Chapter Seventeen #2
“What does Dylan say?” Mel asks hesitantly.
Hattie makes a scathing sound that is part laugh, part sob. “He keeps saying we’ll figure it out and that we need to talk about it—but he’s expecting me to come round, I think.”
“Well, maybe you should give it a chance? Try talking a bit more?” She hates how unsure she sounds.
But who is she, to be able to offer relationship advice, after what happened with Finn?
And here she is, attempting to do so for the second time in twelve hours.
Her stomach squirms as she thinks of Kristen, of the secret she’s hiding.
“What will Mum say if we cancel the wedding?” Hattie whispers, and Mel knows her mind has jumped ahead to the worst possible conclusion.
“One step at a time,” Mel says firmly—though Hattie doesn’t seem to be listening to her.
“Me and Mum used to talk weddings all the time. I know it’s silly, like some sort of cliché, but it’s true.
I always wanted the chance to plan my own wedding with her.
For her as well as me, you know?” Hattie takes a steadying breath.
“Though it’s weird, actually, because Mum doesn’t seem to want to be involved as much as I thought she would be.
” She frowns, her eyes turning to Mel’s.
“Maybe that’s because she doesn’t think Dylan is right.
Maybe she’s always thought it wouldn’t last.”
“I’m sure that’s not it,” Mel says firmly. “I think you just need to take a beat—that’s all.”
Hattie taps her fingers against the kitchen counter. “She was like that with all of Finn’s girlfriends—before you. Mum, I mean. Like she knew they wouldn’t stick around.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Mel says, a touch of impatience rising up in her despite her best efforts.
She has no right to be impatient here, no right to be anything other than supportive.
But she doesn’t want to hear the comparison to Finn.
Doesn’t want to hear how Susan thought Mel was different—because she was wrong, wasn’t she?
“I used to be jealous of you and Finn,” Hattie says with a sigh. “You were always on the same page about everything. I remember Finn telling me it was just like that, almost from the moment you met. It’s why it never made sense to me, you guys breaking up.”
Maybe Hattie hasn’t been judging her for getting back together with Finn, then. Maybe she’s been wondering why things ended between them instead.
“He broke up with me,” Mel points out, and can’t help the defensive tone, despite the role she is supposed to be playing.
“Well, yeah. I guess.” Hattie cocks her head, considering Mel—and apparently distracted enough to forget her own dilemma. “I guess you talked about it—whatever it was he was so worried you were keeping from him?”
“Ah…” What the hell does that mean? What she was keeping from him? He had been keeping things from her, not the other way around. Like how he had quit his job, how he had never liked said job, or London, or settling down. How he’d decided things were over between them, before telling her.
Hattie must see something on her face, because she grimaces. “Sorry, Mel. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s fine,” Mel says quickly. Because in this scenario—the one where she and Finn are back together and happy again—they probably would have talked about it, wouldn’t they? Whatever it is—if there even is an “it,” and it’s not some excuse he offered to Hattie.
She clears her throat. “Yeah. We talked about it.”
But this is all going to come out, isn’t it, when she breaks up with him.
It will become clear she’s been lying in some way, won’t it?
And, God, she’s not sure she wants to let all his family down like that.
Hattie and Susan. Will the revenge be worth it?
She didn’t bloody think it through, did she?
Maybe she should talk to Finn about it. But if she doesn’t break up with him at the end of the holiday, then she’ll just leave, without being able to say goodbye properly.
A mess. That’s what this is. A bloody mess.
“I suppose I should go back upstairs,” Hattie says on a sigh. “Maybe he’ll have fallen back asleep and we can postpone any further mention of the subject for now.”
“Yeah,” Mel says. “Maybe.” Though she very much imagines Dylan is up there, figuring out what to say to her. It’s what she would be doing, if she were him. Though he didn’t follow Hattie downstairs—so maybe he knows her well enough to know she needs a bit of space, time to process.
After climbing the stairs for the second time this morning, Mel creeps back into the bedroom and tries her best not to fall over Finn.
She notices the way his breathing has changed as she lies down.
She wishes she wasn’t so attuned to it—but now she knows he’s awake, she can’t help whispering into the dark.
“Finn?”
“Yeah?” His voice is husky from sleep.
“You’re awake.”
“Yeah.” She can hear the slight smile in his voice.
She thinks of what Hattie said, that it never made sense to her, why they broke up.
So it hadn’t been obvious to everyone but her that Finn was falling out of love with her, then.
It brings a rush of relief, though it doesn’t make the fact of it any less real.
She can’t help thinking, too, of Hattie’s idea that Finn had thought she was keeping something from him.
“Finn?”
“Mmm?”
She opens her mouth. But she can’t ask. She’s not sure she’s allowed to ask anymore—or if asking will take them into dangerous territory. So instead she says, “You can sleep on the bed, you know. For the next couple of hours, I mean.”
She expects him to refuse again. But the tension from last night seems to have dissipated a little and she hears the creak of wooden flooring, then the scent and heat of him. Feels her body settle a little, as his essence wraps around her.
“Finn?” she says, one more time, trying to gather her courage.
“Yes, Mel?”
But what if there’s not a reason—or, at least, not a reason she wants to hear? “It snowed last night,” she says in the end.
“That’s cool.” She senses the curve of his lips. “We’ll have to build a snowman.”
And, gradually, she lets her body fall back to sleep, carving out a few more hours of rest before the household wakes up.