain weight.
He could wait a month.
Live by her edict for another four weeks.
But after that she’d better prepare herself. Because he intended to propose properly and leave her in absolutely no doubt of how much he loved her.
He nodded. ‘Fine. But once Isaac is home, we will be revisiting this, Evie.’
Evie shivered at the steel in his tone and the flicker of blue flame in his eyes. ‘Fine.’
Four days passed. Four days of tag-teaming, polite condition updates and stilted conversation. Evie taking the days, Finn the nights. Four days where Isaac continued to grow stronger and put on weight and have most of his lines removed and Evie was finally allowed to have her first kangaroo cuddle with him.
As she sat in the low comfy chair beside the cot, a squirmy, squeaky Isaac held upright against her naked chest, both of them wrapped up tight in a warm blanket, Evie wished Finn was there. The nurse took a picture but it wasn’t quite the same thing. This was the kind of moment that parents should share, watching their tiny premmie baby snuffling and miraculously rooting around for a nipple, even finding it and trying to suckle, no matter how weakly.
She felt teary but determinedly pushed them away. She’d been strong and true to her promise not to dwell on it—stress and exhaustion helping—and she wouldn’t