Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Theo has a secret, and he hasn’t told her, which means my head is spinning at the possibilities. Did he cheat on her? Does he have cold feet?
By the time the door clicks shut behind us, the space between us feels a mile wide.
Finn slips off his shoes. “You want the bathroom first, or—“
“I heard you.” I spin, wobbling on my heels.
Finn goes still, one hand on his collar button. “Heard me what?”
“Behind the pillar. After the rehearsal.” I set my tablet on the desk. “You and Theo. You have to tell her before Saturday. Before the vows.” I cross my arms over my chest to hold in my pounding heart. “I’m assuming you were talking about Dahlia, so what does he need to tell her?”
Finn blows out a breath. “It's not mine to tell.”
“Of course it's not. But I need you to tell me.”
“Harper—“
“My sister is getting married in three days.” I don’t mean to pause, but my voice wobbles. I take a breath and swallow the lump in my throat. “If he cheated on her—“
“No, Harper.” Finn takes my hand and leads me to his bed. We sit, and Finn hunches over his knees. “He didn’t cheat on her. It’s nothing like that.”
“Then why can’t he tell her?”
Finn is silent, his jaw working.
My voice frays. “I'm so tired, Finn. I'm not mad, I'm just scared for her.”
He looks at his hands for a long time. Finally, he says, “Money.”
I lift my head.
“Theo's engineering firm took a hit last year. A big client walked, and then a second one, and he leveraged stuff to cover payroll.” His thumb runs along a callus on his palm, back and forth. “It got away from him.”
“And he hasn't told Dahlia? Any of it?”
He shakes his head. “I think she knows about the clients. She doesn’t know the rest.”
I curse under my breath. “It’s not the money that will—”
“No, I know. Trust me.”
We sit there thinking the exact same thing. It’s not only the money that will break her. It’s that Theo’s been keeping a secret. Just like my dad did.
“That's why you thought they should wait,” I murmur.
Finn nods and rakes a hand through his hair. “Theo’s going to kill me.”
“Well, I’m going to kill Theo, so . . . “
Finn laughs. “The thing is, he’s a great guy. He loves her.”
“Yeah. I know.” I should feel relief that it wasn’t something worse, but dread sits in my stomach like a brick of ice.
I press my hand flat against my chest. “We already lived this and saw how it ends. It ends with your mom driving forty minutes to buy groceries and your sister crying into a pillow when she gets off the school bus.”
Finn bites his lower lip. “Maybe that’s one ending.”
I give him a look, and he holds up his hands. “I don’t pretend to know anything about what you went through. But . . .” He plants his palms on my shoulders and presses down so my muscles will relax. “What if your mom found out first?”
“She would’ve lost her mind.”
“I know, but what if he admitted it and stopped?”
I ponder that, imagining an alternate version of events. “I don’t think he would’ve.” Considering that he’s never given me an apology, even after he got out of prison.
“Exactly.” Finn’s hands are still on me, and I can’t help but melt into them a little. Just like there’s something about him that makes my hackles rise, there’s also a lot about him that affects me like a mug of hot cocoa.
“You think Theo will make changes.”
Finn nods, his hands lift, his pinkies barely grazing my arms as he pulls back. “He’s not doing anything wrong. He’s just embarrassed.”
I frown as a thought occurs to me. “Wait, did he tell you? Or did you find out?”
He leans back on his pillow, dropping his legs on my thighs.
I grunt, and Finn laughs. “I’m not that heavy.”
“Whatever! Your legs are like tree trunks.”
“Wow, way to fat-shame me.”
I laugh so hard I snort. Then, as I’m trying to push him off, a rush of emotion rolls through my chest, and my laugh transitions to the beginnings of a sob. Not a nice, quiet cry. An ugly, this-has-to-get-out-of-my-body now kind of cry.
“Whoa, hey.” Finn’s legs disappear, and he sits, pulling me against his side. That only makes it worse, and once again, I find myself crying into Finn Gallagher’s chest.
He wraps around me, and I barely notice when he pulls me horizontal, our bodies lining up like two halves of a folded letter. Finn’s hand moves slowly between my shoulder blades while I purge my emotions for a second time.
“I’m not usually like this,” I choke out.
“I was going to say—”
“Do not say I used to be more fun.”
His laugh rumbles through me. “No, see? That was fun. I really think you’re finding yourself.”
I try to smack him, but my arms are pinned. “I’m getting your shirt wet.”
“It's Theo's shirt.”
“Why are you wearing Theo’s shirt?”
“He owes me. And I forgot mine.”
“For the rehearsal or the wedding?”
He scoffs. “Not the wedding. What kind of psychopath do you take me for?” His hand moves high enough, his fingers run over bare skin, and I shiver. “Just couldn’t wear the same thing to both. Need to make an impression.”
