Chapter Twenty-Seven
Maurice
Maurice hadn’t expected saying goodbye to hit him the way it did.
The train had been cramped, chaotic, and full of single men eyeing Finn like he was a free sample, but it had also been the place where everything between them started.
Still, stepping off it and knowing he and Finn would finally sleep in a proper bed felt like a luxury he’d been waiting years for.
And the best part? No more strangers trying to flirt with Finn every time he walked into a room. Maurice would have him to himself.
Mr. Santos insisted on taking a picture of them before they left. Maurice put an arm around Finn’s waist, Finn leaned into him, and Mr. Santos snapped the photo with a rare, almost-smile.
“Send me updates,” Mr. Santos said, pointing at them like a stern uncle. “Both of you.”
“We will,” Maurice promised.
They met up with David and Theo outside, and the four of them piled into an Uber headed toward the hotel. As soon as the car pulled away from the curb, the city unfolded around them in that unmistakable San Francisco way with a little chaotic, and weirdly beautiful.
The hills rose in the distance, stacked with rows of Victorian houses painted in colors that looked like they’d been chosen by someone who refused to be boring.
The afternoon light hit the bay windows just right, turning them into gold-edged mirrors.
Finn pressed his face to the window like a kid on his first field trip, and Maurice felt something warm settle in his chest.
The fog hung low over the water, not quite rolling in, not quite leaving, just hovering like it was eavesdropping on the city.
The smell of the bay drifted through the cracked window: salt, seaweed, and that faint metallic tang that always reminded Maurice of the docks.
A cable car bell clanged somewhere up the hill, followed by the rumble of its tracks, a sound so specific to this place it felt like a signature.
Maurice hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this city until he saw it through Finn’s eyes.
Back when he visited with his family, he’d been too busy feeling out of place to appreciate anything.
Now, sitting beside Finn, he caught himself imagining what it would be like to bring him here again—not for a trip, but for something more permanent.
Lazy weekends. Morning walks to the bakery with the sourdough smell that hit you from half a block away.
Finn learning the rhythm of the cable cars.
Them figuring out which neighborhood felt like theirs.
He didn’t say any of that out loud. But the thought lingered, warm and steady.
Finn turned to him, eyes bright. “This place is amazing.”
Maurice smiled, unable to help it. “Yeah,” he said, watching the fog, the hills, the light catching on Finn’s cheek. “It really is.”
And for the first time in a long time, he let himself picture a future that didn’t feel impossible.
“Feels weird being off the train,” Finn said.
“Feels good.” Maurice rested a hand on Finn’s knee. “Feels like the start of something.”
Finn’s smile reached Maurice, sending a warm sensation deep into his chest.
At the hotel, they checked into their suites, side by side, just as he and David had planned. Close enough to talk, separate enough to give them space.
Finn followed Maurice into the suite, letting the door click shut behind them.
The room smelled faintly of lemon polish and ocean air, sunlight spilling across the carpet in long, warm stripes.
It was nicer than he expected with enormous windows, a view of the bay, and a bed that looked like it could swallow a person whole.
He set his bag down and took a slow breath, letting the quiet settle.
Finn wandered toward the window, pushing the curtain aside. “Wow,” he murmured, the city stretching out below them in glittering blues and golds.
Maurice watched him first then the view. Something about the way Finn stood there, so relaxed and open, like he belonged in the light.
“Nice, huh?” Maurice said, stepping up beside him. Their shoulders brushed, just barely.
Finn nodded, still looking out. “Yeah. Feels… different being here with you.”
That hit deeper than it should have.
To break the tension before it swallowed him whole, Maurice clapped his hands once. “Alright. Very important test.” He walked over to the bed, dropped onto it dramatically, and bounced once. Then twice. The mattress responded like a trampoline disguised as luxury.
Finn laughed with delight in his expression. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” Maurice said, bouncing again. “I need to know if this thing is going to betray my spine in the middle of the night.”
Maurice sprawled out like a starfish across the hotel bed, arms wide, legs everywhere, the mattress practically hugging him back.
Finn crossed his arms, pretending to judge him. “And? What’s the verdict?”
“I could die here. Happily,” he announced to the ceiling.
Finn stood at the edge of the bed, hands on his hips. “With me?”
Maurice cracked one eye open. “Of course with you.”
Finn didn’t hesitate—he launched himself onto the bed with a dramatic flop, bouncing the mattress and rolling straight into Maurice’s arms like he’d rehearsed it. Maurice let out an oof and wrapped an arm around him automatically, laughing as Finn’s weight settled against him.
“Careful,” Maurice said, brushing a curl off Finn’s forehead. “This bed is already trying to seduce me. Don’t make it jealous.”
Finn grinned up at him, eyes bright. “Pretty sure I’m winning.”
Maurice didn’t argue. He just looked at him, really looked, letting the quiet stretch. The sunlight from the window hit Finn’s cheek, softening everything, and Maurice felt that familiar tug in his chest, the one he never bothered hiding anymore.
Finn’s smile faded into something gentler. He lifted a hand, resting it lightly against Maurice’s jaw. “Hey,” he whispered.
Maurice leaned in before he could overthink it.
Their lips met, unhurried at first, with warmth.
Finn shifted closer, fingers curling into Maurice’s shirt, and Maurice kissed him again, deeper this time, the kind of kiss that made the rest of the world feel like background noise.
Except the world apparently didn’t appreciate being ignored.
Maurice’s phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand.
They both froze.
Finn pulled back an inch, forehead still touching Maurice’s. “Seriously?”
Maurice groaned. “If that’s a telemarketer, I’m throwing my phone out the window.”
Finn laughed against his mouth, the sound soft and breathy. “You should probably check it.”
“I absolutely should not,” Maurice said, tightening his arm around him.
But the phone buzzed again—insistent, obnoxious, impossible to ignore.
Maurice sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I want it on record that this is ruining my very romantic moment.”
Finn nudged him with a smile. “We’ll get it back.”
Maurice believed him.
Maurice’s phone buzzed again, rattling on the nightstand like it had a personal vendetta. He groaned, rolled halfway off the bed, and grabbed it without looking at the screen. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
Maurice expected David. Or maybe the hotel confirming something. He
Maurice’s chest tightened. He hated he was about to ruin the moment—even a little.
He stepped into the bathroom, shut the door, and answered. “Hey, sorry to bother you, but I need you to take over my case in July.” Lawrence said immediately, no greeting, no hesitation.
“Is something going on?”
“I need the time off for surgery. I need the month.”
“Sorry to hear that. Of course, I can take the case.”
“Thanks.” Lawrence ended the call but that was how he was. Abrupt and to the point.