Chapter 24
Cassidy
Mrs. Amelia Devarra is about eighty, richer than god, and has been waiting to buy one of Finn’s sculptures for over a year. After Tate and Petra get the sculpture situated in her sculpture garden—because of course this lady has a sculpture garden—she admires it from every single angle.
I don’t blame her. I’m also admiring it, because Finn’s little fox looks so alive it still blows me away sometimes. But it’s hard to take the pictures I want when she won’t get out of the shot.
At last she steps out of my way, and I quickly snap a half dozen pictures before she changes her mind. When I kneel down to get a better angle, Mrs. Devarra gives me a quizzical look. “No one takes proof of delivery pictures with that much passion.”
“Not proof of delivery.” Although they can serve as that, too, I suppose. “I’m Finn’s social media manager.”
She raises an eyebrow. “And does that help?”
Well, it doesn’t hurt, I think sourly. Still, I can’t prove I help yet, since I haven’t been doing it that long. Yes, Finn’s new socials have DMs from prospective clients, but he has yet to go through them to determine who’s real. They could all be window-shopping, for all I know.
“It helps,” I tell her, manifesting it for myself. I want to help him, in part because he’s so great and he deserves the absolute best career he can have, and in part because I want to be useful. I want to deserve this job.
“Then by all means, take your photos,” she says grandly. “Your Finn Delaney could use more publicity, because this is stunning work. Are you sure I can’t convince him to come speak at my garden party next month?”
That’d go over well. I saw on the way in that she even has gargoyle sculptures. Somehow, I doubt she’d respond as positively to the real thing. “I’m sure. He values his privacy highly. He’s a recluse, to be honest.”
“But you see him?”
“I do.” Like in my bed this morning. He’d kissed me a thousand times before we got up and packed up the fox.
“Then tell him I said thank you, and that it’s perfect.” She starts admiring her new piece again, and I know my photo-taking time is over.
I’m honestly happy about it, though. Mrs. Devarra seems to enjoy what she collects, instead of just being a rich woman collecting assets. It’s good that Finn’s work is going to be truly appreciated.
I nod to Petra and Tate, and we file back to the truck. I’m stuck in the tiny seat in the back, but I don’t complain. Petra and Tate are both built like trees, and they need the extra leg room.
“Are you going to be doing all of these with us?” Petra asks, opening up a bag of chips.
“A lot of them, probably. Are you good with that?” I ask. I could be intruding on their time, I suppose. And I don’t know them that well, so they might resent the fact that they had to drag me on this trip.
She turns and looks me over, eyes moving slowly, before she shrugs. “Guess so. Doesn’t matter much to me.” She chews a chip. “I’m glad Finn found someone. I mean, not my business, but he’s looked lonely, you know?”
“That’s just his face,” Tate cuts in before I have to find something to say. “He’s got that grumpy face.”
“He’s not grumpy,” I protest, although honestly, before he married me, I kind of thought he was. Not mean, just grumpy. Someone who didn’t have the patience for others.
But everything is different now that he’s let me in.
Now that I’ve let him in, if I’m being honest. My house feels like our house, and I don’t mind having him there at all.
I like it. The house is never too quiet, but Finn will give me space.
Finn will split half the work with me, but never step in the way of me doing something the way I want to if it matters to me.
And his touch lights my entire world on fire, so there’s that, too.
“He is grumpy,” Petra corrects around a mouthful of food. “But not to you, I guess. Congrats, by the way.”
“Oh, thank you.” It feels a little weird to be congratulated on a wedding that’s fake. Or is it not fake anymore? I don’t think either of us are going to be saying the word divorce anytime soon.
“We’re stopping for lunch,” Petra informs me. “There’s a diner in a town about forty minutes from here, on the way back. You up for that?”
I have no idea what she’d do if I said no, so I nod.
I don’t know these two well, but from what I’ve seen they both eat like the bears they turn into, and I don’t want to see what they’re like if they don’t get fed.
“Sure, whatever you want.” Lunch is a good idea.
We scarfed down breakfast too quickly this morning, already running late to meet Tate and Petra, so I hadn’t eaten that much.
Petra nods in satisfaction and turns back around, offering her brother some chips. I’m pulling out my phone to go through the pictures and send G a check-in text when Petra shoves the bag toward me, offering me a handful, too.
The twins’ diner is in the same strip mall as a jewelry store.
They sit debating over the menu, clearly not worried about getting back by any particular time. I squirm, unable to stop thinking about that damn jewelry store I saw when we got out of the truck.
Is it stupid? I know we’re married, but we’re barely dating in reality. This relationship is so new.
But he is my husband. And there’s the end of summer event in a few days, and there’s a part of me that wants the entire town to know that he’s mine.
Not for the same reasons as before. Not because it’s an act we’re hoping to sell—but because it’s real now.
Finn Delaney is all mine, and I want to stake my claim.
“Can you get me the chicken wrap for the road?” I ask suddenly, interrupting their debate over the meatloaf. They turn to look at me, and I shrug. “I have something I need to do,” I murmur. “But I’ll pay you back for the chicken wrap, don’t worry.”
They both stare at me for a minute, sizing me up. “Lunch is on the boss man,” Tate says slowly. “Be back here in thirty?”
Thirty minutes. I can do that. I nod and dart out of the booth, patting my pocket to make sure I have my credit card as I go.
This is going to cost a fortune, but right now, I don’t care.
The jewelry store is empty when I walk in. It’s a small store, but the display cases take up every available inch of space. It’s too much to look at and take in all at once, and I’m blinded by gems.
“Can I help you?”
I turn to see an older man by a door to a back room. I take a deep breath and square my shoulders.
“Yes,” I tell him. “I’m looking for a wedding ring set.”