Chapter 15
Golden boy
Alex
The rhythm of normal life felt different now that it included someone else.
I settled back into my daily routine after Enzo and Finn left, but my phone buzzed with increasing regularity.
Finn’s texts arrived at predictable intervals.
Morning messages that came reliably at seven, afternoon check-ins that usually included photos of whatever he was doing, evening conversations that stretched longer than either of us probably intended.
The daily contact felt less like maintaining a performance and more like having a friend who genuinely wanted to know how my day had gone.
Finn: Dom dragged me to some networking thing. Said I need to expand my horizons. Currently hiding on a balcony while he schmoozes
The attached selfie had a view of the Hollywood Hills at sunset behind him. He had his aviators on along with a slight smile, looking relaxed and content for once. I smiled to myself, thinking about how he’d most likely spoken his text out loud where others could hear him.
Me: networking events are the 7th circle of hell.
Me: how long until you can escape?
Finn: Dom says another hour. I’m considering faking a migraine but that feels like cheating
Me: only if you actually fake it.
Me: if the crowd noise gives you a real one, that’s just biology.
Finn: Fair point. Entreating the gods for biological intervention
The easy back-and-forth made me smile despite myself.
His humor was drier through text, less careful than it was in person, and I looked forward to the small glimpses into his day.
Photos of him reading by Dom and Enzo’s pool, hiking trails in Runyon Canyon with captions about taking it slow, the occasional shot of whatever elaborate meal the boys made him try.
At Catalyst, Tabitha ’s research had reached detective investigation levels. Her desk accumulated stacks of printed reports, her laptop was perpetually open to multiple browser tabs, and she’d started scheduling twenty-minute “strategy sessions” that felt more like briefings.
“Foxtail Creative just opened a satellite office in Burbank,” Tabitha announced during one of our morning coffee meetings, sliding a folder across my desk. “They’re looking for animation partnerships with established studios. Could be interesting.”
I skimmed the summary, noting the employee count, revenue projections, the kind of collaborative project structure that might appeal to Casey. “What’s their timeline?”
“Flexible. They want to start conversations with three or four potential partners before making decisions,” Tabitha consulted her tablet. “I also found a consortium of indie game developers who are looking to pool resources for larger animation contracts. Very Catalyst-friendly philosophy.”
The relief of having alternatives felt like exhaling after holding my breath for weeks.
Oliver had stopped pacing during our morning check-ins, his shoulders gradually relaxing as Tabitha presented each new possibility.
Even Jordan’s obvious disappointment about the cooling Titan interest couldn’t dampen the sense that we’d regained our footing.
Though Jordan’s sulking had evolved into something more pointed.
Passive-aggressive comments about “missed opportunities” and “thinking too small” that earned sharp looks from Casey and eye rolls from Lennon.
I made a mental note to address it directly if it escalated into actual disruption.
Jason and Casey were still monitoring our systems, digging into anything that seemed out of the ordinary.
My family’s reaction to the relationship news had been predictably overdramatic. Mom called three times the day after I’d mentioned Finn during our weekly check-in, her voice pitching higher with each conversation as she processed the reality that I was finally dating someone.
“Sasha, honey, you didn’t tell me he was so handsome,” she’d gushed after I’d given in and sent her one of the selfies Finn had sent me.
“He’s Dom’s brother,” I’d responded flatly.
“And a Navy pilot! Tony’s going to want to talk to him about his service.”
I’d intentionally not mentioned the medical discharge part, figuring that was Finn’s story to tell when he met them.
“He seems lovely,” Mom had continued. “When do we get to meet him properly? Is he coming to the engagement party?”
The eager hope in her voice caught me off guard. She wasn’t just pleased that I was dating, but genuinely excited about the person I’d chosen. Like she’d been waiting for me to find someone she could approve of instead of just tolerate because I’d brought home anyone at all.
“We’ll see,” I’d said, which apparently translated to “absolutely yes” in mom-speak, because she’d immediately started planning menu modifications to accommodate whatever dietary restrictions Finn might have despite me telling her “none” multiple times.
Tony had been characteristically enthusiastic when he got on the phone.