“On who?”
“The bridesmaids, obviously.”
This time, I succeed in pushing back far enough to slap his chest with the back of my hand. “You’re the worst, you know that? You’ve already made them fall in love with you. That’s all they were talking about at the pool.”
I prop myself on one forearm and wipe the tears from my cheeks.
“I don’t know why you stopped there.” He smirks.
“What? You want to know what they said?”
“In detail, please.”
I roll my eyes, but he holds tight, and I fall back onto his chest. His face is right there, his eyes moving over my wrecked mascara.
Then, I don’t know how or why or who, but my lips land on Finn’s, and everything inside me sighs like a hot tea kettle. His hand comes up to cradle my jaw as I taste the salt from my tears on his lips.
And as if we’re struck by lightning, we both shoot apart. Me, straightening to my knees. Him, sitting ramrod straight, his back flattened to the wall, acting as his headboard.
“Uh—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“I’m sorry. I don’t—”
“No, it’s—”
“Thank you for—”
“Yeah, no. Of course.”
“I’m going to—” I scramble off of him, spinning in a circle like there are more directional options in this shoebox of a room than across to my bed or to the bathroom. “Bathroom. I’ll get ready for bed.”
“Mhmm.” He holds a pillow over his lap, and I spin before he notices that I noticed.
Holy crap. Holycrapholycrapholycrap. I shut the door to the bathroom and realize I didn’t bring in my pajamas.
I do what I can, starting with my face. I use cleanser twice because the first round barely touches my smeared mascara. When I see myself in the mirror, my stomach flips. My lips are flushed, my cheeks pink.
You kissed Finn Gallagher. I send it through the ether as an accusation, but the woman in the mirror looks wholly unrepentant. I grimace, remembering this isn’t the first time I’ve done this. The last time, I was barely wearing a training bra, and we never spoke of it again.
I brush my teeth. Rinse. Do my full skincare routine since it’s the only thing standing between me and re-entering the room with Finn. When I finish, I lean against the counter.
My sweatpants and tank top are sitting on the end of my bed. I consider my options. I could sleep in this sundress. I could stay in this bathroom until Saturday. Quite tempting, if I’m honest. I could change while Finn uses the bathroom.
I crack the door instead, hoping that a logistical necessity will break the ice. “Hey. Can you—“
A tank top and gray sweats appear through the gap, dangling from one hand. “Figured.”
“Thank you.” I snatch them. Then, because I'm me and my mouth has a compliance problem, I say, “Were you standing there holding my pajamas?”
“I was going to knock.”
I shut the door on him and catch myself in the mirror, smiling like a lunatic.
When I come out, the main light's off and Finn’s back in his bed, shirtless, covers to the waist, an arm behind his head, eyes on his phone.
I go to hang my dress up in the closet and bash my shin on the desk chair.
“Didn’t know you used words like that, Quinn.” Finn looks at me, hunched over, rubbing my leg.
“Shut up.”
He smirks, and just like that, we’re back to normal.
Kind of. Exactly as it played out when we were kids.
It wasn’t a good idea then, and it certainly isn’t one now.
He still flirts exactly like he used to, and we live in different states.
What do I think is going to happen? That we’ll somehow fall in love and upend our lives to be together?
We’re at a wedding. We’re trapped in a room together.
Both of us have romance on the brain, and I’m an emotional wreck.
I’m surprised we haven’t made some sort of pact to use each other’s bodies as emotional support for one week only.
I’m grateful Finn’s in the bathroom when I have that thought, otherwise I may have said it out loud.
After Finn finishes his nighttime routine and gets back in bed, he flicks off his reading light.
Not relishing the idea of him staring at me from the dark, I do the same and set my book on the floor.
We lie there in the pitch black, and my body tunes in to every sound he makes.
The rush of his breath. The whisper of his body against the sheets.
“Tomorrow,” he says, nearly making me jump.
“Hm?”
“Cozumel.”
“Uh, right. The Jeep thing.”
“Where are we going again?”
Dahlia and Theo made this plan. Originally, I wasn’t a huge fan of me being invited along with the three of them, but it meant a lot to Dahlia. And six hours sounded manageable. You know, when I wasn’t going to be spending every damn minute with Finn.
“We’re going to that beach on the far side of the island. Snorkeling. I was bribed with a promise of tacos.”
“Obviously.”
I grin to myself in the dark. Tacos used to be Finn’s favorite food. I wonder if they still are.
“Just thinking about whether I can fit in a run before we disembark,” he says.
“Hm. Pondering the mysteries of the universe.”
He chuckles. “‘Night, Harper.”
“Goodnight, Finn.”