31. Finn
thirty-one
Finn
A s I walk home after work, the warm summer air feels like it’s congealing in my lungs. I suck in a deep breath, reminding myself of Vivian’s words—that I won’t be submerged. Though I haven’t been inside a bathtub since I was eight, she’s right in that my larger size makes drowning impossible.
Over the years, I’ve tried to get over this fear. But whenever I wade to my waist, searing panic has me retreating toward my towel. Since then, I make excuses for not getting all the way in at the pool or the beach. It’s surprisingly easy to avoid swimming, even when you live oceanside.
Thoughts of canceling swirled all morning.
After all, Vivian said I didn’t have to go through with this if I didn’t want to.
But when I returned to my office after lunch, three children’s board books—each about learning to swim—were stacked neatly in the center of my desk.
The mystical library hadn’t been wrong steering me toward Regency romances, so as odd as it feels, I’m going to trust its guidance once more.
As I turn the corner of my rental into the open backyard, lingering panic abates.
In its place, my heart stumbles off a balcony and falls six stories.
Vivian has foregone the deck furniture and stretches out on the topmost stair, bracing her arms behind her.
The most decadent expression graces her features as she tilts her chin toward the evening sun.
Her lashes fan on her cheeks as a blissful smile graces her mouth.
My phone is out before I think twice about it, snapping a quick picture.
Vivian must hear me approaching, because she tilts her head in my direction, a few curls tumbling over her simple purple dress as I pocket my phone. “Hey.”
It requires effort to keep my pace casual and not sprint to her side when that broad smile—the one just for me—splits her face.
“Hey.” My words are chalky, so I clear my throat. A dozen flirty remarks present themselves, but I end up saying the thought that won’t leave me alone. “Just sit in shallow water?”
Vivian’s gaze turns tender as she pats the space beside her. I set aside my shoulder bag and accept her invitation, gazing at the tranquil bay water but not feeling calm in the least.
“Do you ever sit out here and read?”
“All the time.” It’s no longer a surprise when I answer with the truth. Vivian is about to see the most raw and vulnerable part of me. I’d thought my love for literary antiquities was something that needed to be hidden, but nothing is as revealing as the fear Vivian is about to witness.
“Would you be interested in watching the Worthington series with me?”
“Sure,” I tell her, unsure where this line of questioning is going. I’d assumed I’d change into a swimsuit the second I got home so we could get the aqueous torture done before we could both finally relax after a long week.
“You don’t mind period dramas?”
I brace my elbows on my knees, leaning forward. “I’m honestly interested in seeing the director’s interpretation, particularly of book two.”
“I love book two,” she says with an airy sigh. “I can’t wait for that season to drop.”
We sit in companionable silence for a few moments before Vivian asks, “And your thoughts on holding hands as we take a quiet evening stroll down the beach?”
A grin lifts my lips as I turn my head. “What’s with the questions?”
“Just making sure you’re as perfect as you seem,” she says to the bay.
“I’m not.” My tone is suddenly harder than steel.
Vivian glances at me, her features soft, the corner of her mouth tugging upward. “See, that’s the best part. You don’t get to decide if you’re perfect for me. I do.”
I find myself opening and closing my mouth, words trapped in my throat, like Vivian used to do. She squeezes my forearm, leaning her head against my shoulder. We watch an osprey dive into the water, snag a fish, and fly into the marshy distance.
After a beat, she asks, “What did She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named do to break your heart?”
The idea of concealing the answer doesn’t even register. Whatever Vivian asks, I’ll answer.
“She never even liked me. The sole reason she wanted to marry me was for my father’s money.”
I expect Vivian to express sorrow on my behalf, maybe wrap me in a hug, especially since I alluded to an engagement. Instead, she hums.
“And ever since, you’ve made yourself hard to know so something like that could never happen again.”
I almost chuckle. What did Carol say about Vivian being a good observer?
“Something like that,” I murmur.
Vivian lets out a satiated breath, snuggling against me. “Good thing I like you for other reasons—none of them having anything to do with money.”
“Is that so, gorgeous?”
She tilts her chin up with such a joyful grin my heart gives a heavy thud. “Yes. I mostly like you because you smell like books.”
This time, I do laugh, leaning down to give her smiling lips the lightest brush. We gaze at each other for a long moment, the sea air stirring the tiny hairs around Vivian’s face. The adoration in her gaze never wavers, and I find myself momentarily lost.
I love this woman.
I’d thought that I’d loved Katelyn, but that emotion was a joke compared to how I feel about Vivian.
I want to simultaneously vanquish all her enemies and relax next to her, watching the stars wink into existence as the sky turns dark.
Never in the years after leaving my family had I entertained the idea of forever with anyone.
But I want that now.
I want everything she asked me about earlier, a thousand times over, but I also want more .
I want a beach wedding with everyone in this town in attendance.
I want to show her my long-hidden book collection and create a personal library with her, blending our books like we’ll blend our lives.
