34. Face Mask
34
FACE MASK
Jules
I’m stretched out on my couch, the sea clay mask on my face finally cracking—which is, incidentally, one of life’s great unsung pleasures—and the newest episode of The Dating Games hitting peak emotions, when my phone buzzes with a text.
It’s Friday night so I expect Camden with an update on her date. Eager for the news, I grab the phone, pause the show on my laptop, then click open the messages.
But it’s not my bestie. It’s from Hank, my doorman.
There’s a delivery for you. If you’re home, I can bring it up. Or them, really.
Huh. That sounds intriguing, so I call him. “Hi, Hank. Who’s the delivery from?”
Hank clears his throat, then sighs, like he doesn’t want to be a pawn in a game. “Um…it says it’s from…Your piano teacher.”
Electricity jolts through me, chased by fireworks. Then, a healthy dose of oh shit . I’m in sleep shorts, a tank top, and I look like mud is caked to my face.
Because mud is caked to my face .
Is Finn downstairs with the delivery? No idea, but I can get ready fast. “Is someone there?”
“Nope.”
But he might be nearby, and no man needs to see my mud face. “Do you mind bringing it up? Or them.”
“Might take a few trips, but sure I can do it.”
A few trips? Did Finn bring me a palette of perfume? A dozen boxes of panties? “Okay,” I say, already breathless with anticipation. “And thank you, Hank.”
“Of course, Miss Marley.”
I scrub the sea clay off my face at a record clip, finishing just as footsteps sound outside my door.
I’m slathering on lotion so I don’t look rubbed raw, when I hear footsteps again .
Next comes a knocking as I’m tugging on a crop top and jeans. What did Finn send that takes multiple trips? And will my doorman hate me?
I don’t have time to find out since his footsteps fade just as I reach the door and unlock it.
When I swing open the door, I gasp.
My doorway is bursting with blooms. There are boxes full of arrangements. Vases bursting with flowers. My doorway is filled with peach roses, lush delphiniums, fluffy peonies, gorgeous tulips.
My nose is in heaven. My mind is overwhelmed. And my heart is thundering as I take it all in. Easily a dozen bouquets wait for me. Tucked in one of them is a simple white card with my name on it. I pick it up, opening the flap as my pulse skyrockets.
I tug out the card, my skin tingling.
Don’t let this be bad news. Don’t let this be something terrible.
I take a beat, then a calming breath, letting any terrible thoughts float away.
I open the card. I don’t move as I read it. I barely breathe.
Jules,
When we were in Paris in the Luxembourg Gardens, you closed your eyes, and I asked where you went. You told me that you went to a memory of my hotel room. You painted the scene from your imagination. It was vivid and vibrant and told me exactly where you were and who you are.
Now, back here in New York, when I catch the scent of honeysuckle outside my kitchen window, I picture you. I see you walking down the street, coming up my steps, dancing for me.
But then again, my thoughts always go to you.
When I go to the bookstore, I imagine you’re wandering among the shelves. When I’m in the diner, you’re joining me. When I turn the corner, you walk toward me.
Wherever I am, you are.
But I don’t want to be lost in a memory, or caught only in a dream. I want to be wrapped in the present with you, and planning a new future together. I’d take you to Monet’s Garden to tell you this, but instead, I’m bringing the garden to you.
Can I come up and see you?
xo,
Finn
I clutch the card to my chest for several long seconds, then sway. I grab onto the doorjamb, so I don’t fall under the weight of the swoon. I’m going to need a fan. I’m going to need to pinch myself.
I grab at my phone and try to slide it open, but I’m so excited I can’t unlock it at first. Once I get it open, though, I stop.
I know Finn.
He’s not far away.
I bet he’s…
As if drawn by an invisible force, I head to the window and stare down at the street.
My heart slams against my ribs when I see him on the sidewalk, pacing, gripping his phone like it’s a lifeline to me.
Waiting for me.
He’s so unbearably handsome in the summer twilight, the day drifting away, the night coasting in. In tight jeans and a fitted T-shirt, he’s the man showing up for me.
I fling open the window, giddy. “Yes!” I shout it without thinking.
He turns, following the sound of my voice, staring up, then smiling slowly, like his smile is filling him up.
“Come up,” I add excitedly, in case it wasn’t clear.
“I’m on my way,” he says, then bounds up the steps.
I call Hank, tell him to let my piano teacher in, then I rush to the door, gingerly passing the flowers so I don’t knock any over. I turn down the hall and head to the staircase.
Then, I run, barefoot, ready, eager. I yank open the door, right as Finn reaches the top of the steps.
My man. My love. The guy who was off-limits for the longest time, till I ripped down the barriers—the ones inside me.
“Hi,” I say, bursting with hope.
“Hi,” he says, then sweeps me up in his arms, lifting me in the air, bringing me close. “I miss you too much to stay away any longer. I miss you too much to be without you. I miss you too much to let another hour go by without telling you,” he says, as I wrap my legs around him, thrilled to be back here, with him. “Tell me it’s the same for you.”
