Chapter 21
Cassidy
What starts as one of the best days in recent memory goes downhill from there.
The gossip hounds are out in full force at work, and I get peppered with questions about my marriage all day.
On its own, that wouldn’t be the worst thing.
They’re annoying but I can handle it. Some of them are even cute, like the old ladies who have known Finn since he was born telling me they knew he’d grow up to be “such a nice young man” and that I’d “bagged myself a good one,” which I can’t help but agree with.
But when I’m sitting in the back room eating my lunch, minding my own business and thinking about what I want to do tonight with Finn, I hear voices from the paper products shelf right outside the back room.
“Oh, yes, Jackie already put in her application,” someone says. I don’t recognize the voice.
“He’s taking applications? He hasn’t even gotten the land yet.”
“Well, he wants to move fast once he does. He’s already going to lose this summer’s tourist season, and the leaf peepers, too, but I think he hopes he can be ready in the spring if he starts right away. And Jackie has always been a lovely cook, you know, so she should be a shoo-in.”
My sandwich hangs limp and forgotten in my hands. They’re talking about Hugh. They’re talking about my house. They’re talking about him getting my house like it’s a foregone conclusion that Hugh will get it and rip it down to build his stupid little hotel.
He’s so confident that he’ll win at the town meeting, that I’m just a tiny obstacle in the way of him getting what he wants, that he’s already taking applications. I feel small in the face of that, shrinking down like I’m hiding in this back room.
“What other positions is he looking for?” the second voice asks.
“The list is on the bulletin board, as well as the number to call.”
My bulletin board? The one I manage? A red-hot rage flushes through me. Hugh did that on purpose. Hugh picked my place of work just to rub it in.
I don’t leave until I’m sure they’re gone, and the first thing I do is walk over to the bulletin board and rip down Hugh’s neatly-printed flyer.
I’m sure he hung them up in other places, too, but I can at least control this one.
Flyers need my approval to be hung, and he sure as shit doesn’t have it.
I’m a mess on the register for the rest of the day. I count change incorrectly at least three times, and I’m thankful people around here are so honest and don’t take the extra money. The last thing I need is to end the day with my drawer short.
Finn sees it on my face the second I leave the market. “What happened?” he demands.
I debate for a half second not telling him, but he’ll ask again if I don’t answer. And if we’re married, aren’t we supposed to tell each other everything? “Hugh’s started handing out job applications,” I explain. I show him the flyer that I’d wadded into a ball, unfolding it so he can read it.
His expression is thunderous. “I’m going to kill him.”
“No, you’re not. That’s illegal.”
“He’s a dick,” he says stubbornly.
That almost gets me to crack a smile. “Still illegal, I’m afraid. I just want to go home. Not think about him for a while.”
Finn frowns, but he nods. “I can do that. Let’s go.”
He flies me home and takes the long way, and I try to let the sights distract me. They’re not working as well as they usually do.
We land on my front lawn and Finn sets me down. “What can I do?” he asks quietly. There’s a tension in his body that won’t go away. I want to help him with it, but I don’t know how. I can’t exactly get myself to relax, either.
“Can we just… not think about him for a while? Not talk about him?” I ask. Our entire marriage was originally founded on thinking about Hugh, but I hope we can move past that for tonight. I need my husband tonight, not my conspirator against Hugh.
“Of course,” he replies. “Dinner? Why don’t you change and relax, and I’ll get food together. And then we can watch a movie?”
That sounds divine. I hesitate a second. “Are you sure? I can—”
“You can relax. I got this.”
Finn is not going to bend on this, I already know, so I nod and trudge upstairs. Shedding my work clothes feels like shedding the worst parts of the day. There’s no more job, no more Hugh. Just for a little while.
When I get downstairs, Finn is flipping one last pancake onto a stack. “It felt like a breakfast for dinner night,” he murmurs, and I tear up again. He remembered. Of course he remembered. Finn seems to remember everything I tell him, no matter how silly or small. “Movie night?”
Pretty much every night since we got married has been a movie night, so I nod. “Do you want to pick?” I offer.
“No, that’s fine. You set it up,” he says, turning back to the food.
“Aren’t you sick of rom-coms?”
“Nope.” He doesn’t elaborate any further, reaching for the bacon he's frying.
By the time he appears in the living room with plates and forks in hand, I have She’s the Man pulled up.
Finn settles in next to me and wraps a wing over my shoulders.
I relax under his calming weight, take my offered plate, and forget everything going on outside of this couch for a couple of hours.