Chapter 19
The Chaos Machine has nothing on family traditions
Alex
I woke to sunlight streaming through my bedroom windows and the immediate, visceral memory of Finn’s hands on my skin, his voice saying, “good girl,” his mouth on my...
I shook my head and sat up, heat flooding my face (and body) at the way I’d completely lost control on my own couch like some kind of desperate teenager. But it had been good. Really good.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Tabitha: Hey, just reminding you that you have a call with the VP of Animation Atelier at 8:30.
I responded with a thumbs-up as Holly’s name appeared at the top of the screen with a text that made me groan.
Holly: The twins are BEGGING me to ask if you and Finn want to come to their dance recital tonight. I told them I’d ask but no pressure obviously! 7pm at the middle school near us.
I stared at the message. I’d forgotten about Madison and the twins’ dance recital. My stomach did a somersault.
I heard the toilet flush in the main bathroom and decided to get up as well. I pulled my robe on and padded down the hall.
Finn stood at the counter, wearing nothing but dark red boxer briefs and a t-shirt, straining the cold brew he’d made last night into a pitcher. Two glasses and the carton of oatmilk sat on the counter next to him.
“Morning,” he smiled. “I assume you take your cold brew sans ice, but yes milk?”
“Yes please,” I moved behind him to get a couple of bowls, spoons, and the granola cereal I ate on mornings I was tired of eggs. “Cereal okay for breakfast?”
“Whatever works for you is fine by me, darlin’,” he poured coffee into both glasses. I set the bowls on the island counter and poured cereal into them before picking a banana from my fruit bowl, grabbing a knife and slicing half of it on top of one of them.
“Banana?”
“Sounds great.”
I sliced the other half on top of the second bowl as Finn hummed to himself, filling the rest of one glass with oatmilk and stirring it with a long spoon. The domesticity of it all was soothing. Instead of feeling mortified by my behavior last night, I felt… happy. Maybe a little mortified.
“Milk?” He turned and set the carton in front of me.
“Thanks.”
He carried the coffee over and we both sat at the counter. Finn poured milk over his cereal as I took a sip of coffee.
“Finn, this is perfect,” I moaned in delight before taking another sip. “You’re going to force me to keep making it this way instead.”
“That’s the plan,” he hitched a smile. His hair was slightly mussed from sleep, and there was something different about his posture. Less careful. More settled.
We ate breakfast in comfortable silence, morning light filtering through the window and dancing across the room. The space felt alive... more complete with him there. I pushed the thought into a corner of my brain and threw a blanket over it.
“So,” he said eventually, voice casual as he took our bowls to the sink and turned to me. “Do you want to talk about last night?”
Heat flooded my cheeks. Point, mortification. “It was a moment of weakness.”
“A really, really good moment of weakness,” his mouth curved into a smile that was pure trouble. “In fact, I’m thinkin’ we should have moments like that more often.”
“Finn,” I set down my coffee, my body buzzing to life. Traitor. “We probably shouldn’t…”
“Shouldn’t what?” He stepped back around to me, not crowding but close enough that I could smell cloves and the sleep that still clung to him. “Shouldn’t acknowledge that we both wanted it? Enjoyed it?”
“It’s… complicated.”
“Only if we make it complicated, Alexandra,” he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture so natural and intimate that my breath caught.
My phone buzzed again on the counter.
Holly: Also, they want to know if Uncle Finn knows how to ballet.
“The twins want us to come to their dance recital tonight. Honestly, they probably only care if you show up at this point.”
“Try to not sound jealous,” he grinned. “What time would we need to leave?”
Something warm unfurled in my chest. “You don’t have to…”
“Alex,” his voice was gentle but firm. “I want to hang out with your family. I want to watch the girls dance. I want to be there for you.”
I studied his face. He looked genuinely interested.
“Okay,” I relented. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when they want to know your favorite color and who you think is the best princess.”
“Blue. And Rapunzel, obviously.” He lifted his coffee in a mock toast, “to surviving the chaos machine.”
I clinked my glass against his. “To the chaos machine.”
I finished my coffee, kissed his cheek before I could stop myself, and got ready for my call with the animation studio that had recently survived Titan’s acquisition move.
I turned in the mirror, making sure my light blue shirt dress looked right. The girls wouldn’t care, but I wanted Finn to. I found myself caring less in general what anyone else thought except him. Satisfied, I cinched it with a belt and picked up my leather tote bag.
