Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
Finn
Rhodes played well tonight.
Two goals and dominating the ice with an intensity that took my breath away.
I probably shouldn’t have watched.
But part of me needed to say goodbye…even if it was through a television screen.
Plus, Jean-Michel was at the game, wouldn’t be flying out until it was over.
I needed to know when it would end so I could properly time my arrival at the airport, right?
Sure.
Now I’m aboard his private jet, his wife Tiff sitting across from me while he talks on the phone.
The flight attendants bustle around and the pilots are in the cockpit, doing whatever checks they need to do before takeoff.
And I’m…watching the door to the plane.
Hoping.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Tiff asks gently.
“About my trip?” I hedge.
She smiles softly. “About anything—though, I do love talking about travel plans.” Her eyes go gentle. “But I also don’t mind talking about other things.”
“I...” I shake my head. “I think I’m talked out.”
Jean-Michel hangs up his call then sits next to Tiff, picking up her hand. When he presses a gentle kiss to her palm, my heart convulses, my eyes sting with unshed tears.
“Thanks for letting me hitch a ride,” I say when he looks up at me.
He shrugs. “You have my number. Text me before you book a flight and if I’m nearby, you can hitch a few more.”
“I couldn’t—”
Tiff squeezes my knee. “You could.”
Jean-Michel nods. “Think of it as freeing up your travel funds for the good stuff.”
I nibble at my lip. “But you don’t think it’s dumb? To be taking this trip in the first place?”
He lifts a brow in question.
“My parents.” I shake my head. “They think it’s a waste of time, think I should settle down with a stable career. Even Rhodes—” My voice cracks. “Even he made it clear that me wanting to do this was part of the reason why he—”
Jean-Michel sits back. “That’s not why he did what he did.”
I freeze.
“He loves you.”
My lungs seize.
“And he’s already lost one woman he loved.
” A sigh. “That gutted him, so now he’s running scared, ending things before he can get in too deep.
What he doesn’t understand yet is that he’s already there.
That running won’t change a damned thing about his love for you.
” His gaze finds Tiff’s for a heartbeat and something passes between them.
“And soon enough he’ll realize that when life gives you a second chance, you fucking take it. ”
“He said he needed to protect Chloe,” I whisper.
“He needed to protect himself,” Jean-Michel says. “Chloe was just a convenient excuse.”
“I changed my plans to include him and Chloe.”
Tiff sucks in a breath. “Oh, honey.”
“Taking the trip was always my dream,” I say.
“It’s what I wanted. For me. It was freedom and a chance for me to be…
” My voice wavers. “Me. Then I met him and Chloe. And I fell in love and…I started to think I could be me with them too. Rhodes was so supportive and Chloe was—” I bite my lip.
“So then I started thinking my plans could shift, could morph into something that meant I kept them both.”
“And now?” Jean-Michel asks gently.
“Now,” I whisper, “I don’t know what I can have. Or even what I want.”
He nods like that makes perfect sense—and maybe to him it does. “Take the opportunities in front of you,” he says after a moment. “Even when the heart is bruised.”
Tiff laughs quietly, and I blink at her. “That sounds like something we should print put on a tote bag,” she explains.
“I’ll tell Chrissy.” Jean-Michel’s mouth kicks up. “She can sell them at the rescue.”
Now I laugh too—it’s tiny and half-hearted. But it’s there.
Then the quiet settles around us again.
“He lost the woman he loved,” I say softly. “Lost Chloe’s mom.”
“Yes, he did,” Jean-Michel says, no judgment in his tone.
Only truth.
Which is probably why my next words come out so easily. “So, I’m not all he’s lost.”
“But you’re what he’s lost now, sweetheart.”
My breath catches. “That doesn’t mean he’ll fight for me. For us.”
Jean-Michel is quiet for a long moment.
Then he leans forward, his forearms on his knees.
“Maybe he won’t fight the way you want. And maybe he won’t realize his mistake in time to fix it.
” His gaze holds mine as though he can see every thought crossing through my mind.
“But make no mistake, Finn—now he understands exactly how precious you are.”
My throat goes tight; tears burn the backs of my eyes for the hundredth time in the last few days. I look out the window, blink rapidly. “Maybe,” I whisper.
“Just so you know,” he says even more softly, “men are idiots when they’re scared.”
I laugh wetly. “That feels very sexist.”
He smiles. “It is.” Then he adds dryly, “Damn patriarchy.”
I wipe at one eye and hate myself a little for how much I want Rhodes to be brave.
To show up.
To pick me.
To say he was wrong.
But wanting something doesn’t make it reality.
I know that.
I’ve known that all my life.
So when Jean-Michel squeezes my shoulder then stands and tells me to relax and enjoy myself, I do.
I take a glass of champagne from the flight attendant.
I doublecheck that my passport is safely tucked in the side pocket of my purse.
I pull out my book, plug in my charger, make sure my downloaded shows are ready to be consumed in bulk.
But all the while, somewhere deep inside me, a tiny ridiculous hope refuses to die.
By the time I’m waiting for the flight attendants to close the plane’s door it’s become unbearable.
Every footstep makes my pulse jump.
Every voice echoing through the cabin feels like a countdown.
I check my phone too many times. Maybe he’ll text?
But there’s nothing.
Of course there’s nothing.
And yet, I keep expecting to hear my name.
To turn and see him striding down the aisle.
To find myself in some random romcom, movie magic crashing into my life and sweeping me away to happily-ever-after.
Spoiler alert: it doesn’t happen.
The door closes with a resounding thunk.
The engines hum.
The plane begins to move.
And I sit there with my hand tight around the glass of untouched champagne, and understand, finally, that he’s not coming.
The tears I cry are silent.
But they’re not invisible.
Tiff passes me a tissue, holds my hand for a long, long time.
And eventually…
I say a quiet goodbye to the family I dreamed of.