3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Luna
“There’s nothing else available?” My mom’s tone climbs an octave higher. Having owned restaurants throughout her career, my mom keeps her attitude calm and kind with people in the service industry. The growing distress in her voice shows frustration not with the petite woman at the spa’s desk but with herself.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. Let me take another look.”
“They’ve got to have something,” I say to Mom as she turns around to the rest of us.
“Can’t believe I screwed this up.” Her brows crinkle, and I can tell she’s mentally beating herself up about this. If anyone ever asks where my perfectionist tendencies come from, I have an idea.
When she arranged arrival-day spa treatments for everyone, my mom booked four couple’s massages and a single massage for Finn. When I made up the excuse about Tanner’s work trip, she emailed changes to the resort. A miscommunication means we now have only the couple’s massages with no available time slots today or tomorrow.
The person at the front desk apologizes again. “We can reschedule some or all of your party for later during your stay, if you’d like.”
After a quick scan of the rest of my family, it’s obvious that after such lengthy travel, some of them had their hearts set on a massage—myself included—though I care more about making sure that everyone else is satisfied. I won’t make everybody wait for this.
“I’ll come back in a couple days,” I say.
“Oh, LouLou.” My mom’s expression falls.
“I don’t mind. My massage will happen, no big deal, and you all can enjoy today.”
“What if you and Mel do one room, and Finn and Aaron go in another?” my dad asks me.
“Works for me.” I love my brother’s wife and have no issues sharing this experience with her, although she appears less thrilled by the suggestion.
“Oh.” Melissa looks at Aaron, then me. “Yeah, sure.”
“Sounds romantic,” my brother says as he swings an arm around Finn’s shoulders. “Although I’ll admit, after multiple flights, I’d kind of like to unwind with my favorite person.”
“I’m not your favorite person?” Finn asks, faking offense.
“Close. Mel’s prettier. And we don’t see each other much at the hospital as it is.”
He has a point. They’re both doctors with busy lives who would appreciate some downtime together on this trip.
“Then Lou and I can take the one room.” Finn shrugs, then looks at me. “Not a big deal. Better than waiting a few days, right?”
“You sure you’re okay with that?” my mom asks, her gaze hopping between the two of us.
I hug the plush white terry cloth robe tighter around my body while my mind sets off on a marathon. Finn and I have hung out countless times before. A side-by-side massage? Totally fine. We’ll probably both pass out, anyway.
“I’m sure,” I say. “We could all use some self-care, right?”
With that, the massage therapists behind the desk lead us back. Our resort’s spa rests on a pier, similar to the overwater bungalows of our villa. The therapist guiding me and Finn explains how the rooms look like a jellyfish from overhead. All the tentacles branch off, leading to treatment rooms.
Inside our room, the dark wood under our feet contrasts with the beachy off-white decor. Instead of music, the open doors of the patio allow the calming sound of the ocean to come in. The outdoor space is also complete with a bathtub that looks like half of an eggshell, with a bath already prepared—apparent by the bubbles and rose petals on top.
“Your journey starts with a warm lavender and rosehip bubble soak to soothe your body and release any pent-up tension,” one massage therapist explains while the other gestures around the space as if she were Vanna White. “Once your muscles have warmed up, we will begin the side-by-side bodywork. Afterwards, you can both enjoy a glass of champagne in the tub or on the deck.”
They slip out like ghosts, leaving Finn and I alone in a room that suddenly feels very small, very quiet, and very couple-y.
“What a production,” Finn says.
“Everything’s better in the Maldives, I guess.”
“Right then.” He unties his robe to reveal a toned chest with a smattering of dark hair at the center. I’ve seen Finn in a swimsuit at other family get-togethers, but something about the hard planes of his stomach and the bulk of his legs captures my attention in a new way. He looks good. Hot. With his head down, my gaze skates over the middle of his swim trunks, and I wonder what he looks like underneath.
“Ladies first.”
My head snaps up to his face, smirk and all, and heat floods my cheeks. He definitely caught me ogling him.
“You go ahead,” I say. “And once you’re in, close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Because…I’m not wearing my bikini.” The words come out in a low rush, and Finn’s eyebrows stitch together in confusion. “I forgot it.”
“You didn’t bring anything to swim in for a beach vacation?”
“No, I thought—In my head, massages were a solo activity. Didn’t figure I’d need one for this. My bikini’s in my room.”
Our resort takes up the entire island, with the spa and our villa at opposite ends. A fifteen-minute walk there and fifteen back means that if I fetch my swimsuit now, I’ll miss a decent portion of the treatment.
Finn’s expression shows no sign of humor—no wry smile, no crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “You’ve been naked under your robe this entire time?”
I nod, to which he hisses an exhale and scrubs a hand over his face. Finn has viewed me as his best friend’s annoying little sister my whole life, but probably even more in this moment.
“Okay, bath time sounds good right about now.” In a swift movement, Finn dunks his lower half into the tub, a hand bracketed on each side. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he groans, a sound that vibrates low in my belly. “Holy shit, Lou. This is perfect.”
“Seriously?” I pad over and test the temperature. Hot, but not too hot, with bubbles like silk on my fingertips. “Hurry up, close those eyes.”
He settles all the way in with one more groan, then rests his face in his hands.
Stripping down and sitting in a tub with my brother’s best friend—just another day in paradise. With my robe on the floor, I slide into my side of the exquisite waters, lean back, and let out a contented sigh. “Wow.”
“All in?”
With my hands, I collect some more bubbles for extra coverage. “All in.”
His eyelids open to reveal that stunning blue again—a hue that puts all the blues in the ocean to shame. Although right now his eyes appear a few shades darker.
