33. Finn
THIRTY-THREE
Finn
PAST
I don’t want this day to end.
It’s mid-afternoon, and Ash and I have spent the entire day canvasing Dublin. When I texted her last night after our final group dinner, asking what she wanted to do, her only request was that she wanted me completely “off-duty.”
I warned her that a request like that would basically rule out nearly everything in Dublin, but she just sent back a happy face emoji and said, “That’s fine.”
So, after officially ending my tour guide duties, saying goodbye to everyone at breakfast, and overseeing a few airport transfers, Ash and I took to the streets.
And that’s what we’ve been doing ever since.
Just walking.
Walking and talking. Kissing.
For hours.
It’s a fucking delight. I’ve been dying to spend time with this girl for an entire week, and now I have her undivided attention, and she has mine. We’ve talked about everything from mundane things like our favorite color to heavier topics like our childhoods and her breakup with Theo.
I still haven’t told her my real name—or my full name, rather.
I should. But I’ve essentially been lying to her for a week now. How do I even broach that subject? Hey, Ash. So, I know you think I’m just some random tour guide, but actually, I’m going to be running this whole operation someday…if my da ever forgives me for being a worthless shite.
Yeah.
I don’t doubt she would understand once I explained it all, but I just don’t want to be that guy yet. To her, I’ve only ever been just Finn Larkin, the tour guide. I don’t want to lose that yet.
Eventually, I’ll tell her who I really am—Finn Larkin- O’Connell —heir to O’Connell Tours, but not today.
Today, I just want it to be this.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as we turn a corner. I pull it out just as Ash asks, “You want to grab a coffee? I could probably use a break from walking.”
I glance down at the caller ID and see my mam’s name. My brows furrow. I can’t recall the last time she called me.
I’ll call her back later.
“Sure,” I reply, sending my phone to voicemail and turning it off for good measure. I have only a few hours left with this girl, and I want to be completely present for every single one of them.
She grabs a table while I order coffee and scones from the counter. While I’m waiting, I see her texting someone. From her goofy smile, I know she must be checking in with her mam. The woman is probably plying her for details on our date.
Is this a date?
We haven’t exactly put a label on it.
I’m not even sure how you’d label any of this. The instant attraction. The connection. The burning pain in my chest that I feel whenever I think about her leaving tomorrow.
Bollocks.
“Have that coffee for you.” I double blink, turning back to the counter, where the woman who rang me up is setting ceramic cups and plates in front of me. “Right, yeah. Thanks.”
It takes two trips, but I manage to get everything to the table. Ash is already helping herself to the cream and sugar by the time I take the seat across from her.
“Was that your mom you were texting?” I ask. I already know it was her, but it feels strange not to ask.
“Yeah. She wanted to let me know she’s more than happy to duck out of the hotel room for a few hours if we need it.”
“What?” I nearly choke on my coffee, laughing. “Your mam actually said that?”
“Yeah, she’s something else. She has an unhealthy interest in my love life.”
“It’s sweet,” I say, taking a chunk off my orange scone. “Albeit a bit invasive, but sweet.”
“A bit?” She scoffs. “She literally just offered us a love nest, Finn.”
“Well, tell her thanks, but remind her I have a flat just across town. We’re all set.” She stares at me. I wink, and she breaks out into a fit of laughter. “I’m kidding, Ash.”
Mostly.
Sort of.
I mean, I wouldn’t be against it.
The topic thankfully moves on because the thought of Ash in my apartment, splayed out on my bed naked, while I unleash every fantasy I’ve had over the last week is beyond tempting.
“Why did I think scones were horrible?”
I watch her pop a piece of the pastry into her mouth and try not to fixate on how her tongue glides over her lips. “What?” I ask, feeling a bit dazed.
“Scones,” she repeats. “I always thought they were these dry, flavorless little things. But I’m pretty sure I’ve eaten about three dozen since I got here, and I have to say I’m a big fan.”
I let out a deep rumble of laughter because, Christ, she’s cute. “Well, the Republic of Ireland thanks you for your patronage.”
She pushes her plate aside and lifts her mug, holding it with both hands. “I can’t believe I’ll be back home tomorrow.”
You and me both. “What time does your flight leave?”
“Early, I think,” she answers, staring at the steam rising from her cup. “Eight or maybe nine o’clock?” Which means she’ll have to be at the airport by five or six.
We’ll have to say goodbye tonight.
My stomach begins to knot. “Have you thought any more about what you’ll do when you get home?”
She takes a slow sip of her coffee. “Um, a little.” Her freckled nose scrunches, almost like she’s embarrassed. “I like the idea of maybe going back to school.”
“Yeah?” That piques my interest. “Will you go back to Notre Dame, or?—”
“Oh, I have no idea yet. But I know I want to focus on European history.”
