Chapter 13
Finn
The rumbling blender grates on my nerves when I walk into Maggie’s in a daze, exhaustion slowing my steps. Eloise woke me
early this morning in a rare bad mood, storming through the house and slamming doors because she couldn’t find Moosey, her
favorite stuffed animal.
I file into line behind a woman with auburn hair. It’s not Millie, because this woman is about a foot taller, but her hair
color still brings Millie’s face to my mind.
The last two weeks have passed in a haze of Fridays.
Saturday through Thursday are fine, routine, plain.
But Fridays are golden because Millie’s there.
She came over to make us chocolate chip cookies the Friday after pizza night, and then she taught me how to make chicken Alfredo
last Friday. She even made a few vegetables that the girls warily took a bite of. Millie supervises and directs me through
each recipe from what I now refer to as her barstool.
She has done all the puzzles the girls own, colored every single time they’ve asked, and prompted more dance parties than
I can count. Millie demanded I order some dress-up clothes for the girls, and they sang with delight when the package arrived,
then did a fashion show of every outfit combination.
But despite all the good things her friendship has brought us, tension still burns through my body like a sparkler every time she’s around.
When she accidentally bumped her hip against mine in the kitchen last week, I almost choked on my piece of garlic bread. Even
the slightest brush of her fingers as I handed her a drink felt like flames licking my skin.
I force myself to shove those feelings into a trunk and fasten the lid tight when she’s around because I don’t want them to
interfere with our friendship.
But when I shut the front door every Friday as she drives away, I let myself peer inside the trunk.
And what I discover is a yearning for more .
More time together.
More laughing.
More giving in to this gravitational pull toward her.
Just more .
“Sir? Excuse me. Are you ready to order?”
The barista’s voice breaks me out of my musings, and I snap my attention to her, pushing away my thoughts of Millie so I can
order my breakfast.
When my coffee and bagel are ready, I grab them from the counter and turn to leave. But I stumble over my feet as I spot another
splash of auburn at a table near the window, and this time I know who it is. My heart pounds heavily in my chest like it’s
attempting to escape my ribs and soar toward her.
Millie’s hair is coppery sunshine in the coffee-shop lighting, making my fingers ache to run through it. As I step in her
direction, I will my eyes not to drop to the smooth skin revealed by the open buttons at the top of her green blouse, but
it’s like a siren’s call, luring me toward the spot. My gaze follows the path of freckles over her collarbones and down into
the vee of her shirt.
Desire trickles through my veins the longer I stare, wishing I could feel that skin against mine. Let her warmth burn beneath my hands and— crash .
Somewhere in the bakery, a plate smashes to the ground, and the sound of shattered porcelain snaps me from my daze. I clear
my throat as I force my eyes back above her neck. “Good morning.” My voice is huskier than usual as I approach her table and
ask, “How are you?”
“I’m great,” Millie says, glancing around the coffee shop. “Simply debating why there are so many people here this morning.
Everyone is finding out about this place, and I selfishly want to keep it a secret.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Have you been telling people about Maggie’s? Posting about it on some kind of Princess Leia fan board?”
Her teasing makes me grin. It feels like an honor to be close enough that she has ammo for making fun of me.
“I would never do that,” I tell her. “I’m as addicted to this place as you are.”
“Good. I’m glad I brought someone over to the dark side with me.” She pins me with a sharp look. “But you’re the only one
allowed. And the girls, of course.”
“Honored, we are,” I say, giving my best Yoda impression, and her twinkling green eyes dance with delight.
She waves to the empty chair beside her. “Want to join me?”
I nod and take a seat. “Was it a muffin morning?” I ask as she picks apart the pastry in front of her.
“One of these people must’ve stolen the last almond croissant.” She shoves a bite angrily into her mouth. “I need to learn
how to make them.”
“You, Millie Oaks, can’t make something?” I tease, taking a sip of my coffee and opening my bagel.
“Ha. Ha,” she says with a scowl. “The process is so long, and I need a standing mixer to blend the dough together better. They keep turning into puddles in the oven.” She shakes her head and crumbles another bite of muffin between her fingers.
I nod like I get it. Like I really have some understanding of croissant-making logistics. “How was your weekend?”
“Standard, I guess. Multiple pots of coffee, chicken tortilla soup with an entire bag of chips and salsa, and a few rounds
of Catan.”
“I haven’t played that game in forever.” I sigh, taking a bite of my bagel. “One of the many hobbies that fall by the wayside
when you suddenly have kids.”
Millie raises her eyebrows. “You should come to game night sometime. Lena, Micah, Emil, and I try to have it once a week.”
The idea of going out and leaving the girls in the evening makes my hands clammy. What if they need me and I’m not there?
“I know it’s hard to schedule stuff like that,” Millie says comfortingly. “But we’d love for you to come. Bring the girls
if you want. We even have some kids’ games and Legos for when Lena’s niece and nephew visit.”
The bell over the door dings behind me, and Millie’s eyes snap toward it.
“That sounds—” I start, but I’m cut off when her hand shoots out to grab the knot of my tie. She hauls me to her, burying
her face in the side of my neck, and I’m frozen in shock, completely unable to process normal thoughts. Millie’s smooth skin
is touching mine, and I’m surrounded by her vanilla-and-lemon scent.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “There’s someone over there I don’t want to see me.” Her warm breath against my neck is like a heater
on my skin, melting my tense muscles.
Don’t be sorry at all. This is exactly where I want you to be.
