Chapter 21 #2
I never talk about my relationship with my parents. Not with them, not even with Gigi or Dean. But Finn has just opened up
to me, and I trust him with my most vulnerable thoughts in a way I’ve never trusted anyone else.
“I feel like a horrible person admitting this, but it’s actually a relief to be away from them.
” I look out the window at the Scottish countryside, the green fading as dusk settles over the hills.
“I love them, but it’s hard to focus on my own life, to process the good and the bad things that happen to me, when they’re always dragging me into their dysfunctional relationship. ”
“Two things can be true,” he says, echoing my words. “You can be relieved to be away from your parents and be a good person.”
“Your response was much nicer than my response.”
“You may be a ‘good’ person, but I’m a really good person,” he says solemnly. I playfully pinch his arm.
Finn turns down a country road, a few miles away from Edinburgh. Part of me, the part that always expects a plan and direction,
wants to ask again where we’re going. Instead, I settle into the not knowing. After all, he clearly wants to surprise me.
We make another turn and pull into a lot. There’s a helicopter in front of us.
“Um, Finn?” I say, my head spinning.
“Yes, American Hannah?”
“Are we getting on that thing?”
“Much to the chagrin of my security detail, we are.” He parks the car, opens the door for me, and leads me to the helipad.
Getting into the helicopter is not something I manage with grace, considering how fitted my dress is around my hips and thighs.
My foot slips and Finn “helps” by pushing on my ass.
Well, “pushing” is generous—he’s mostly just squeezing it, which makes me laugh and slip again.
We put on our seat belts and headsets, the propeller whirls powerfully, and soon the chopper tilts to one side and the other as it lifts into the air. I let out a string of curse words.
“Hannah,” he chides, clutching invisible pearls. “I can’t believe you kiss me with that mouth.”
Helicopter pilot be damned, I lean over and kiss him right then and there. Being with him is joy. Pure, silly, wonderful joy.
Even though I could happily spend the helicopter ride making out with Finn, I don’t want to miss this once-in-a-lifetime view.
And looking out the window of an airplane is nothing compared to this. We fly over Edinburgh. I immediately spot Holyrood
Palace and Edinburgh Castle, which orients me well enough to point out The High Road Pub, where we met. Neither of us has
to say anything. He simply squeezes my thigh as we fly over it.
He points out stadiums I immediately forget the names of. We head south over the cityscape, green pastures, and gorgeous lakes.
I’m taking in so much beauty all at once, I’m no longer talking, just shaking Finn and pointing. But when I look back to make
sure he’s seeing what I’m seeing, he’s looking at me.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to a new city.
“Manchester, darling.”
“Is that where we’re going?” I ask, my stomach fluttering again at the term of endearment.
He shrugs. We pass over Manchester and soon the helicopter lowers.
“I have no idea where I am,” I tell Finn, taking my headset off, “but wherever it is, I love it.”
“Getting you in the helicopter was such a chore, I just hope you’re able to get out and see it,” Finn teases, kissing my nose.
“How about if I just fling myself out of the helicopter and you catch me.”
“My security detail can only take so much, Hannah.”
I do manage to get out of the chopper without too much trouble. Dark clouds are slowly moving in, but I don’t care. I’m already
having the best night of my life.
A very solemn-looking chauffeur in a dark suit ushers us into the back seat of a sleek car, then drives off. I press my face
to the window, searching for some indication of where we are. And then I see the sign.
Stratford-upon-Avon.
“You brought me to Shakespeare’s birthplace?” I say, oohing at the quaint little town as it comes into view. It looks like something out of a storybook.
“I figure since you’re a wordsmith just as he was, it’d be a good fit.” He takes my hand. “Who knows, perhaps Shakespeare’s
ghost will appear and tell you what you and I already know: You’re a writer.”
He’s obviously teasing me about the “swoonable” moment, but he’s also telling me he has faith in my lofty writing-career goals.
In me. Unexpected emotion forms in my chest and rises up my throat.
This surprise date has already been over-the-top.
Yet, when I look at Finn, I don’t see a prince.
I see a boy who is very much trying to tell a girl how much he cares for her.
The words I want to say to him are too heavy, too soon.
I tell him another truth instead. “This is perfect. You are perfect.” I kiss him, despite the driver a few feet away, because I need him to know. He and the helicopter pilot can
exchange notes later, for all I care.
The car pulls over and stops. The driver looks at us through the rearview mirror.
“A respectful reminder to stay to the route and locations that have been approved, Your Highness,” he says.
“Of course.” Finn unbuckles his seat belt. “Thank you, Mason.”
We get out of the car, and I drink this new magical place in. To our left is a charming little arched bridge over a canal
lined with colorful boats. To our right is a line of shops, some Tudor-style, some red brick. He takes my hand, and we start
walking toward the shops.
“This is the best day of my life,” I tell him. “Tell all the guys of my future to pack it in, because you’ll never be outdone.”
His brow furrows and he’s about to say something that seems as though it might be important, when his attention darts behind
me.
“Shit,” he mutters. He pulls on the handle of the nearest shop and ushers me inside.
“Everything okay?” I ask, shuffling inside what turns out to be a secondhand bookshop.
“Of course,” he says, but he’s still eyeing the glass panel of the door. He puts a hand on the small of my back and leads
me farther into the store.
“Let me know if I can help you,” an elderly bespectacled man at the counter says without looking up from his own book.
We’re in the back of the store now, in the mystery/thriller section. “Why are we in here? What happened out there?”
“There was someone outside by the bridge who saw us and immediately pulled out their phone.” Finn sighs and looks up at the
ceiling. “I wanted to get us away before they took our photo.”
His explanation doesn’t sit right with me. Yes, there was a time when I didn’t want to be photographed with him—worried about
what professors and other students might think of me in the fall. That’s changed now. I’m proud to be at his side. I want people to know how I feel about him.
“There were photographers everywhere at the Highland games,” I point out.
“That was different,” he says quietly.
I want to ask how, but I already know how. Beatrice was at his side during those shots. I was off to the side in my discount
dress and pink Chucks.
My stomach drops. Insecurity splashes down on me fiercely and I can’t stop the words from coming out. “Are you ashamed of me?”
Finn looks genuinely surprised. “What?”
“Are you ashamed to be seen with me? With just me?” My voice wavers slightly. I manage to stand my ground, to keep eye contact while I wait for the truth. “I get it. I
mean, I’m a clumsy American who can barely get in and out of a helicopter, so—”
“Hannah.” Finn brings both his hands to my cheeks and leans down until our foreheads touch. “I wasn’t protecting me, I was protecting
you. I don’t have a choice about being in the media. I was born into it. But you? I don’t want them treating you badly. Saying
ugly things just to get a rise out of us.”
“Okay.” I think I believe him. I want to.
Finn must sense my hesitation. He brushes my hair away from my face. “Why would I ever be ashamed of you? You are perfect.”
A sweet heat licks at my cheeks. I cover up my bashfulness with a joke. “You’re right. I am perfect. You, on the other hand . . .
What am I going to do with you?” I lift onto my tiptoes and kiss him until we bump into a bookshelf, and we both start quietly
snickering. And then I kiss him some more.