“Feeling inspired, are you?” I grin.
“It’s always been my favorite, but yeah, this was the kick I needed, I think.”
“You know, there’s no better place to study European history than in Europe—or so I’ve heard,” I joke. But to be honest, it’s barely a joke. I’d give my left arm to have her on the same continent as me.
“You know, I do believe I’ve heard that too.”
It’s not long before we finish our coffee and head back out onto the streets, walking and talking. Before I know it, the sun is setting, and the temperature has sunk well below the average for a spring day in May.
We duck into a little pub to eat and warm up. She tells me a funny story about one of the couples on the tour, and I share some of the crazier adventures I’ve had as a tour guide over the last two years.
We order drinks. She gets the waiter to take a photo of us to add to her growing collection. Eventually, I pay, and we head out.
We’re running out of time.
“I should walk you back to your hotel,” I say, even though it’s the last thing I want to do.
She nods, and we continue down the street, walking silently side by side as if we’re marching off to war. After a few blocks, she comes to an abrupt stop.
“You okay?” I turn, having to backtrack a few steps.
“Isn’t this—” She looks around the street corner, her eyes wide. I have no clue what she’s talking about until my gaze follows hers, and then I see it.
“This is where we first met.”
We stand there, silently staring at each other. “I don’t want to go home tomorrow,” she finally says, her voice hardly more than a whisper.
I take a step closer, closing the gap between us. “I don’t want you to go home either.”
I reach up to caress her cheek. Her eyes flutter shut for just a fleeting moment as she leans into my touch, savoring it. Memorizing it.
My heart fucking aches.
I wish we were alone. This is a side street, so there isn’t much foot traffic to begin with, but I still move us off the main path. She leans against the brick wall of a closed shop, its darkened windows giving us a sense of privacy. I huddle in close, trying to keep her warm while also needing to be near her.
We’ve kissed throughout the day, but it’s been mostly a PG affair since we’ve been in public. Always fleeting, never enough. Her hair is plaited down her back today. I’ve been dying to wrap my fist around it and lose myself in her.
I finally give in and do just that.
She gasps as I tug on her hair, using it as leverage to angle her head so I can take her mouth. Nothing about this kiss is PG. I devour her. With every swipe of my tongue, I show her just how much I want her. And how I never want to let her go.
By the time we break apart, we’re breathing heavily, and I’m so turned on that I’m seriously reconsidering that hotel offer from her mam.
She licks her lips, and a sad smile passes across them. “I don’t want to go home tomorrow—but I know I should.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t plan for this,” she states. The air is cold and damp, and tiny wisps of chill punctuate every word.
“I didn’t either.”
“I know.” Her fingers graze my chin, feeling like ice. I take her hand and wrap it around my waist under the warmth of my coat. She’s momentarily distracted as her palms slide over my abs. I laugh, and she pinches me. It eases the tension, and I sense her relax in my arms. “I don’t want this to end, Finn.”
“But?” I say. I can hear it hanging in the air.
“But,” she continues, “you were right when you said I should try putting myself first for a change. I’ve been in a relationship since I was a kid. When I came here, I was still nursing a broken heart—or at least an angry one. I want to see where this goes, but?—”
“You want to take it slow.”
“Yeah.”
“Well.” I flash her a crooked smile. “Given that we’ll be an ocean apart, I can’t imagine how it could go any other way.”
I intended it as a joke, but I can see the worry gnawing at her, and I instantly regret it. “Hey, I’m sorry, Ash. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. I’m not—I would never?—”
“No, I wasn’t comparing you to him. I just worry that this is doomed to fail. I mean, we’ve only known each other for a week. Are we crazy?”
I kiss her again cause I’m finding it hard not to. “Yes, we’re a little crazy,” I agree. “But it’s the good kind, yeah?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
This time, it’s her who reaches for us and brushes her lips against mine. She pulls back, suddenly shy. “What?”
She bites down on her bottom lip. “We don’t have to go back to my hotel just yet, do we? We could go to your apartment. We still have time.”
My throat dries up. Suddenly, the semi I’ve been sporting this whole time becomes one hell of a hard-on.
I’m going to hate myself for this.
“There’s nothing I’d rather do. Believe me,” I emphasize, leaning in a bit closer to prove my point.
Her eyes blaze with intensity.
My dick twitches in delight.
Shit. This is backfiring.
I clear my throat to focus. “But you just asked to take this slow, and I’m going to try to honor that.” Even if it kills me. “Besides”—I give her a wolfish grin—“I’ve got to give you a reason to come back.”