Finn stood up from the sofa as I entered the living room. He was dressed in his dark jeans, white button down with rolled sleeves, and brown boots. His hair was down, parting naturally on the side, the layers dark and textured around his face.
“Your hair…” I reached out, grazing my fingers over the soft locks. “I might be a little bit jealous.”
His eyes gleamed as he smoothed his hand over mine, pulling it to his lips and kissing my palm. “I hope you know how beautiful you look,” he said softly, lowering our hands.
“I’m beginning to,” I couldn’t help the blush. I’d always felt I had decent self-esteem when it came to how I looked, how I let myself be seen in the world, but hearing him tell me I looked beautiful was a whole other level. “I like when you wear your button downs,” I offered back.
“Dom complains that it’s too casual,” he lifted a shoulder, smile lighting his face.
“It’s perfect,” I picked up the three small bouquets of flowers we’d purchased earlier and slipped them into my bag before stepping into my sandals and following Finn out the door.
I plugged my phone into my car as I started the engine, “Highway Tune” filling the space between us. I felt my cheeks warm as Finn’s eyebrows shot up, a slow grin spreading across his face.
“Seriously?” He turned up the volume slightly. “I had you pegged for indie coffee shop music.”
“Shows what you know,” I pulled out of my driveway, the familiar opening riff settling my nerves. “I’ve been listening to rock since high school. Pop-punk too. Helps me focus.”
He drummed his fingers against his thigh in time with the bass line. “Dom thinks my music taste is ‘aggressively masculine and emotionally stunted.’”
“Dom listens to show tunes and indie dad music and calls it sophisticated,” I shrugged, “or Taylor Swift.”
“Don’t knock T. Swift,” he teased, settling back in his seat. “She’s my girl.”
“I thought I was your girl,” I feigned shock.
“I think last night proved you’re a woman,” he winked, and I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my throat as I pulled onto the busy highway.
“What’s your favorite song by your girl?”
He grew quiet a moment and I glanced over at him, worried. “Right Where You Left Me.”
I swallowed. “Good answer,” I reached over and squeezed his thigh gently.
He covered my hand briefly, returning the gesture before hitching a smile. “Greta Van Fleet’s pretty good though too.”
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into Roosevelt Middle School, my stomach starting its own dance party. The parking lot buzzed with families heading toward the building, kids in leotards and ballet shoes, parents carrying flowers and cameras.
I spotted Mom and Tony near the entrance with Marcus and Holly. The twins bounced around them in matching pink tutus, their hair slicked back into perfect buns. Carter clung to Holly’s leg, stuffed panda in his other arm, while Madison held Tony’s hand.
“You okay?” Finn’s voice was quiet.
My chest felt tight. Last night replayed in flashes. His mouth on my skin, the way I’d completely lost control, how natural the morning had felt. How real it felt. Except it wasn’t. We had a part to perform.
“Not in the slightest,” I managed, hoping it sounded more like humor than the truth. Finn squeezed my arm before getting out and walking around to open my door and help me out.
We moved toward my family as my mind raced. Don’t be weird about touching him. Don’t overthink every interaction. Don’t make it obvious that something happened. Don’t…
Finn’s hand found mine, his touch grounding and safe.
“Steady,” he murmured in my ear, so low only I could hear it. I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax. “There she is,” he squeezed my hand.
“Aunt Sasha! Uncle Finn!” Sadie spotted us first and launched herself toward us, Rose close behind. They wrapped their arms around my waist, then immediately transferred their enthusiasm to Finn, hugging his legs furiously.
“Look at you two,” I crouched down to their level. “You look like real ballerinas.”
“We are real ballerinas,” Sadie corrected me. “Miss Ashley says we have natural grace.”
Madison appeared, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “I’m in the older kids’ group. We’re doing jazz, not ballet. It’s way cooler.”
“Do you dance, Uncle Finn?” Rose studied his face.
“Only when no one’s watching,” he said solemnly. “And I never get to wear a tutu.”
The girls giggled, but Rose’s expression grew worried.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” I smoothed her soft blonde bangs out of her eyes.
“What if I forget the steps? What if I trip? What if...”
Finn crouched down in front of her, taking her hands in both of his as he spoke tenderly but matter-of-factly. “Rose, look at me. You know this routine, right? You’ve practiced it how many times?”
“A million,” she whispered, nodding.