He gazes at me with such vulnerability, such passion that I wish I could capture this moment and remember it forever. The moment he declared his heart. The moment when I’m ready to do the same. I sneak a hit of him. Fire, leather, orchids. My favorites. But soap too. He just showered.
Even his hair is damp.
I eat up all these details, recording them so they become my photo albums and I never forget how I feel right here, right now. “Yes. I miss you. I want you. I need you,” I say, then I swallow, taking a fortifying breath before I say three more words. “And?—”
But before I can speak, he says, “I love you.”
“You beat me to it,” I say, laughing, my whole body singing, my mind dancing.
“As a man should,” he says, then he sets me down and holds my face like he’s about to come in for a kiss, but he pauses.
Sweeps his gaze up and down me. Then finally brushes his lips to mine. I sigh happily against his mouth.
It feels like both a kiss and a declaration.
We’re choosing this. Choosing us. I know this in a bone-deep way. When he breaks the kiss, I take his hand and lead him out of the stairwell and down the hall, stopping at my open door.
“Want to see my place?”
“I bet it smells really good.”
“Like a dream that became real,” I say, unable to stop smiling.
His expression softens, his eyes gleaming as he cups my cheek. But before he hauls me in for another kiss, he lets go and gets to work.
“You brought the gardens to me,” I say as I pick up a vase and a box.
“And I always will.”
Another declaration, and it fills my whole soul.
A few minutes later, the flowers are in my tiny kitchen and we are too.
He takes my hands, threads his fingers through mine. “I want to be with you. In case that wasn’t clear,” he says, his green eyes sharp, intense.
“You can tell me again,” I say.
But his smile disappears. His expression is serious. “I missed you terribly. I fell in love with you in Paris, and I did a terrible job telling you. I wasn’t bold enough. Wasn’t clear enough. I don’t want to stop telling you now. I just love you, Jules, and all the reasons to resist this don’t matter anymore. I let them go. I’d do anything for you. Even if I lose your father’s friendship, I’ll take that chance,” he says, his tone somber, underscoring his meaning. “If you’ll have this guy who’s a little bit older, who has a kid, who’s divorced.”
He says it like those things would hold me back.
“I’m all in,” I say, voice feathery as I fight off happy tears. “I’ve been holding back for too long. Keeping my own secrets for too long. I haven’t been living. Then, you came into my life and I’m not afraid to be myself anymore. I’m not afraid to live every day of my life. And to love…deeply. I want that with you.” My eyes well with the emotions rising up in me.
Finn swipes a thumb along my eyelid, wiping away the start of a tear.
But it’s not a tear of sadness. I don’t feel sad anymore.
“Good. Let’s love deeply together.”
That’s our vow. One that says we’re worth the obstacles. That this love is worth the challenges. He’s here for me. And I’ll be there for him.
“There’s so much to talk about. So much to figure out. But right now, I want to show you how very, very good I will be to you,” he says in that bedroom rasp that makes me want to drop my panties.
Well, they are pretty soaked.
That’s just the way he likes it. Ten minutes later, his face is between my thighs, and he’s lapping me up, driving me wild, and making me grab the sheets on my bed.
Good thing I closed the window, or all of Chelsea would hear me scream his name as I writhe and thrash.
I’m panting, moaning, gasping as I pull him up and grab at his shirt. “Now. Get in me now.”
“Beg for it,” he says carelessly.
And I do.
I slide off the bed, get down on my knees, and gaze up at him, feeling like his .
He runs a hand over my hair, like he cherishes me. “Do it.”
He’s still dressed, and I clutch his hips tight as I say, “Please fuck me. I’m begging you. I want to feel your cock deep inside me. I want you to fuck me hard and good, like I’m the only one.”
“You are.” His gaze is feral, and in a heartbeat, he tugs me up. I make quick work of his clothes, stripping him eagerly, savoring having my hands on him once again.
He falls to the bed and pulls me on top of him. “Ride my cock. Ride me till you come again. Use me to get off. And I won’t stop till you’re drenched in orgasms.”
That’s my man.
He holds to his promise, fucking and loving, and wringing climax after climax out of me as I ride him, as he puts me on my hands and knees, then as he lifts my arms over my head, and pins me down, so he can slowly, exquisitely take me over the edge with him.
“Do you like dogs?”
I turn to my side and arch a brow Finn’s way. “Is this another trick question? Like Do you like pizza? ”
“Well, do you?” He runs a finger down my naked hip, a few minutes post-O.
“I like pizza, pineapple, pajamas, and dogs. Now, tell me why you’re asking such a ridiculous question.”
“I’m adopting a dog tomorrow. I mean, we are. Zach and me,” he says, and my god, he sounds so cute when he’s all new daddy. “I was going to text you a week ago and ask if you liked dogs. But I didn’t.” He dips his face, nuzzles my neck. “I just wanted to talk to you. But I wanted to know the answer too.”
