Chapter Twenty-Four
Twenty-Four
Fin trailed behind Sweeney as she pushed the diner door open.
Once they’d returned to the hotel room, she’d told him to shower and change because she was taking him out for dessert.
Fin had protested because he wasn’t exactly hungry after the pizza and was too fried after the long day and the fact it was his father’s birthday had played on his mind all day.
But Sweeney had coaxed and cajoled and so here they were.
‘Hey.’ The woman behind the counter—called Dolly, according to her nametag—grinned at Sweeney. ‘You came back.’
‘I sure did,’ Sweeney replied, returning the grin, before she turned to him and said, ‘Why don’t you grab a booth? I’ll be right over.’
Doing as he was told, Fin settled into a window booth and took in the scene outside.
Sort of, anyway, staring but not really seeing, and only vaguely aware of the low murmured conversation happening at the till.
He roused himself when Sweeney slid in opposite.
She looked amazing in that sexy maxi dress she’d worn the night of their mothers’ birthday party, her hair twisted up into some fancy knot, her lips all glossy.
Fin felt decidedly underdressed in his jeans and t-shirt, his hair finger combed and still damp from the shower. ‘No menus?’
‘I ordered for us.’
She had a secret kinda smile on that shiny mouth and Fin gave himself a mental kick in the pants. She was making an effort here, so should he. ‘Hmm … bossy, I like it. Just as well I don’t have one of those fragile male egos.’
Sweeney laughed. ‘Even as a geeky teen who thought he was going to die a virgin, your ego was never fragile.’
Fin smiled at the truth of it. He guessed that’s what came from growing up in a loving household with amazing male role models who’d had a good sense of themselves and believed that real men knew that life was better in a solid, equitable partnership.
He had a lot to thank his father—and his grandfather—for.
‘It was a good day,’ Sweeney murmured.
‘It was.’ Fin nodded his agreement, pleased for a change in topic. ‘I think the fact that both teams got through to tomorrow’s rounds is more a comment on the general standard than any kind of amazing skill or prowess, but’—he grinned—‘I’ll take it.’
‘At least it’s a fair fight.’
He laughed. ‘True.’
‘Your dad would have been busting with pride today.’
Fin’s grin faded. ‘Yeah.’ He absently ran his palms along the clean Laminex surface of the table. ‘He would have.’
She slid her hand across and placed it over his nearest, giving it a squeeze, and their gazes held for several long beats before Fin squeezed back then disentangled their hands.
‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Every time I saw you today, you were snapping away. You must have taken hundreds of pictures.’
‘One thousand, three hundred and forty-three.’
Fin blinked. ‘Holy shit.’
‘Yup.’ She laughed. ‘Couldn’t have put it better myself. It’s going to take quite a bit to sort through.’
‘Anything special?’
‘A few. I sent about a dozen to Mai throughout the day so she could use them on the grid and stories straight away but I reckon most will get deleted.’
Dolly stopped beside their table, tray in hand. ‘I presume you’re the two sugars?’ she said, directing her enquiry to Fin.
‘I am. I keep trying to cut it out’—he patted his belly—‘but I just can’t seem to kick the habit.’
‘Pfft,’ Dolly said, so dismissively it ruffled the hair of her starched fringe. ‘If I had a belly like that, young man, I’d be eating sugar straight from the packet.’
She handed Fin his coffee and placed the other in front of Sweeney. ‘And here’s your hummingbird muffin.’
Fin blinked as Dolly placed the plate in the centre of the table, equidistant between them.
It was huge, its walnut-topped, cream-cheese icing forming a thick snowy cap, dripping down the sides as if it were a chimney on the rooftop of some wintery, fairy-tale town.
In the centre was a green candle, the flame tall and still in the climate-controlled diner.
Two long-handled teaspoons were placed on serviettes next to their elbows. ‘Enjoy,’ she said and departed.
Deeply touched, Fin cleared his throat as he lifted his gaze from the centre of the table. ‘Hummingbird, huh?’
She met his gaze with a shrug. ‘It was there when I came in this morning and I thought … it’s a sign.’
Fin glanced back at the frosted delight for long moments, mesmerised by the flame. ‘Dad always did like pineapple in his cake,’ he murmured eventually.
‘On his pizza too,’ she reminded him with a grin.
Fin laughed. ‘Oh god, don’t remind me.’ His father being the only one in favour of fruit on a savoury pizza had been a running joke in the Murphy family.
The memory was fun but man, it hurt, too. Fin’s smile slowly faded.