And eventually, I want tiny little versions of Vivian with curly chestnut hair and sprays of freckles across their cheeks.
And I want her to have a husband who can partake in one of her favorite hobbies.
I drop my lips to hers again for a long but chaste kiss. When I raise my face, Vivian senses the change in me. She gives my forearm another squeeze before using me as a lever to rise then extending her hand.
“Ready to try this?”
“No,” I answer, gripping her fingers and standing. “But for you, I will.”
The threat to my male pride is making it a challenge not to do something reckless like grab Vivian’s twitchy fingers and run them over my abs.
Was it a bit cocky to slowly peel my shirt off before I lowered myself into the twelve inches of water in the tub?
Sure, but I haven’t had standing water touch my ribs in decades.
I needed some advantage. Vivian’s slight puff of breath at seeing me shirtless for the first time was the ego boost I needed to sit down.
“How are you doing?”
“Fine, gorgeous. How are you? You look a bit warm .” My gaze intentionally rakes over the flush streaking down her neck into the collar of her sundress as I bite the corner of my lip.
The suave response is all an act. My pulse is entirely too fast, and my shoulders are tense from short, inefficient breaths, but I place a confident, flirtatious smile on my mouth. I’m playing the part of fine like my life depends on it.
Vivian moves from her position leaning against the bathroom vanity, almost distracted.
It seems she’s taken my muscled bait. My smile quirks higher as I pull my shoulders back, peacocking…
just a little. All I need is for her to kiss me, and I’ll surge out of this water, distracting her and myself from this misery.
But then Vivian surprises me by combing her fingers through my hair and setting a gentle kiss on my forehead.
“I’m so proud of you.”
My lashes flutter closed as my entire body riots. I’ve already been struggling to keep it together, but with one sentence, Vivian has decimated what’s left of my defenses.
I don’t think anyone has ever told me that. Not my father. Not teachers. Not even Magda.
No one.
I don’t respond. I can’t. All I can do is swallow over the boulder that somehow got in my throat.
“You know,” she starts, her quiet words giving me something to focus on. “I’ve never been on a date.”
This information has me opening my eyes and looking up.
Her small grin isn’t shy. It’s almost…peaceful? “I was kind of hoping you’d be my first first date tonight.”
I want to be your LAST first everything. Your last first kiss. Your last first date.
“I would be honored.”
Vivian does that bouncy thing, and I feel my chest relax for the first time since I lowered myself into the water.
“Okay, but five more minutes first.” She kneels beside the tub, extending her hand with her thumb up. “In the meantime, we thumb war.”
I chuckle. And the astonishment running through me is nothing short of a miracle.
I, Finn Reynolds, who has avoided swimming for years, am sitting up to my chest in a tub of water, laughing .
All because of Vivian. My love for her doubles in that instant, and it’s work to keep the words off my tongue.
Since it’s far too early for declarations, I fall back on a tried-and-true standard—flirting.
“I don’t know, gorgeous. I have an unfair advantage being that my hands are a lot bigger than yours.” The suggestive tone has the effect I’d hoped for, staining Vivian’s cheeks crimson as she wrinkles her nose.
“Less talking, more warring.”
Another laugh escapes me. “Alright.”
After five minutes, my legs are jelly as I stand.
I try not to let Vivian see the slight tremble, flexing unnecessarily as I reach for a nearby towel—because lifting a one-pound towel really requires full biceps contraction.
Vivian’s gaze snags on my arms before slipping to my abs as I dry my torso and then tuck the towel around my waist. I can’t help but smirk at her blatant appreciation.
“What should I wear tonight?”
There’s a second delay before her focus returns to my face, getting stalled on my chest as I take an intentionally large breath.
“Um…something casual?”
Vivian heads downstairs while I get changed.
As I pull a polo over my head, an insidious thought worms its way into my brain.
There’s no way I can continue a relationship with Vivian if I fail professionally.
If this all goes horribly wrong and I have to return to work for my father, I’ll have to leave Wilks Beach.
The smart thing would be to keep my distance, to stay emotionally withdrawn.
But then I recall the exact phrasing of my father’s contract.
The Signatory agrees to attain the highest position in their chosen field by their thirtieth birthday. Failure to do so shall require the Signatory to return to employment under their father’s direction, under terms and conditions to be determined at that time.
My twenty-ninth birthday was a week before I met Vivian. I’d spent it celebrating with Alec, though it’d felt like a noose had been tightening around my neck.
A rough breath shakes free of my lungs. A year.
Even if I fail, I have a year to love the most unexpectedly enchanting, irresistible, and astonishing woman I’ve ever met.
And if I am successful and Cordelia’s future is secure, I’ll stay here.
Either way, I’ll come clean to Vivian about my identity once the directorship position is finalized.
Until then, I’m not going to waste a second of time in her presence.
I quickly don shorts and shoes, thundering down the stairs to start what will hopefully be Vivian’s last first date.