“So you’re really asking if I like dogs?” Pretty sure he’s asking something else. I’ll wait, though, for him to say it.
He lifts his face, but he’s quiet, clearly thinking. After he takes a big breath, he asks, “Would you want to walk a dog with me? Come over if I have a dog? Spend time with the dog and me?”
And we’re getting warmer. I smile, and it feels serene but a little playful. I’m almost positive what he’s truly chipping away at. “Sure, Finn. You and a dog.”
He drags a hand through his hair, gearing up for the next thing. “And my son?”
Nerves lace his voice, and I laugh, then drop a kiss to his stubbly cheek to put him out of his misery. “Did you think I didn’t know you had a kid when I agreed to all that love stuff a few minutes ago?”
“A few minutes ago? Please. That was an hour ago. Clearly, you’ve lost track of time with all the orgasms I gave you.”
“Occupational hazard of being…” I stop on the word. But then I decide to own it. I’m the bold one, after all. “Your girlfriend.”
His smile is electric, thoroughly pleased with the title I gave myself. “Yes. It is. And yes, I know you’re aware I have a kid,” he says, as his eyes hold mine with a particular intensity, but with some trepidation too. “I want you to be a part of my life. Of our life. Do you want to?”
My heart melts a little more. I run my fingers along his cheek. “Oh Finn. I do. I don’t know much about kids. But I know you’re a package deal. And you being a father was never something that worried me.”
“Good. And yes, I want to go to the New York Public Library event with you. Zach and I would love to,” he says.
“I can’t wait,” I say, picturing it already. The three of us. I never imagined I’d want to hang out with a single father and his young son, but I never imagined a man like Finn—bossy, dirty, loving, giving.
I want all of him, and I want to know his son too. I just do. It’s that simple.
He leans over and kisses me quickly. “Are you hungry?”
“Is this a trick question?”
Thirty minutes later, we’re half-dressed and eating spicy noodles on my couch. Since I’ve grown tired of beating around the bush, I face the big issue head-on. “What should we do about my father?”
He sighs, setting down the chopsticks. “That’s the question. And honestly, I haven’t felt much inclination to run or bike or swim with him.”
“Because of what I told you in Giverny?” I ask, a little surprised at the rift. They seemed so close.
His eyes are hard. “Yes. Because even before you became mine, you felt like mine. I would never let anyone hurt you. Including your father.” There’s no question in his tone. He’s chosen.
I’m floored. I didn’t expect him to choose me. But he did. Maybe because of what I told him, or maybe because of how he feels for me. Either way, it’s a lot to absorb. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” he says, emphatic. “When we did our triathlon, I said something to him.”
I flinch. “You did?”
He sits up straighter. “I would never break your trust. I didn’t reveal what you told me. Instead I talked generally about regrets. About the things we say, and the things we don’t say. I couldn’t leave it untouched.”
I breathe deep in relief. “I talked to him, Finn. Last night.” I don’t reveal my father’s confidences either. Those aren’t mine to share. But I desperately want him to know that he doesn’t have to protect me here. “And…I think we’re going to be okay. I forgive him, and he wanted to be forgiven.”
Finn’s smile is soft and sad. “Maybe it was supposed to work out this way.”
Instantly, I know what he means. “You give him up? I get him back?”
Finn swallows roughly, while nodding. “Yes. Maybe this was always supposed to be our path. Our needs changed. I need you more than I need him. And you needed him back on your side.”
There’s a certain poetry to that. To the choices we’re both making. Neither one of us was ready to make this choice before Paris. Or even after Paris. But maybe the missing over these last few weeks was enough. For me though, it was facing the past so I could move into a future I choose.
“I did need him back,” I admit.
Will my father stay on my side after he learns I’m with Finn? I think so. I trust that my father’s love for me runs deep. We’ll weather it. We’ve survived something infinitely harder.
“What will we tell him? And how?” I ask, wanting to organize this talk like it’s a location shoot I’m coordinating.
Finn wraps an arm around me. “I’ll do whatever you need. You come first. Do you want me to tell him? Do you want to? Do you want to do it together?”
Those are good questions. “I think the answer is together.”
“Name the time,” he says, but then hedges. “But can we do it after we get Tiramisu?”
I blink, amused. “Is that the name of your dog?”
“And my favorite dessert,” he says, like he’s pleased with his dog-naming abilities.
I seriously fell in love with the best man. “Yes, we can do it after.”
“Oh, and Jules, I want you to come with us when we adopt him or her tomorrow.”
I say yes to that too.
A little later, Finn gets under the covers with me. Falling asleep with him feels peaceful. Waking up feels right.
We leave for breakfast, holding hands. When we hit the streets of Chelsea, all those happy, buzzy feelings vanish at the sight of my father walking toward us.