Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Finn
The next night, I show up at Burke’s house in Loveland with a bag of chips and a ball of energy in my stomach. Burke’s text didn’t say who they’d invited tonight, but the prospect of seeing Raya has me nervous.
Hopefully, it’s what she’s looking for.
Poppy opens the door, and I hand her the chips. “I know you’re a fancy chef and everything, but my momma said to never show up empty-handed.”
Her smile is wide. “Well, I already love your momma. Thank you for this. They’ll go perfect with the dips I made.”
I follow her into the kitchen and see a spread of food out on the counter, set up buffet style. Poppy empties the chips into a bowl and sets them on the counter next to the dip. It’s kind of her since there’s already another bowl of chips out.
“Dallas is in the living room with Gray,” Poppy says.
“But we think we’ll keep you in here with us.” Eloise walks in and looks at me. “Just for a second.”
“Don’t freak him out!” Burke calls from the other room.
Both women face me—Eloise with her arms crossed, eyebrows raised, and Poppy with the hint of a smile on her face.
“Ah, shoot. They told you,” I say.
“Of course they told us,” Poppy says. “The real question is—what the heck have you been waiting for this whole time?”
“So this really was all real—you actually have a thing for her?” Eloise throws her arms up in the air.
I wince and shrug at the same time.
“She thinks you’re teasing her,” Eloise says.
Poppy looks at me. “She thinks it’s all a joke.”
“Correction—she thinks I’m a joke,” I say. “I just . . . let her.”
“Aw, Finn,” Poppy says, a tinge of pity in her voice. She reaches over and puts a hand on my arm. “You’re an idiot.”
I frown. “I—”
They both shake their heads in a long, slow movement, like two choreographed disappointed parents.
“You’ve come to the right place, my friend.” Eloise claps a hand on my shoulder.
“Guys?!” I call out to the other room. “You wanna come help me in here?”
“No, no, no,” Eloise holds up a finger at me. “They will not come to your rescue.”
“Sit.” Poppy points to the stool on the other side of the counter. “When did your infatuation with our very cranky but very beautiful older sister begin?”
Again, my mind conjures images of Raya—walking straight to the bar, then tipsy on the dance floor, then with her arms up around my neck in the dimly lit room . . .
But I can’t go there. I’ve been sworn to secrecy.
“Halloween party two years ago,” I say, which is not exactly a lie. Because before that night, I assumed I’d never see Raya again. “You were both there.”
“Ah,” Eloise says. “Morticia.” She grins. “I told her she looked hot.”
I laugh, and even though I don’t say so, I silently agree.
“So this whole time—” Eloise picks up a chip, scoops up some dip, and pops it in her mouth— “all those flirty little comments—it was real.”
“Of course it was real,” I say.
“I knew it.” Eloise smacks Poppy across the arm. “What have I been saying this whole time? I knew it!”
“You know why she doesn’t take you seriously,” Poppy says.
“Because I’m not serious?” I ask, even though this is really not a question that needs to be answered.
Poppy shrugs.
“That’s why I’m here,” I say. “I need you to tell me how to prove to her that I may not be a serious guy, but I am serious about her.”
There’s a pause, and then they look at each other and do this weird thing that girls do where it looks like their faces are melting into pouty expressions and they both let out a long “awwww.”
I only stare.
“Okay, well, first . . . you flirt with everyone,” Eloise says. “So, flirting with her isn’t unique or special, you know?”
“I don’t flirt—”
She holds up a hand. “You do.”
I snap my jaw shut.
“Then there’s your little act.” Poppy picks up a wooden spoon that seems more like a prop than an actual utensil.
“My act?”
“Where you tease her, and it gets under her skin, then you push a bit farther, and she ignores you and acts like you’re super annoying.” Poppy shrugs.
I’m chagrined. “That’s not an act.”
“And if you’re going to ask her out—” Eloise picks up another chip, pops it in her mouth, then finishes her thought as she chews— “you need a plan. An actual date. You can’t say, ‘Hey you, uh, you wanna do something sometime, baby?’” She uses a deep, weird voice when she says this, and I laugh.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Poppy says. Eloise picks up a chip and tosses it at her. It lands in Poppy’s hair.
“El!”
Eloise crunches another chip and grins.
“You two would fit right in with my family,” I say.
“Ooh, I like them already.” Eloise wags her eyebrows.
Poppy walks over to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water, then hands it to me. “You have to say, ‘Hey, Raya, I’ve got two tickets to the museum this Thursday night. Do you want to come with me?’”
