Page 35 of The Neighborly Thing To Do
So Hugh’s comments the other night got to her, then. I want to break his face for that.
I don’t say anything for a moment, digesting all that’s behind that comment. I take so long that she starts to squirm, and my wing automatically tightens over her, like it has to stop her from escaping.
“Finn,” she whines.
“Shh. I’m thinking.”
“See, I knew it’d be an issue,” she mumbles, voice muffled by my chest.
“It’s not an issue, Cassidy. Let me think.” I don’t mean to snap, but I do, and she goes completely still. I sigh and rub a hand over her hip in what I hope is a soothing way. “You’re pretty fucking great,” I say slowly. “And kids like you would be a blessing. Do you want more kids, Cassidy?”
I feel like I’m doing a delicate dance. We’re on the deep-end of this relationship without having done any of the preliminary work, and I feel like I dove in without knowing how to swim. I’m going to figure it out, though.
“Someday, maybe? Not right now. I know I don’t have forever, but I need some time first. But… I won’t have them be like me, Finn.”
“Human?” I ask, trying to be gentle but aghast at the implication. How badly have we messed her up to make her despise her own species?
“Discarded,” she says simply, the one word cutting my heart.
I picture little Cassidy. I imagine she looked like Georgia at that age, all pigtails and cute chubby cheeks, with a scattering of freckles. I think of her mother having to explain why her dad isn’t around. Why she couldn’t live here anymore.
Honestly, it’s a miracle that Cassidy doesn’t hate all of us. And perfectly understandable that she’s worried for her future children.
“Cassidy, I’m sorry your father abandoned you.”
She’s silent for a moment. “I like to think it’s not because of me, not really. I was an inconvenient result of a one-night stand. My parents didn’t love each other. I like to think it’s because of that, not because of me turning out human.”
“If we did have a kid,” I say carefully, a wild thing to say that makes my heart beat a hundred times faster, “then I swear, baby, I’d love them. It doesn’t matter if they’re a gargoyle or a human or they get the shifter gene or somehow something else entirely. It doesn’t matter one bit. They’d belong here and in my heart as much as you do.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then mutters, “You’re a smooth-talker, Finn Delaney. You hide it well, but you are, underneath it all.”
No one has ever accused me of that in my life. Not even my own mother would say I’m good with words. But for Cassidy, it’s almost easy. It’s not a chore to say how I feel.
I kiss her forehead. “And I mean every damn word,” I promise her. I’ve never thought about kids before. I mean, I’ve thought about them in a hypothetical sense, but not in a real, might-have-one sense. But with Cassidy? Whenever she decides she’s ready, I’ll be more than happy to have a couple with her.
Human, shifter, or gargoyle, it doesn’t matter—I bet she’d be an amazing mom.
“What happens if the town meeting doesn’t go my way?” she asks quietly after a few minutes.
“Then we stage a protest and refuse to leave this house,” I say immediately. “Chain ourselves to the front door.”
She nudges my side. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
“Finn.”
“Cassidy. There is no future where you are not in this house. I won’t let it happen.”
Universe, please don’t make a liar out of me. Don’t make me break her trust so early into the rest of our lives.
“You don’t control the world,” she murmurs.
“I won’t let them take your home, wife.”
She sighs. “I wish I had your confidence.”
I kiss the top of her head. “I’ll be confident for both of us for the time being, then. It’s okay.”