“A pilot, Sasha! Qué maravilla! Your father would have loved meeting him.” My throat had tightened at his unexpected reference to Dad, but Tony had barreled on with his usual warmth.
“Te aviso. Your mother’s already planning to question him six ways to Sunday. ”
The family group chat had exploded with congratulations, emoji reactions, and demands for more photos. Even Diana had sent a grudgingly positive response, though I suspected that had more to do with Graham’s obvious irritation at the news than genuine sisterly support.
Finn’s family updates came through more gradually, woven into our daily conversations.
Finn: Mom asked about my mysterious girlfriend Lou mentioned to half the ranch
Me: mysterious girlfriend?
Me: are you stepping out on me?
Me: what did you tell her?
Finn: Not the cheating type darlin. Told her Lou has a big mouth and yes I’m dating someone amazing who makes me want to be better than I was before
The honesty made my breath catch. I stared at the message for a full minute before responding with a noncommittal thumbs-up emoji, not ready to examine why his words felt more like truth than pretend.
But his family’s interest created practical problems. His sister Elowyn had started asking pointed questions about what I did and when she’d get to meet me. His grandmother had begun making not-so-subtle hints about bringing me to Wyoming for a weekend.
“The thing is,” Finn said during one of our evening calls, “they’re asking about pictures of us. Actual couple photos, not just the group shots with our brothers or whatever else we happen to be at together. And Lou’s been... observant about the lack of romantic evidence on my social media.”
I was reorganizing my kitchen while we talked, a habit that had intensified since our arrangement began. “How observant?”
“She asked Dom if I was actually dating someone or just trying to get her to back off,” his voice carried dry humor. “Dom, being Dom, said he couldn’t comment on my romantic life without proper compensation.”
“What kind of compensation?”
“A video of me telling the internet that he’s the much cooler and better-looking brother. Apparently his ego can’t handle that your boyfriend is clearly the superior twin.”
The casual way he said “your boyfriend” made me pause mid-spice rack shuffling. We’d started using dating terms in conversations, testing how they felt in our mouths when nobody else was listening.
“We can probably pay him off with peanut M&Ms,” I joked, then added more seriously, “but the photo thing is a real issue. We should figure out a strategy before your family starts getting too suspicious.”
“Want to FaceTime about it tomorrow? I can show you some of the locations Dom’s been dragging me to. Might give us some ideas for believable couple shots.”
The suggestion made sense logically, but planning our fake relationship documentation over a video call felt more intimate than the casual daily texts.
“That works,” I agreed, then spent the rest of the call trying not to think about why the prospect of seeing him made my stomach flutter with excitement.
The next afternoon, Finn’s face filled my laptop screen from what looked like a coffee shop in West Hollywood, warm light streaming through large windows behind him.
“I was told this place has the best natural light,” he adjusted his position so the camera caught him at a flattering angle. “Dom’s been teaching me about ‘optimal selfie conditions’ whether I wanted to learn or not.”
“Hollywood’s corrupting you,” I teased, settling back in my office chair. Through the camera mounted on top of my monitor, I could see my own image in the corner, the professional lighting from my office setup, the soft ambient glow from windows now facing away from the afternoon sun.
“Completely. I know what golden hour is now. It’s tragic,” he grinned and then leaned in. “Hey, you wore your hair down.”
My brain short-circuited at his notice, and I touched a lock that had fallen over my shoulder, pulling gently and wrapping it around my fingers. My inability to leave it alone was the main reason I wore it up so much.
“So, strategy session?” He continued when I couldn’t think of how to respond.
We spent the next hour mapping out photo opportunities.
Finn showed me several locations where Dom had dragged him for “expanding his cultural horizons.” Art galleries with interesting architecture, hiking trails with city views, restaurants with romantic ambiance.
I pulled up my own calendar, noting family events and work-related functions where couple photos would be expected.
“The family engagement party is the big debut on my side,” I made notes on my phone. “Everyone’s going to expect us to look completely smitten with each other.”
“How hard can it be?” Finn’s voice was full of easy confidence. “We already look pretty comfortable together.”