Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
Finn
Chrissy’s house is loud.
Not in a bad way.
Just in a newly born to the world sort of way.
Mia isn’t technically a newborn anymore, but that doesn’t mean she’s gotten on board with the whole sleeping-through-the-night thing.
Or the whole letting-her-parents-eat thing.
Which is why I’m carrying this little sweetheart, walking her up and down the hallway, talking with her, showing her the kittens, Joan of Freaking Arc, Athena—all of whom she stares at and reaches for with an adorable baby grin.
Soft voices drift out from the kitchen as I make my way slowly in that direction.
Rome and Chrissy are sitting at the table, Rory and King beside them, along with Hudson—though my favorite Coach is busy with her job.
Fancy that.
“Come and sit down,” Rome says when I wander back in.
“Oh, I’m—”
But I don’t get a chance to finish that statement before he’s sweeping Mia out of my arms, and King’s shoving a plate in my hands, guiding me over to the table and into his seat.
“Let me see that baby,” he says, stealing Mia from her daddy.
Rome just smiles and shakes his head. “You know,” he says, coming back and sitting beside Chrissy. “Just one of these times I’d like to hold my own baby.”
“You can hold me instead,” Rory quips with a bold grin.
Rome just shakes his head, turning to Chrissy. “Maybe I should hold you?”
Their eyes connect and they share a look, a smile that’s so beautiful I have to look down at my plate.
“It’ll be okay,” Chrissy murmurs a moment later.
And I realize they’re all looking at me.
“I’m fine,” I lie, picking up a slice of pizza and taking a huge bite.
“I know you are.” She squeezes my arm. “But it’ll still be okay.”
“Yup,” Rory chimes in. “The dumbass will either get his head together or you’ll find someone better.”
I smile despite myself.
But right now, I’m not sure better exists.
Still, they don’t bring Rhodes up again, or why I’m here instead of with him and Chloe.
They don’t even ask me what my next plans are.
Instead, they fill the rest of the night with stories about kittens and puppies and Joan of Freaking Arc and how Rome and Chrissy met (and how Rome was convinced the Jean-Michel was going to have him quietly disappeared before it all worked out in the end).
They share Rory and King’s story and Rory shows me her bracelet full of colorful charms, each signifying a memory.
Huddy tells me how it took being trapped in Coach Dee’s office after the quake for her to see him as a man, not a player.
And I show them my travel planner, talk about my trip.
The first version.
Not the one I’d made for—
I shove that thought away.
Then Rory and King and Huddy say goodbye, and I order Rome and Chrissy to go to bed, promising to do the dishes and clean up so I can earn my keep.
“You’re welcome—whether or not you do the dishes,” Rome murmurs, pulling me into a tight hug.
But he doesn’t push further.
Just lets me distract myself with dishes as he takes Mia from Chrissy—and finally gets his turn to hold his baby—and they all go upstairs.
It doesn’t take long to put the kitchen to rights, and now I’m sitting cross-legged on the bed in the guest room, folding and refolding the throw blanket that was splayed fashionably over the bottom.
It’s beyond soft and totally cuddle-able.
But all I can think about is the blanket Chloe and I made with its bright glittery square she picked for herself and the grumpy cat fabric she chose for Rhodes.
And the pretty pale pink piece that was me.
My throat tightens.
There’s a soft knock at the door and then it swings open. “You up?” Chrissy asks softly. She’s holding two mugs in her hands and when she sees me, she winces. “Oof.”
I huff a laugh despite myself.
“I’ll be fine.” A beat. “Promise.
“I know you will be.” She walks in, hands me one of the mugs then sits beside me on the mattress.
I eye the contents of the cup. “Please tell me this has alcohol in it.”
Her lips twitch. “Unfortunately not. Next time, though? Bailey’s for sure.” She nudges my arm. “It’s hot chocolate with extra mini marshmallows.”
“Almost as good,” I say lightly.
She snorts. “Liar. But it does in a pinch.”
“That’s true enough.” I smile into the mug, but it fades fast.
Because even being here, with her and Rome and the others, with their warmth and kindness…I’m still hurting.
Chrissy studies me for a moment, far too perceptive for my liking. “You love him.”
It isn’t a question.
So I don’t treat it as one.
“Yup.” I sigh. “Both of them.”
She nods like she expected nothing else and silence falls as I watch a marshmallow slowly melt against the side of my mug.
Then she sighs. “Okay. Here’s the thing. I know you’re sad. And mad. And very likely prepared to swear off men for all eternity…or at least to commit a few years to a nunnery—”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” she says.
I press my lips together. Because…maybe just a little bit.
She grins but it’s only a flash of a smile before she sobers. “I know things are shit right now.” She finishes off her hot chocolate, puts her cup on the side table. “But I have a plan to cheer you up.”
“I don’t need—”
“You need this one.” She takes my mug from me, sets it beside hers on the nightstand.
“Why’s that?”
“Because it might be the most important plan of your life.”
I close my eyes, exhale, open them. “What’s your plan exactly?” I whisper.
“To remind you that you still have a whole life waiting for you.”
I breathe, slow and steady.
Because that’s the problem, isn’t it?
I had a life waiting for me—at the end of a trans-Atlantic flight.
Then somehow in the middle of making lunches and reading bedtime stories and chasing demon cats and sewing blankets and falling asleep beside a man who looked at me like I was everything he wanted…everything changed.
I began wanting something else.
Something different.
Something more.
And now I don’t know which future belongs to me anymore.
Chrissy must see some of that on my face because her voice gentles. “It’s okay to be heartbroken, Finn.”
I blink hard.
“It’s also okay,” she says, “to still want the things you wanted before them.”
“What if…what if I don’t know what I want anymore?”
Her smile turns soft. “Then you take your time figuring it out.”
She pulls me into a hug, orders me to get some sleep—we’ll see how that goes—and snags the mugs. Then she’s slipping out of my room as quietly as she walked in.
And I’m sitting in the silence again.
Only it doesn’t feel quite as soul-crushing.
Not because the hurt is gone.
But because…Chrissy’s right.
I’m not stuck here.
This isn’t the end of my story, no matter if it sometimes feels like it.
The world is waiting right outside these walls.
And I’m going to see it.
All of it.