Fuck. I can’t say that to my coworker. Instead, I whisper, “That’s okay. Did they see you?” My lips accidentally brush the
shell of her ear, and her breath hitches.
“Don’t think so. I saw him right as he walked through the door.” She holds firmly to my tie like it’s keeping her from falling over a cliff.
He. My body moves of its own accord like the need to protect her is instinctual. I slide my arm across the back of her chair
and turn my body toward hers until Millie’s knees nestle between my spread thighs.
“Is this okay?” I ask, hoping it feels like a refuge and not a cage.
“It’s perfect,” she breathes, her soft lips brushing across my neck as she speaks. I barely manage to hold in the groan that
claws its way up my throat.
Strands of her hair wave when I breathe, and the contact of our skin has my heart beating out of my chest. I close my eyes,
focusing on every hypersensitive spot connecting us—my rough beard scraping against her delicate skin and her shoulder pressing
into my chest.
“Are you okay?” I whisper. I want to wrap my arms all the way around her, but I settle for lazily rubbing my thumb in a circle
on her shoulder blade.
“It’s my ex-boyfriend,” she says with a sigh. “I could write a novel to answer your question, but the short version is, he
wasn’t great to me.”
Rage seeps through me like an ink spill on clean paper, and I have to force myself to ignore it and stay where I am.
My entire hand splays across her back, and I pull her closer as she mumbles, “It’s mostly fine. I just don’t want to have
to talk to him. He has texted me a few times recently, and I didn’t want to respond. So I guess I’m hiding like a coward.”
I circle my hand over her soft shirt to suppress the urge to punch this guy. “You’re not a coward. You don’t have to respond
to anyone you don’t want to, ex-boyfriend or not.”
She nods and lets out a long breath. Her grip loosens on my tie, but she doesn’t move away. “Sorry about this.”
God, if there was ever a time she shouldn’t be sorry, this is it. “Don’t apologize. Stay as long as you need. I’m perfectly comfortable.”
I could stay like this for as long as she’d let me.
She huffs a quiet laugh against my skin. Footsteps echo behind us, and her shoulders tense, so I smooth my hand on her back
again until she relaxes.
When the bell above the door chimes, Millie lifts her eyes to look around. She must not see him, because she moves back slowly
until she meets my gaze.
“Thank you.” Her cheeks are flushed, freckles dancing over her rosy skin, and her eyes shine like morning dew on deep-green
moss.
“No problem at all.” My gaze drops to her full mouth, a mere breath away, and my lips tingle with the desperate temptation
to taste hers.
Millie’s tongue darts out to lick her lips, and it’s agonizing to watch. That trunk full of feelings is leaking in my chest,
threatening to drown my entire system.
“Millie.” My voice is so deep and scratchy that I almost don’t recognize it.
Her attention dips to my mouth for an instant before she jerks back into her seat. “We should probably get to work,” she whispers,
avoiding my eyes.
Suddenly realizing that I’ve tilted halfway to her seat, I take a deep breath and force myself all the way back into my own,
trying to cool the heat coursing through me.
“Sounds good,” I choke out, even though it doesn’t. I’d rather stay here with her.
We both sling our bags over our shoulders, and I follow Millie out of the coffee shop. Under the gray morning sky, she scans the sidewalk and street like she’s checking to make sure her ex is nowhere in sight.
I’ve never even seen this asshole, but I hate him.
Quite a few people are downtown this morning, walking in and out of shops and cafés. I shift to Millie’s other side, near
the street, and put my hand on her back to begin our walk toward the museum. I drove to Maggie’s, but I’ll walk with her,
just in case she runs into him again.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask.
She sighs. “We broke up, like, six months ago, and I’m definitely over him. He has the sex appeal of a wet paper towel and
the personality of a rock you keep stubbing your toe on.”
I snort a laugh. “Oddly specific.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it,” she grumbles. “I’m getting back to normal, though. I can finally look in the mirror
and see myself. My natural wavy hair, my favorite clothes, and my genuine smile. I’m not the version he criticized and altered
into what he wanted. And I feel so”—she pauses to look up at me—“peaceful without him.” She tilts her head up to the sky like
she’s asking the universe, “So why do I panic when I see him or get a text from him?”
I touch her fingertips and pull her to a gentle stop under an antique store awning. She turns to me and doesn’t try to pull
her hand away, so I keep my fingers lightly against hers. “Toxic people will do that to you. Your brain can completely shut
down around them to protect itself from those awful memories. But you don’t owe him anything. Not a text, a conversation,
or even a glance. He made you feel like you weren’t good enough. Like you had to change for him. But you don’t have to change
for anyone.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “You’re right.”
“Well, for the record, my therapist is right.” I wince. “And it’s still hard to remember that advice myself half the time.”
Millie slides her fingers up my forearm, determination etched across her brow. “We deserve better than that.”
“Yeah, we do.” Our eyes lock, and on the busy street, surrounded by loud conversations and rumbling motors, our gazes are
connected by an invisible, unbreakable force. It feels like we just unlocked a new phase of our relationship, and I’m not
sure what it is, but I want it.
Fuck. All I do around her is want .
One side of her lips kicks up, and she lets her hand slip from my arm. We walk for a few minutes in comfortable silence before
I ask about our Friday plans. “Are we still on for snickerdoodles tomorrow?”
Millie jumps a few steps ahead of me to turn around and walk backward. Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Making cookies, we
are. Be there, I will.”