Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
First thing in the morning, I get a message from Pam.
Hi hon, so sorry for the late msg.
I double-checked bc I know you didn't call it in, but releases have to come from the wedding party. I don't have a name on the log, just the request time and that it was verified. Everything ok? Was the rehearsal canceled?
I'm staring at the screen in shock when the cabin door swings open and Finn comes in from his run. He’s flushed, breathing hard, shirt stuck to his chest, and carrying two cups of coffee.
Every word from last night floods back into my head. I shrink and pull the covers up an inch like they'll protect me from the accusations I spewed.
“Morning.” He sets the coffee on the counter.
I should say something. An apology probably, or at least a thank you for the drink, but what comes out instead is, “Someone canceled the room I booked for the rehearsal.”
He frowns, then rounds the end of his bed. I turn the phone around and watch him read Pam's message. He smells like sweat, but not in a bad way. Like sun-soaked skin and gym mats. The sound of his breath sends tingles down my spine.
When he’s finished reading, he steps back. “Give me ninety seconds.”
* * *
Pam meets us on the top deck at 7:58 a.m. Though I met her when I first boarded the ship, she was more made up.
That time, she wore a tight bun, fake eyelashes, and full makeup.
Now her hair hangs loose. Dyed blond with grey roots.
She’s got eighties bangs, and the only makeup she has on is electric blue eyeliner. I love this version of her.
“I want you to know I pulled the log the second I got in, but there’s no name,” she says. “I already talked to our team member who took the request. I’m so sorry. It has to be a miscommunication—”
“Not your fault,” Finn puts a hand on her shoulder, his dimples on full display.
I roll my eyes on instinct, then hope he doesn’t catch it. The last thing I want to do right now is be more of a jerk to him. Even if he is kind of proving one of my many points from last night.
While he was showering, I texted Pam and told her the rehearsal was still on—there wasn’t a cancellation. Dahlia wasn’t awake when I tried to call, but she would’ve told me last night if there’d been a change of plans. Right?
Pam’s cheeks warm. “Well. I can assure you, we’ll do whatever we can to make this right.” She pushes on the doors in front of us, and—
“Wow.” I exhale as we walk in. This was the backup option?
She’d called it a lounge, but it looks more like a chapel.
Two stories of glass curving with the stern, the whole back of the ship framing the wide, blue water behind us like a painting.
Even at eight in the morning, the light comes in slanted and honeyed.
“It's yours at four if you want it,” Pam says. “It's the only opening on the vessel, and I had to trade the yacht club two hours in the theater to get it.”
“Pam. At this point, I owe you my first-born child.”
“Oh, honey.” She laughs and squeezes my arm, then click-clacks back to the door. “Take your time. Just stop by guest services when you’re done and let me know what you decide. I’ll make the adjustments with the staff.”
The door shuts behind her, and I do a slow turn in the middle of the room. “Chairs in five rows there, aisle down the middle, band tucks behind the pillar.” I point with my chin. “It's better than the ballroom. Whoever canceled may have done us a favor.”
“Hm.” Finn shoves his hands in his pockets. “And you said this is cheaper?”
I nod. “Yeah. By almost $1000.”
His eyebrows lift. “Because, Pam?”
I laugh. “Partially.” Pam felt so bad that they didn’t have a record of who made the cancellation and therefore couldn’t prove that all their processes were followed correctly, she gave us a discount.
I run my hand over the wooden bar. “It’s funny. When we first started planning, I suggested doing the rehearsal at the hotel in Miami before we left because it was so much cheaper, but Dahlia shut it down.”
I was still thinking about what Finn said last night. This morning, with more of a level head, I can see why Finn may not have wanted to say more without it being a personal attack. If he knew something about Dahlia and Theo’s finances that I didn’t know, there was probably a reason for that.
“Do you think one of them canceled to try and save money?” I pin him with a stare, hunting for any change in his expression.
Finn only wets his lips. “Do you think that makes sense?”
“I’m asking you, Finn.”
He raises an eyebrow, and I immediately think of his comment last night. If that nickname bothered you that much, maybe at some point in the last fifteen years, you should’ve asked why I gave it to you.
