Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
Finn
Chloe hums softly from the family room as she picks out squares for the kittens’ blankets.
Plural because, according to her, they each need their own.
My laptop is open, my itinerary on the screen.
But, for some reason, I keep finding myself avoiding looking at it.
I need to check my inventory for the next craft fair? I should focus on that instead.
And I also need to confirm the details of my joining in on the next market at Bits & Bobs in Cedar Hollow.
And try out a new cocktail that requires five straight minutes of shaking to get the foam just right.
And Chloe needs help choosing between pink squares.
And dinner needs making.
And…
I sigh.
What am I doing?
I’ve been planning this trip forever, and it’s coming up now in just a matter of months.
Only instead of imagining myself hiking across the rolling green hills of Interlaken and sipping wine in Paris and walking through the cobblestone city center of Stockholm, I’m thinking about picking up Chloe from school.
And going to more Eagles games.
And sitting on the couch with popcorn and a cocktail and forcing Rhodes to watch another documentary.
I should be thinking about what I’m going to pack, booking last-minute excursions, planning out train routes.
I should be excited.
Instead, I feel weirdly hollow.
Because at some point…the fantasy changed.
Now when I imagine the trip, it isn’t just me alone on my adventures.
It’s Chloe holding my hand as we walk through the streets of Copenhagen.
It’s Rhodes smiling as Chloe and I pick out another trinket at a market in London.
It’s all three of us eating gelato on a street with the Swiss Alps in the background.
Dumb.
So freaking dumb.
And yet…there it is.
And it’s why I’m Googling family-friendly museums in London instead of cocktail bars when Rhodes walks into the kitchen, his hair damp and his cheeks flushed from practice.
Yum.
His gaze lands on me first and he smiles.
Then his eyes flick to the plans spread over the counter.
And his smile fades.
I should probably say something, tell him…
What exactly?
Come on my trip with me?
I almost do exactly that, the words bubble up in my throat, but then he moves into the other room. “Nice, pumpkin,” I hear him say.
“Thanks, Daddy,” she replies. “Finn helped me.”
“I’m sure she did,” he says as I close my computer, clear away my planner.
“How was practice?” I ask when he walks back into the kitchen.
He comes over to me, presses a light kiss to my lips. “Fine.” But then his gaze drifts back to my notebook and he lifts a brow.
“I was just…” I nibble at the inside of my mouth. “Going over everything, you know?”
He nods once. “Of course.”
I want to explain that I wasn’t exactly planning, not really. That it’s become more like daydreaming and not even in the same way I used to, and also maybe that he and Chloe can come too and—
He drops one hand on the counter beside my hip.
The other settles on my waist.
And he steps very, very close.
Suddenly, I can’t think at all. Not with him all around me. Not with his body pressed to mine. Not with desire making me ache and heat flooding my veins and—
Chloe in the other room.
“Rhodes,” I warn, jerking my chin in that direction.
“She’s busy.”
“But—”
I hear the intro music to her favorite show come on and freeze.
“See?” His eyes dance as he skims his mouth over mine. Another brush and I can’t help but melt against him, can’t help but part my lips, tangle my tongue with his.
“Hi,” he murmurs when he lets me breathe.
“Hi,” I whisper back, my pulse skittering through my veins, my limbs loose and heavy.
He rubs his nose against mine, smiles. “Missed you today, Stitch.”
Then he kisses me again.
Harder this time.
And whatever weirdness that hovered between us because of my trip is usurped by the feel of his hands and his mouth, and the way he crowds me back against the counter like he can’t stop touching me, kissing me, wanting me.
I clutch his shirt, drag him even closer.
He makes a low sound in his throat. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against my lips.
I do the opposite.
I kiss him harder.
His hand slides up my side, cups my breast.
I rock against him, my moan tumbling from my mouth to his.
The edge of the counter digs into my back and I don’t care because he’s lifting me up and I’m wrapping my legs around him and we’re kissing and touching and—
Crash.
My planner falls to the floor.
My laptop teeters.
He throws out a hand, shoving it back before it can fall.
But my notebook has exploded, sending papers in all directions—pictures and itineraries, lists of restaurants and excursions I want to take.
It’s all jumbled and in disarray.
Kind of like my thoughts.
I shouldn’t go.
But I can’t stay.
Because whatever I dreamed for myself before meeting Chloe and Rhodes has changed.
It’s different now and…
All of my dreams have them in it.
He looks at me—really looks.
His thumb brushes my cheekbone. “What are you thinking?”
Everything.
Nothing.
Far too freaking much.
I glance down at my planner, its contents scattered in every direction, then back up at him. “This isn’t what I planned.”
His expression shifts, just barely. “No?”
I shake my head slowly. “No.”
“Are you sorry?” His question is even, calm…but beneath that?
There’s something else.
Something raw.
Like my answer matters more than I think.
And that’s when I remember I’m not in this alone.
Heart squeezing, I touch his jaw. “Not even a little.”
He exhales and it’s shaky, and when he kisses me again, there’s something almost desperate in it.
Like he wants to believe me.
Like…he’s as scared as I am.
And maybe that should worry me.
Instead, it only makes me hold on tighter.
At least until Chloe’s show is over and we hear…
“Daddy, Olive’s climbing the curtains again!”