Chapter 11 #2
“Dostoyevsky’s not exactly Chicken Soup for the Soul is he?
” He chuckled weakly and set his pool cue down, joining her on the other side of the table.
“A few years ago, after my mom died…I needed to get out of town for a while. So I did. Someone had left a copy of Notes from Underground in the hostel I was staying at in Trier, and—I guess my point is, aren’t demons all about the suffering?
Ergo, if to love is to suffer…You get where I’m going with this? ”
“We’re not all about the suffering,” she said, taking a seat on the edge of the table, her palms pressed flat against the felt. “Some of us are just doing our job.”
“Sure. Fine. Fair enough,” he said, conceding the point. “But I call bullshit that you can’t love.”
She arched a brow. “You meet one demon and suddenly you think you know more about them than I do?”
“Daphne, that demon you told me about? The one you helped? She fell in love, didn’t she?”
She opened her mouth only to pause. That was—well. “That was Daphne. She’s the exception that proves the rule.”
Finn dropped his chin and leveled her with a stare. “It’s not much of a rule if there’s an exception, is it?”
“Whatever it is you’re thinking, you’re wrong. I am not going to fall in love with Belphegor.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“Whatever it is, you’re still wrong,” she said. “It doesn’t matter what I or any other demon can do. I still don’t have any interest in that. Love.”
“Why? We were happy, weren’t we?” He shifted closer, his hip pressed against the outside of her thigh. “You were happy with me?”
The question made her heart stutter.
“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked quietly, avoiding his eyes.
“Just answer the question, Effie.”
Her chest clenched, her throat tightening.
He needed to stop. Stop saying her name.
Stop making her feel things. She’d had enough of confronting her grief in the past day to know this plan of hers was bullshit.
No amount of time spent sitting with her sadness would ever make it go away.
Trying was a fool’s errand. She could bury the hopes she’d had of spending a long and happy life with the man she’d loved, but those dreams would haunt her forever.
The only way she could fathom putting an end to the suffering would be to put as much distance between her and the living reminder of him sitting next to her as possible.
To go back to Hell, where she belonged, rebuild her walls and repair her breaches, create a fortress around her heart.
Lock it all up inside and throw away the key and feel nothing.
A harsh breath hissed from her lips. “Fine. Yes, okay? I was.”
Was that what he wanted to hear? That she once was happy and now she wasn’t?
“And you don’t want to be happy like that again?”
She gritted her teeth. “I made my bed and now I have to lie in it.”
Finn sighed through his nose. “You think you don’t deserve it.”
“I know I don’t.” She made to stand on shaking legs. She could feel her breaths shortening, growing shallower. “It’s late. I should come back to—”
“Don’t.” He caught her by the wrist, keeping her in place. The moment their skin touched, an electric current shot through her. “Stay. Talk to me.”
Effie pinched her eyes shut. “I can’t.”
His grip was gentle but firm, his palm hot and calloused. Standing there, skin to skin, the ever-present tug just beneath her breastbone grew stronger. “Why not?”
“Because.” Her voice warbled pathetically, her sinuses stinging. Fuck. “You wouldn’t understand. You weren’t there. You’re not…”
She trailed off with a wince.
“I’m not him.” His voice was soft, still managing to crack open her chest as he filled in the blanks.
When she opened her eyes, it was to find him staring down at the place where his hand was wrapped around her wrist, his brows knitted like he was puzzling something out.
Her, maybe. Or perhaps he felt that pull, too, like there was an invisible thread connecting her to him.
“No.” She tugged her hand free and rubbed her wrist, trying not to mourn the loss of his touch, failing epically. “You’re not.”
His jaw worked like he was warring with his words, and she had to fight back the impulsive desire to reach up and stroke it, to run her fingers over the thick stubble covering his cheeks. “What if—”
He froze, a funny look on his face. He reached inside his pocket and fished out his phone, glancing at the screen before starting to tap out what she could only assume was a text.
“Sorry about that,” he said, setting his phone down on the table. “There was just something Daisy forgot to mention earlier that she wanted to tell me before she forgot again.”
“Oh.” Her lips flattened into a thin line. “Well. That was…thoughtful of her.”
He looked at her askance, his smile bemused. “You don’t like her.”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t know her well enough to have an opinion on her.”
“Mm-hmm. Sure,” he said, sounding like he didn’t believe her. “What’s that you said to me before? My eyebrows were telling a different story?”
Her scowl deepened. “I’m sure Daisy is perfectly lovely.”
A grin stole over Finn’s face, pink lips stretching taut against white teeth, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “You’re jealous.”
“Excuse me?” She scoffed. “Why would I be jealous?”
He raised a brow. “You tell me.”
She picked a spot over his shoulder to glower at. “I’m not jealous.”
Jealousy would mean she wanted Finn for herself. She didn’t. But Daisy knew Finn was married. Excuse her for thinking it was tacky to hit on a married man.
A finger curled beneath her chin, tipping her head up until she had no choice but to look at him. “Try that again and look me in the eye this time.”
“I said I’m not.” It was more breath than sound.
“If you were, I’d tell you there’s no reason to be,” he said, fingers brushing against the tender underside of her jaw. “While Daisy is perfectly lovely, I’m not interested.”
She snorted, her heart skipping a beat, and batted his hand away. “Does Daisy know that?”
“Daisy…” He appeared to choose his words carefully. “Daisy knows that now isn’t a good time for me.”
“Why? Because you’re married?”
“That’s part of it.”
She tilted her head to the side, brain whirring into overdrive. “Does it have something to do with why you came home?”
He took a step back and sucked in a noisy breath. “What do you know about that?”
“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Just that Martha said she was glad you were back in town and that it was a shame it wasn’t under better circumstances, but it wasn’t her place to say anything more than that.”
“She’s right,” he said, the tight, gravelly sound of his voice taking her by surprise. “It’s not.”
Effie wet her lips. “Do you…do you want to talk about it?”
Finn paused, then shook his head. “Not tonight.”
“Sure.” She ran the ends of her hair through her fingers, trying to regroup. “We should probably…Well, to be honest, I don’t know what to tell you that I haven’t already told you about before, so I was thinking if you had questions, we could—”
A loud bring-bring cut her off mid-sentence. Finn swore quietly and reached for his phone. One look at the screen was enough to make him frown.
“Sorry, I have to take this.” He answered the call.
“Hey. No, no, I am. I just—” He paused, listening as the person on the other end of the line spoke.
“No, don’t be sorry. Time got away from me, but I’ll— Yeah, sure.
I can do that. Okay. See you soon.” He ended the call, slipping his phone into his pocket with a weary-sounding sigh.
“Is everything okay?”
Finn ducked his chin and ran his fingers through his hair. “Everything’s fine. There’s just somewhere I need to be. If I’d known you were planning on coming—”
“No, it’s late.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I should go.”
“Tomorrow?” he said, walking her to the door. “I’ll start thinking of what questions I have tonight. Make a list.”
“Tomorrow,” she agreed. “And don’t worry, I won’t wait until you’re closing.”
He smiled softly, and against all reason, her heart did a flip. “I’ll be here.”