Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“Right. But the thing is the business hasn’t been working for a while now.
” She opens her eyes, tucks her hair behind her ears.
“Well, that’s not exactly right. It’s working—it’s just not working for me.
It’s too much,” she says, her voice quiet.
“I am tired all the time. I constantly feel like I’m on edge, like one wrong move and everything will come tumbling down.
I started it all because I loved designing and making jewelry.
But I don’t even do that anymore—I can’t remember the last time I did.
And all I know how to do is keep going, keep trying to make it work, keep proving that I can do it, but at some point I know I’m not going to be able to do that anymore.
” She lets the words out on a rush, only now really admitting it to herself, as well as to him.
He is staring at her. “But if you’re struggling, why didn’t you say?”
“Because!” She throws her hands into the air. “Because you loved me! Because my parents were proud of me. Because everyone is always saying what a bloody inspiration I am. And I didn’t want to prove anyone wrong. I didn’t want to let anyone down. I still don’t.”
Finn closes the distance between them with one step. In the distance, there is the sound of an owl calling somewhere in the forest.
He reaches down, places his hands on either side of her neck.
She shivers with the cold and with the feel of his skin on hers.
“You could never let anyone down, Mel. Jesus, you could never let me down. Of course I’m proud of you.
Of course your parents are. But you’re an inspiration whether the business succeeds or fails.
You’re an inspiration because you took something you loved and made a go of it—because you tried, Mel, and because you’ve made it work.
Even if it all falls through now, even if Lillian hadn’t wanted to work with you, even if the whole thing folded after six months of you setting it up, everyone would still be proud of you. ”
She closes her eyes. “I won’t be able to do it. I can’t do what Lillian wants and still run the business the way I do now.”
“You’ll figure it out,” he says firmly. “There will be a way to make it work and, if there isn’t, if something has to give, then that’s okay too. Everyone around you wants it to work because they love you, because they think it’ll make you happy. Not because they have expectations.”
Mel hitches in a breath as she opens her eyes, looks up at him. “I was a wreck when you left, you know. A wreck. ” Her voice wobbles as she says it. “I’ve been a wreck for months now.”
One of his hands moves down her back and she feels his fingers tighten there.
“I’m so sorry, Mel. If it helps, I have been a wreck too.
” He presses his forehead against hers and she closes her eyes, breathing him in.
“It’s been hell without you,” he murmurs, and there it is again, that damn lump in her throat.
They stay there, her hands on his arms, his on her back, cold pressing in around them. Then Mel pulls back, bites her lip. “So what now?”
Finn rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I know I screwed up. I’m so sorry for hurting you.” Mel nods, not quite trusting herself to speak. “And at the end of the day, we still want different things—we’re still in different places. At the end of this, you’ll go back to London, won’t you?”
“But…for now?” His eyes are unmoving on hers, and she thinks he knows what she’s asking. Right now, when it is just them, when all of this is out in the open and they still have two more days with each other before real life catches up with them—can they do it? Can they just be them?
For a moment, there is quiet, a faint skittering of wind over frozen ground. Neither of them moves. Neither of them looks away, even as the air between them throbs and tightens, and Mel’s breath hitches.
Then, she’s not sure who closes the distance between them, but somehow her mouth is on his, his arms coming around her.
She groans at the sheer relief of it, of being able to taste, to touch, and feels his fingers tighten their grip.
He moves her backward, his thigh coming between her legs, so that she is pinned between him and the car.
She wants to feel his hands on her skin—but there are far too many clothes between them, and she whimpers with frustration as she tugs uselessly at his coat.
He lets out a soft laugh against her mouth, nipping gently at her bottom lip. “I don’t think this is the ideal place for this, Mel.”
“Why not?” Her voice is low, a little breathless. The weight of him is pressed against her as she leans against the car door, but it’s not nearly enough. “There’s a perfectly good car here.”
He laughs, though it hitches as she moves her mouth back to his, threading her hands through his hair.
He moves his mouth to her jawline, his lips leaving behind pinpricks of heat, and she hums an approving sound.
His hands move down to the backs of her thighs, gripping them so her pelvis tilts up, and she feels the low, gratifying ache spread there.
His mouth moves to her earlobe, and she feels the rough scrape of his jaw against her skin.
A tingle spread downs her spine, and her hand moves to the handle of the door behind her.
But he pulls back, letting go of her thighs to brace his hands on either side of her head.
His breathing is ragged as she blinks up at him, his eyes as dark as the night sky around them.
“Much as I don’t want to stop, we can’t have sex in the backseat of a car.”
“Can’t see why not,” she says, reaching up to toy with the zip on his coat.
“Well, it’s not our car, for one.” She wrinkles her nose at that. “And, for another, it’s fucking freezing.”
“I’m sure I’ll warm right up once you’re inside me.
” At the side of her head, his hands clench into fists, and his gaze drops to her mouth in a kind of predatory focus.
His hands move, traveling slowly down her body, then inching, tauntingly slowly, under her coat, under her jumper beneath, until finally they find skin.
All the time he watches her, and she’s not sure if it’s the look in his eyes or the feel of his hands that makes her shiver.
“Case in point,” he says, his voice low, just on the edge of a smirk.
He pulls away, closing his eyes briefly as if waging some internal battle.
Then he rests his forehead against hers, places his hands on her waist. “Later,” he murmurs, his breath caressing her cheek.
She feels a flood of liquid warmth at the sound of that one word, the promise there.
She swallows and pulls back far enough so he can see her expression, the intent in her eyes. Then she nods. “Later.”