Contrary - Finn Shelby x Reader

THIRTY-FIVE

PUBLISHED: 07/07/2022
READER'S POV

Finn and I had already been to camp (after showering together, of course) to get breakfast and pick up Saoirse. Now we were in the living room, hanging up the paintings that Billy had given us for Christmas. He had given one to each of us, then one to all of us.

I had no doubt that Linda thought of the gift. She may have been a bitch, but she sure knew how to pick presents.

It was a good thing, too, because they made our walls look all the less bare. We didn't have many photos. Finn's parents weren't overly worried about taking photos of him, and we could rarely get near a camera to take photos of Saoirse, having to draw or paint her instead. In fact, the only photo Finn and I had together, as well as the only one all three of us had together, was ones from our wedding.

I frowned as I adjusted the painting on its hook and made sure it was level, then stepped back, going and curling up in my armchair.

"What's wrong, my love?" Finn asked from his spot on the floor next to Saoirse, practicing a song she taught him on the ukulele as she read a book.

"We don't have any family photos," I huffed, and Saoirse stopped reading to look at me.

Finn shrugged one shoulder, as if he couldn't care less, making me scowl. He cocked a brow and waved a hand, showing him to not worry about it.

"We should get some?" She suggested, although it sounded more like a question than a suggestion.

"We can book a photographer for our wedding anniversary," Finn added, eyes still on me as he studied me.

"I'd like that idea. But it's ages away though," I complained, throwing my arms up in annoyance as I shifted so I was dangling my legs over the side of the chair and my upper half was hanging over the other side of the armchair.

"It's in nine days, on the tenth," Finn pointed out as I listened to the fire crackle, and my eyes widened.

"Like fuck it is," I protested, rolling out of the chair, landing on my hands and knees with a 'thud' then standing up and marching over to the door leading to the hallway, making my way into the kitchen.

I headed towards the fridge, where we had a calendar hung up on it, and looked at the January page.

My eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Oh, fuck, it is."

"Told you," Finn replied as he came into the kitchen, making me roll my eyes.

I kept on looking at the calendar as Finn pottered around.

"Your birthday is on the third?" I asked, turning to face my husband, "How come you never said anything about it."

He paused, mouth open as the arm holding the cookie he was going to bite stopping in its tracks, and shrugged, then bit half of the cookie clean off.

I gave him a deadpan look, clearly not impressed with his response, and grabbed the pen from the top of the fridge, then wrote in my birthday, placing the pen on top of the fridge once more.

"Well, when's yours then?" He questioned, mouth still full of cookie.

"On the fourth," I answered, and walked over to the island to grab my own cookie out of the jar.

He swallowed the food in his mouth, looking at me in bewilderment, "Of January?"

"Of January," I confirmed, and took a bite, humming at the taste of it.

They were homemade, I made them yesterday before we started partying.

Finn's eyes kept on flickering to my bracelet as he nibbled on his second biscuit, and I nudged him with my foot.