I make a mental note. “To a museum? You think that’s the kind of place she’ll want to go?”
“I was just using that as an example,” she says. “But you can’t take her to a sports bar.”
“Or axe throwing.”
“Or Top Golf.”
“Got it,” I say, miming writing out a list. “No . . . fun . . . places.”
“How about a nice restaurant?” Poppy says.
I nod. “Like a steakhouse?”
“Or somewhere you’d, you know, dress up. Wear a shirt with a collar. Make an effort.”
I nod. “Okay. I’m not—do you know where I grew up?”
They share a look. “Somewhere out west?” Poppy says.
“A ranch. In Montana. A formal dinner was if we all actually wore pants to the table.”
They stare at me.
“I’m kidding,” I say, then add, “pants were always optional anyway.”
Gray walks into the kitchen. “You know, there is another way.”
He picks up a bottle of fancy cream soda—the same kind Raya and I both drank at the engagement party—and unscrews the top. He takes a long, slow drink, and my eyes dart to Eloise.
“Anytime, Hawke,” she says. “We’re just kind of all waiting for—”
“Show up for her,” he says. “Like that one—” he points the bottle in Eloise’s direction— “did for me.”
“Aw,” Eloise says.
“How do I do that?” I ask. “The woman literally will not accept help. From anyone. Ever.”
“True,” Poppy says. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need it.”
“Maybe start small,” Eloise says. “Bring her coffee once in a while.”
“Or that fancy gourmet chocolate.” Poppy sets a bowl of freshly popped popcorn on the counter. “I think paying attention to the little things will go a long way.”
“Yes! She works nonstop,” Eloise says. “She needs a break. Or an enema.”
Poppy bursts out laughing. “Oh my gosh, Eloise!”
I’m getting a very clear picture of how Raya’s sisters see her. And I get it, but also—I’ve already seen a completely different side of her.
“Does she take days off?” I ask.
They both shake their heads.
“Figure out what she needs and show up for her,” Gray says. “Pay attention. Be a friend. You don’t need a collared shirt to prove you’re a good guy.”
There’s a pause, all of us a little stunned that Grayson Hawke is doling out the most sensible wisdom in the room.
“I am so in love with you right now.” Eloise walks over to Gray, takes his hand, and pulls him out of the kitchen. “We’ll be right back.”
Gray sets his bottle down on the counter as he leaves the room, a surprised smile on his face. “I should speak up more often.”
I reach over and pick up a chip, but I set it back down. Poppy looks at me, pity in her eyes. “You look like a lovesick puppy.”
“Pathetic, right?” I smile, but it’s half-hearted. “You think we’re a bad match?”
She shakes her head. “Exactly the opposite. I think she’d be lucky to have a guy as kind and good as you, Finn.”
The compliment throws me. I’m used to my parents saying nice things, but they’re my parents—they’re practically contracted required to say nice things.
She pauses, then adds, “It’s just sometimes hard to convince Raya to see things differently than she sees them.”
“And she sees me as—”
“As a flirty, hockey-playing, not-so-serious guy who is just looking for a good time,” Poppy says. She adds, a bit more gently, “Because that’s kind of who you’ve been up to this point.”
Yeah. I have. For good reasons too.
Heaviness sucks. I don’t like thinking about it. Plus, isn’t life much better when you find silver linings everywhere? Isn’t it easier if you’re not bogged down by the crap life throws at you?
I look at Poppy, realizing something. “You know I’m not some womanizing party guy, right?”
Her eyebrows shoot up like she doesn’t believe me. “Do I?”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Finn, you’ve brought a different woman to every team function we’ve been to. You’re famous for your epic parties. Aren’t you the reigning beer pong champion?”
I blow out a breath. “I got out of that game without taking a single drink.”
She shoots me a look.
I lose the smirk.
I hear what she’s saying, and she’s right. Don’t change me, change my behavior. It makes me feel stupid, but I take the words to heart. I’ll be her friend—her real friend. Showing up for people is easy for me, and Gray’s right—that goes a long way.
“Hey, uh, is she coming tonight? Raya, I mean?” I ask, mentally preparing myself.
“Let me check.” Poppy picks up her phone as Eloise returns to the kitchen.
“Sorry, had to make out with my hot boyfriend for a minute.”
“Well, thank you for not doing it in the kitchen again,” Poppy says smartly, scrolling on her phone. Her face falls. “Oh.”
Eloise and I glance at each other, then Eloise says, “What?”
“I’m so sorry, Finn. Raya’s not coming.” Poppy clicks the phone off, sets it down, and looks at me.
“She’s on a date.”