She smiles ear to ear and then rises to her tippy toes to plant a soft kiss on my lips. “All right.” She gives me one more, but this time, her tongue sinks into my mouth, and I groan. “Sure, can’t I change your mind?” she whispers, her lips grazing my ear.
“Yes. Absolutely. I’ll go get the cab.”
Her melodic laughter fills the air. “Come on, Tour Guide, let’s take a photo to memorialize our street.”
I manage to put the reins on my lust-addled brain. She takes a photo on her phone because mine is still off, and she promises to send it to me. We head back to the hotel, but this time, there’s no silence. We’re back to our effortless chatter, and I feel good.
Well, better, at least.
I still don’t want her to leave, but I’m optimistic. I have no idea what the future holds. I don’t know when or how long my father will hold this grudge, but for the first time, I don’t really care.
Yes, I need to tell her about my other life, and I will, but even when I’m forced to return to the corporate office, I will be shadowing my father for years. It will be decades before he even considers retiring, and I have to face the challenges and expectations that come with his job.
For now, I can be Finn Larkin.
The time it takes to get to the hotel feels entirely too short. But I think Ash and I could spend another week strolling the streets of Dublin and still not run out of things to talk about.
By the time we get into the lobby, we’re both solemn. The upbeat attitude from our walk is gone, and Ash is fighting back tears.
“Hey.” I pull her into an empty hallway where the business center is. At this hour, it’s a ghost town. “This isn’t over, remember?”
“Promise?”
I lightly kiss her and brush away the tears that have fallen. “I promise, mo chroí.”
“Mo chroí? What does that mean?”
“Look it up when you get to your room,” I say, smiling softly.
She doesn’t provide any witty comeback. “I’m so glad I met you.”
“Even the second time?” I tease, attempting to lighten the mood.
“You were a little surly at first.”
“Only because I knew you were off-limits.”
Footsteps echo in the hallway as an employee walks by, juggling an armful of tablecloths. His eyes dart to us and then straight ahead as he attempts to pretend he’s not interrupting something incredibly personal.
We wait until he’s gone before either of us speaks again. “Call me?” I say awkwardly. “When you get to the airport. Or text me when you get home?”
She nods. “I’ll do both.”
“Good.” She appears nervous again, so I offer reassurance. “We’ll figure it all out, Ash. I meant what I said. This isn’t over.”
She wraps her arms around my neck, and I pull her into a tight hug. We stay like that, just holding each other for what feels like forever until, finally, she pulls back, her eyes rimmed with red. “I better let you go,” I say, knowing she’s having a hard time letting go. “You’ve got an early flight.”
I kiss her one last time, savoring the feel of her lips. I try to memorize the feel of her body, the taste of her tongue, and the sweet sounds she makes.
Eventually, we have to say goodbye, and when we do, it feels like I’m being ripped apart.
“Tá mo chroí istigh ionat,” I whisper in her ear before I walk away.
My heart is hers, and I know this is only the beginning.
I barely make it fifty feet out of the lobby before my whole world comes crashing down around me.
Powering up my phone, I go to text Ash to remind her to send me that photo. I find at least a dozen missed phone calls from my mother and a text that makes my blood run cold.
Mam
Your father had a stroke today. Please call me. We need you.
* * *
Aisling
Here is the photo I promised. It’s only been five minutes since I saw you, and I already miss you. Is that pathetic? Don’t answer that.
You know that was a joke, right? Lol. I didn’t mean that literally!
We’re at the airport now. Mom just bought me the biggest cup of coffee she could find. Not sure how to take that. Oh, and I’ve got my backpack full of chocolate. See attached photo. Don’t judge me.
You must still be sleeping. Was hoping to talk to you before I left, but I guess tour guides need their beauty sleep. I’ll talk to you when we land. Maybe we can FaceTime? On second thought, maybe not. My life is too pathetic to be viewed on camera.
Saved Voicemail:
Finn, hey. It’s Ash. Um, I’m home. Mom and I got home yesterday, actually. I’m not sure how this whole thing works, so I’m not trying to sound needy or anything, but are you okay? I haven’t heard from you since we said goodbye at the hotel. Nervous laughter I guess that was just two days ago. Never mind. You’re probably just busy. Call me when you’re free. Bye.
Aisling
It’s been a week, and I had this random thought that maybe something happened to you.
Like, maybe you were hurt in a car accident or, god forbid, died. But then I realized all of these texts show as read. Yeah, read receipts are a thing. So I guess you’re still alive. Good to know.
Saved voicemail:
You’re not even reading my texts anymore? What the hell is wrong with you? Ragged breath I looked up your stupid pet name, and you know what, Finn? You clearly don’t have a heart, because if you did, you wouldn’t have done this. You knew—muffled sob—you knew what I went through, and you…I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. Goodbye, Finn. Go find another girl to torment.