Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
I wake up at nine-forty in the morning wrapped around Finn Gallagher. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept past eight in the past five years, but the cabin is dark, and the engines are humming. If I didn’t have to pee, I probably could’ve slept for another two hours.
Finn’s unconscious underneath me, one arm beneath my neck and the other resting on my back. We have no plans today, and my bladder isn’t fully ready to explode, so I stay on the pillow and watch him.
“Hi,” Finn mumbles into the pillow, eyes still shut.
“Hi.”
His mouth curves before his eyes open. His thumb draws lazy swoops across my skin. When his lids finally lift, he finds my face. “Big plans today?”
I nod and kiss his shoulder. “I was thinking a movie and grilled cheese?”
Finn moans and pulls me onto his chest. “I’ve never heard something so sexy.”
* * *
Dahlia and Theo reserved loungers for most of the wedding party at the pool in the afternoon. When I get there, the two of them are relaxing in matching sunglasses. Theo keeps announcing that Dahlia’s his wife. “My wife would like a lemonade!” Married twenty hours and insufferable.
Rhys and Garrett run a poker game under an umbrella, and Priya winds through the bridesmaid section carrying the bag of gag gifts from the bachelorette party. She drops anatomical straws in everyone’s drink she can reach, regardless of whether they’re in our party or not.
Sadie glances at my phone and sees that I’m closing out my tabs. “Wait, is that a resource allocation matrix? Show me.” And it turns out Sadie negotiates supplier contracts for a medical device company. Within four minutes we’re deep in the weeds about vendor leverage.
“Ew,” Marisol shakes her head. “Give me blood and guts any day.” Marisol’s an ER charge nurse, and from the few stories she told over the weekend, she sounds like a pretty good one.
When they pop up to get pool snacks, Dahlia turns to me. “You like my friends now?”
I laugh. “What?”
Dahlia lowers her glasses on her nose.
“Hey, I’ve always liked your friends. But . . . maybe I like them a little more when they’re not hitting on Finn.”
She smirks. “They’re still going to hit on him.”
“Feels different.”
Dahlia takes a long drink of her pina colada. “This might be something you need to unpack in therapy.”
“I don’t know. Feels pretty healthy that I hate-crush on other women when I’m not getting what I want.”
Dahlia snorts, then straightens in her chair as Theo arrives with a plate of fries. “Thank you, babe.”
Theo drops onto his chair. “We need to eat five meals a day so we can eat less when we get home.”
“Wait, didn’t you already get married? You can get fat now,” I tease.
Theo actually smiles at the joke. “More like, I need to be less poor.”
Dahlia doesn’t even blink. “We're building the comeback plan. Theo made a spreadsheet. I wondered if you’d want to contribute to the color coding?”
My eyes light up. “Yes, please.”
Dahlia grins. “Harder to be depressed about a consolidation loan when it’s ‘raspberry sorbet.’”
“My entire life strategy in a nutshell.”
“June was the worst month,” Theo says.
Dahlia sighs. “And it makes so much more sense why you weren’t sleeping.”
“July was better?” I ask.
Theo nods. “But really only because of Finn.”
I frown. “How so?”
Theo exhales. “I called him, not to ask, I swear. Just to talk. He asked how much I needed, and I told him.”
Dahlia’s eyes are wide. “That was the loan?”
Theo nodded. “He’s never mentioned it, but I’m going to pay him back.”
Across the deck, the man in question appears in his swim trunks and T-shirt. He fills up a cup with water and ice, then heads our direction. Priya catches him first and drops a straw into his drink.
Finn hugs Theo, then settles onto my lounger and examines the favor at length. “The craftsmanship is actually not bad.” He takes a sip through it, and I just can’t.
“But the cantilever,” I say, and he laughs.
“Again, I'm amazed it's load-bearing.”
* * *
Dad finds me at the stern rail at six, while Finn's back in the cabin showering off the chlorine. He’s been orbiting me and Dahlia all day.
“I’m not going to keep you.” He puts his hands on the rail three feet away and looks at the water. For a moment he's just a middle-aged man in a golf shirt.
“I wrote you a letter,” he says. “Both of you. It's not an explanation. I’ve been working a program. So it’s everything I know I took from you, and I don't mean money.”
He sets an envelope on the rail between us, one hand holding it flat. “You don't have to read it. You don't have to do anything with it.”
I look at my name on the back in the handwriting that I used to see on my permission slips before I learned to falsify Mom’s.
I take it from him even though I’m not sure I want to read it. But I don’t feel the urge to throw it overboard, so that’s something.
“I’m not sure I can forgive you,” I say.
He lets out a puff of air. “Well, that makes two of us.” He taps the rail, then turns to walk away.
My throat thickens. “I’m glad you got to see this.”
He pauses and turns back. “Me, too.”
My heart breaks as he walks across the deck, weaving through families at the pool. I think of Theo and Dahlia. Of the mistakes all of us have made. And that hole inside of me shrinks by a fraction.
* * *
Bright and early in the morning, over three thousand people get off the Dreamboat Aurora, and seventy-three of them have survived Dahlia’s wedding.
The gangway is chaos. Antsy toddlers, sunburnt adults, and luggage carts.
My mom tied cans to Dahlia’s suitcase and slapped a “Just Married” sign on the back, so we’re met with cheers the whole way down.
In the terminal, we find a quiet corner to say our goodbyes. Dahlia hugs me so tight, my spine cracks. We both laugh and look at each other through teary eyes.
“Have an incredible mini-moon,” I say.
“Eat the Cuban food,” Finn leans over to interject.
“Theo has your list.” Dahlia laughs.
“Harper, quick question.” Aunt Bev appears at my elbow with a cruise pamphlet. “Is this saying we can get a discount if—”
“Probably best to ask a staff member,” I say, my desire to be in charge completely beaten out of me. I give her a hug. “Love you, Aunt Bev.”
Mom squeezes us both and rushes for a taxi, and just like that, Finn and I are standing alone on the curb. Our flights are both later in the day, so we’re in no rush.
“No tablet, Perry?” Finn asks, nudging my hip.
I give him a look. “I’ll have you know, I haven’t busted it out in over twenty-four hours.”
“Hm.” He smirks, and I want to kiss his dimples. “So what’s the plan?”
I tilt my face toward the sky, letting the morning Florida sun warm my skin. “I don’t know, Gallagher. I don’t think I have one.”