“How, uh…” His arms rest on the edge of the porcelain, and he taps his thumb on the inside. “How do you wanna sit?”
His question makes me realize I’m still hugging my legs into my chest, and the tops of his knees poke through the top of the water like islands.
“We can stay this way,” he says.
“No. The whole point of a spa treatment is to relax, and we’re squished into opposite ends of this egg tub. I could maybe stretch out on the right side, and you do the same from your side. We’d bump together a little…Or do you want to do cross-legged?”
“Whatever.”
He is so irritated with me. If I had let him do this massage on his own, at least he’d get to enjoy it more.
“Cross-legged,” I say, and we both adjust into the new position.
Sitting crisscross means there’s no risk of Finn’s ripped thighs rubbing against me, but with my knees out to each side, I’m on display in front of him and baring everything. Only some mounds of bubbles prevent him from seeing my most intimate parts.
“Well, weirdness aside, this is the nicest bath I’ve ever taken,” I say to defuse the tension.
“Same.” His cock-eyed grin pulls on one corner of his mouth, and I sigh from the relief of knowing he’s not as upset about this as I had assumed. “Although if you wanna talk about weird, remember my emo phase?”
“I will never forget.”
“Bet I could beat you at an eyeliner-applying contest any day of the week.”
“Are you…” I run my lower lip between my teeth. “Are you trying to out-embarrass me to make me feel better?”
He shrugs. “Is it working?”
“Yes. But that means you’ll have to beat the headgear I had to wear at night during seventh and eighth grade.”
“Nope, doesn’t count.”
“Why not?”
“Because you get compliments from the dentist every time you go in for a cleaning.”
“I do not.”
“You do, because you brag about it.” His smirk deepens, causing a dimple to appear. I’d never noticed that dimple before. “I had that buzz cut when I graduated,” he says.
“Canceled out by my perm.”
“Fair.” He chuckles, and the sound relaxes me more into the tub.
“I spent most of the summer after my junior year of college crying into pint after pint of mint chocolate chip on the sofa.”
“Aw, Lou.”
“It’s true,” I say. “You saw.”
“Yeah, but…” He looks at me with gentleness in his eyes, almost in apology that I’ve brought up something not only embarrassing but also kind of sad. “Breakups don’t count. Besides, nothing tops that radio show I hosted in college called—”
“Ear Orgasms!” I shout over him with a cackle. “That was when you would only listen to music from bands that nobody had heard of. You were such a snob.”
“This is a judgment-free tub.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize. Then I withdraw my statement.” I laugh and my eyes catch his over the frothy mountains in the water. “You know, you’ve successfully managed to put me at ease. I feel like way less of an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot,” he says, his voice solid, certain, and matter-of-fact. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”
“They have a public sauna and steam area here too.” I pick up a rose petal and tear it in half, then in half again, and again. “How did I envision that would go? Like I’d walk around nude through the whole place?”
The muscles in his neck seem to tense, like he’s grinding his jaw. “You could have borrowed one of the island bikes and gone back for your suit. I would’ve done it for you.”
“People needed some self-care, and I wanted everyone to have a nice time while we’re here, you know? Didn’t want to interrupt the flow of things.”
“You deserve to have a nice time too.”
I give him a soft smile. Finn’s always looking out for me. “I am.” Pulling my hands below the surface, I shake the torn rose petals from my hand. “Thank you, by the way. For everything with my dad. Don’t think I ever told you that.”
“’Course. I liked helping out. My own was never around, so Dave’s a father to me.”
“Yeah.” My vision goes blurry and my throat grows thick with emotion. “It was just nice having people care for him.”
Finn watches, his expression unreadable as I wipe under my eyes, smearing bathwater on my cheeks.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“Not even for forgetting my swimsuit?”
“Simple mistake. Same as the issue with the booking. Besides,” he says, tapping his thumb against the tub again, “it wasn’t supposed to be me in here with you.”
Right. My ex, again. I wish Finn would stop bringing him up. Part of me wants to confess the reality of my last few months, and I trust he wouldn’t say a word to my family until I’m ready. Something halts the confession in my throat, though. Tanner and I didn’t have a mature, amicable breakup or run the natural course of our relationship—he was unfaithful to me, and more than once. If we want to talk about embarrassing situations, mine tops them all.
I can’t have anyone, especially Finn, seeing me the way my ex did—as someone who’s disposable, even after she’s tried her hardest.
“Seems like you miss Tanner more than I do,” I say.
“Trust me.” Finn pins me with a stare that makes me squirm. “I don’t.”
A barely there knock sounds at our door, and one of our masseuses enters. The massage is up next, so she exits again and gives us a few minutes to lie face down on the tables. We take turns drying off and slipping under the crisp flat sheet while the other closes their eyes. I go second, so I get a full view of Finn’s back, all corded muscles and delicious lines I’d like to trace with my fingertips. If I wanted to do something to make Finn think I’m even weirder and more obnoxious than he already does, that would do the trick.
I cover my lower half with the sheet as instructed and rest my head on the circular pillow with a hole. The floor has a glass cutout so we can study the shallow water below.
Finley Robertson blue. How embarrassing. I can’t believe I said that.
The staff returns and I raise my head to peer at Finley. “Have a good massage,” I say, surprised to catch him already looking at me. Not at my face, though—lower down my torso, at the spot where my side boob squishes out. His eyes flick up to mine.
“Yeah. You too.”
Like an ostrich, he plunks his head into his pillow, obviously content to ignore me for the next fifty minutes. I put my head down too, but I can’t fight the grin spreading across my face.
Finn was checking me out.