Chapter 15
Finn
Cassidy keeps us connected in some way the whole way to her couch.
She leans deeper into my arms as we fly, prioritizing contact over her usual desperation to get a better view.
When I set her down, she takes my hand, lacing our fingers together despite us not having an audience.
And when she sits down on the couch, she tugs lightly until I get the hint and sit beside her, pressed right up against her.
“Are you alright?” she asks me seriously.
I turn to get a better look at her. “Am I alright? I’m not the one who got treated like an object for Caroline’s kids to suck blood out of.”
She studies me, not answering for a moment. “You seemed pretty worked up about it though,” she notes.
“Of course I am. My wife was spoken to like that—how else should I react?” I’m getting worked up again.
I thought I could be calm for her, but my blood is boiling all over again, and the only thing keeping me from marching back there to give Caroline—and everyone else in that room—a piece of my mind is the fact that Cassidy clearly wants me right next to her.
“She’s always been a little insensitive, but that was… that was unacceptable, Cassidy.”
“Always?” she asks, perceptive as ever. “How long have you known her?”
“Most of my life.” She’s two years younger than me, and I remember her as a little kid, as a teenager going through a phase where she used magic to solve all her problems, as a pretty young adult.
I swallow. “We dated for a while,” I admit, because I don’t want her to be blind-sided by that later, if this thing with Caroline becomes a thing.
“A few months. About fourteen years ago. Not a big deal. But she’s—yeah. She’s insensitive.”
“Oh.” She’s quiet for a moment, surprise in her eyes. Then, “She’s pretty. And talented.” It sounds begrudging, and I can’t figure out why she’s saying it at all, but then it hits me—does she think I still want Caroline? That she’s my type?
“She was someone from my past,” I dismiss.
“And she’ll be here in your future,” she points out. I hear the unspoken implication and hate it. And I might not be.
“She’s married. And I broke up with her for a reason fourteen years ago.
The Finn of that age was an idiot, and even he was smart enough to see that Caroline wasn’t meant for me.
And,” I add, more emphatic now, “after how she talked to you today, how could you ever imagine that’s something I’d want again? ”
“That wasn’t that bad,” she dismisses, shaking her head.
“It was,” I disagree, wondering how the hell we got here. Why is she comforting me? Even worse, why is she trying to set me up with someone else, someone who hurt her? “It was unacceptable, Cassidy. No one gets to treat you like that. I won’t let them.”
“I know you have some deep-seated chivalry thing—”
I’d laugh if I wasn’t so tense right now. “You think this is chivalry?”
“The neighborly thing to do, then. Whatever you want to call it. It’s not your job to fight people for me.”
“That wasn’t a fight. And this isn’t a neighborly obligation, Cassidy. I didn’t marry you because we’re neighbors. I didn’t defend you because it’s the neighborly thing to do; I defended you because you are my wife.” The words strike heat into my chest.
She’s quiet for a moment, contemplating that. “I’m not really your wife, Finn,” she reminds me. “It’s not your job to defend me.”
“You are my wife,” I retort. “Our marriage is as legal as any other. You are my real wife, Cassidy.”
“You know what I mean.”
Everything about this grates on my soul.
Yes, I do know what she means. I do understand that she considers our marriage a temporary stop for us both while I’ve been falling more and more under her spell every single day.
Cassidy doesn’t have magic, but she’s enchanted me nonetheless.
I don’t want to leave her side. I want every single moment I can get with her, and I want to be the man that terrifies people who treat her wrong.
I can either back down, or I can go all in, and really make how I feel clear to her.
Fuck it. I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself if I let this end with her thinking it didn’t matter. This could blow up in my face, and I might be causing my marriage to end sooner than it needs to, but I need to try.
“Cassidy,” I say firmly, “you are my wife. Not just when they’re watching. Not just when it’s convenient. You. Are. My. Wife.”
And before she can respond, I lean in, cup her jaw, and kiss her.