‘You know,’ Sweeney said, as if she knew he needed some space to feel all the feels, ‘maybe my favourite memory of your dad is that time we were all out at the lake and he and my father hired that tinnie to do a spot of fishing not far offshore and Michael caught that really big fish.’
Fin’s eyes sought hers as he nodded. ‘And he stood up to wrangle it and your dad stood up to help and he slipped and took out my father’s legs and they both fell overboard.’
The two families had watched the unfolding saga from the beach. Fin and Sweeney, both secure in their fathers’ abilities to swim, had thought it hysterical as their dads had gone ass over teakettle into the lake.
‘Yes.’ Sweeney grinned, her eyes bright. ‘And Michael refused to let go of the rod and still managed to reel the fish in once they got themselves back in the boat.’
Fin hooted out a laugh, the hurt lifting its grip around his heart.
‘It was like watching old Laurel and Hardy reruns.’ He shook his head at the comical turn of events all those years ago.
‘Mine’s that time when I was about ten and he came into my room and shut the door and looked at me like he’d rather be anywhere else and said’—Fin deepened his voice—‘your mother wants me to talk to you about pubic hair and masturbation.’
Sweeney laughed and Fin remembered how he’d recounted the story to her after it had happened and they had collapsed into horrified giggles at the embarrassment of it all.
‘I don’t know why because, thanks to her, I already had a stack of library books on puberty almost toppling right off my bedside table.
But I must have looked like I’d rather set fire to my hair because he patted me on the leg and said, don’t worry, I’m not going to do that but I’m going to pretend I did, so you better get reading those books in case she subjects you to one of her pop quizzes. ’
Laughing again, Sweeney shook her head. ‘Your mum loved a good pop quiz.’
‘I think Dad secretly did, too. Or at least he liked the way she’d launch them in those sneak attacks when you were least expecting them. He used to call her the pop quiz ninja.’
They smiled at each other and Fin felt good. They hadn’t done this—reminisced—since Michael had died. Sweeney hadn’t been at the funeral and he hadn’t seen her since so he was glad they were doing it now, on his dad’s birthday.
Placing one finger on the edge of the plate, Sweeney pushed it in his direction. ‘Blow it out.’
Obliging her, Fin leaned in a little and whispered, ‘Happy birthday, Dad,’ before snuffing out the flame with one tiny puff.
He watched as a thin plume of smoke rose in a straight line above the charcoaled wick. ‘Thank you for this,’ he murmured as he flicked his gaze to Sweeney. ‘It was very thoughtful.’
She just shrugged and picked up her spoon and said, ‘Let’s eat.’
*
Over the next hour, Sweeney traded more Michael memories with Fin.
His pensiveness had lifted and she was determined to keep it gone so when they finished the muffin, she ordered a brownie for them to share and a second cup of coffee each and kept up the reminiscing, moving on to more general childhood memories that had them both in hysterics.
‘Stop,’ Fin said on a pained kind of laugh, clutching his ribs. ‘My side’s aching. I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard for a long time.’
‘Apart from training sessions.’
‘Good point.’ He grinned then, reaching across for her hand, which he dragged to the halfway point of the table, his fingers absently playing over her knuckles. ‘Thank you. I needed this tonight. I needed to laugh. I needed the memories.’
‘Of course.’
‘I like that I can unburden myself to you and know that you understand because you’ve been through exactly the same thing.’
Unexpectedly, his words whammied Sweeney hard in the chest, a repudiation of them rising hot as bile in her throat and, without conscious thought, she extracted her hand from his.
They had both lost their fathers so she understood what he meant but she also rejected it. Their experiences were not the same.
‘Whoa.’ His brows drew together as he studied her face. ‘What just happened?’
Sweeney gave herself a mental shake, annoyed that she’d reacted so viscerally to his comment. ‘Nothing,’ she denied. This wasn’t about her tonight. ‘All good.’
Fin quirked an eyebrow, clearly not believing her assertion. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to … make you sad about your dad.’
‘You didn’t,’ Sweeney assured as she looked out the window across the car park at the traffic flashing by on the street.
‘But I did something,’ he pressed.
Sweeney was conscious of his gaze boring into her profile, hot and unflinching like a laser, and she doubted he’d be easily put off. Turning back from the window, their eyes met, his clouded again but with concern this time.
‘It’s not the same. What we went through. I don’t want to compare grief because that’s … fucked up but … you and I did not have exactly the same experience.’
‘Of course.’ He nodded. ‘I’m sorry. You were so young and I got to have my dad for so much longer than you and I was much more emotionally mature to handle the cosmic randomness of sudden death.’