Heat rises up my neck, and I yelp when something buzzes against my butt. Finn chuckles as I yank my phone from my pocket. I stare at the text, hoping my face will drain from tomato to Dahlia’s favorite shade of blush before I have to look at him.
Dahlia
Sry! Went to sleep late!! All good? pool at 10?? bring priya!!
I shouldn’t be annoyed by the number of exclamation points, but given the morning I’ve had, it all feels a bit pretentious. Would Dahlia do something like this if she thought Theo was stressed about money? Was it coming from our mother? She was definitely weird, obsessing over those sugar packets.
I cross my arms and let out a deep breath. None of those explanations make sense of the slideshow.
“Alright, well. Anything else you need from me?” Finn rocks on his heels. He looks so hot in his shorts and flip-flops.
“No. I think this is great. I can go talk to Pam and get things sorted.” I didn’t technically ask him to come with me, and even though he’s offered to help multiple times, I’m sure he wants some time to enjoy himself.
Plus, I want that time with Dahlia to see if I can get anything from her.
Find out what the hell is happening with this wedding.
He nods and starts toward the door, but when his hand hits the handle, I somehow grow the spine I should’ve found last night.
“Finn?”
He stops and turns his head.
“I’m sorry. About what I said last night. Well, more how I said it.” I pause, trying to gather my thoughts, but it all just comes out in a rush. “I don’t hate you, and none of this is your fault. This isn’t who I am normally. I am fun sometimes, I think. I’m just having trouble—”
I don’t notice him walking closer until his hands land on my arms, holding me together like a cold cut sandwich. “I know.”
My shoulders almost touch my earlobes as I look up. “You do?”
He nods. “Trash night.”
“What?”
“Trash night. The fall when everything happened.” His thumbs move once against my arms. “It was raining. I was taking our cans down to the street, and I heard your garage open. You were dragging both bins down the driveway at once because you wouldn't make two trips.”
“I hated making two trips.”
Finn laughs. “Yeah, I know. I offered to take one of the cans off you.”
“You did?”
He nods and purses his lips. “Yep.”
I rifle through my memories, trying to pull this one up, but can’t find it. “What did I say?” Based on his expression, I doubt it was good.
“You said something to the effect of, ‘Why? So you can tell people how much we’re struggling? Can’t even take our bins to the street?”
My eyes widen. “Seriously?” I blink. I think it's coming back. The wet cardboard smell, the can with the cracked lid, his porch light behind him.
Finn’s mouth tips up at the corner, and his hands slide lower on my arms, settling just above my elbows. “I asked—”
“If I wanted you to stay out there for a while.” Because I loved sitting in the rain. I can’t remember the last time I did that.
“And you said, ‘It’s fine. You can go back to your perfect house.’”
I wince. Not only did I not remember saying that, but my recollection was Finn mocking me. Thinking it was pathetic that I was taking out the trash since my dad should’ve been there to do it.
But what if it didn’t happen that way?
A slow panic drums in my middle, rising in frequency with every heartbeat.
Finn drops his arms. “Uh . . .” He looks down, his mouth ticking. “If you want, I can—”
“No, it’s okay.” I step back. “I’m just—I’m sorry that this is apparently a pattern. I’ll figure out how to stop taking my anger and emotional immaturity out on you.”
Finn was there after Dad left. He came over and asked to stay, and I told him to go back home. Had that happened more than once? Was this who I was? Someone who blamed everyone else when I couldn’t handle my crap?
Finn must see something in my expression because he smiles and steps back. “I mean, I don’t think you can do that much damage.”
“No?”
He shakes his head. “If your verbal holds are as good as your physical ones.”
Holds. It takes me a minute, and then I get it and laugh out loud. “That’s your statement? You know I beat you at Theo’s!”
That was the last summer before Dad left. Theo made a wrestling ring in his living room with his sister’s gymnastic mats and theater stanchions.
Finn raises his arms with a shrug. “I never tapped out.”
“You totally tapped out!”
Finn pulls the door open. “I don’t know, Harp. Without a rematch, the results aren’t definitive.”