Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Frankie
I really had thought men looked attractive in suits until I saw Finch in one. That was how a suit was meant to be worn. Holy moly. Thank all the butch gods for this gift to all womankind. I was starting to wonder if these heart palpitations weren’t from the nerves of seeing Jake and were due to the fact I’d have to pretend to be dating someone as ridiculously sexy as Finch Lachlan. I found myself not-so-subtly stealing glances at her the entire ride over to the docks.
The sun was still high in the sky, glinting off the water. Another glorious summer day on Prickle Island. We passed the tall hedgerows of island estates, gated gravel driveways to one side and rustic seawall to the other. The road grew quieter with fewer and fewer cars, and I imagined taking lazy Sunday drives around the shoreline with Finch, imagined what it would be like to live on an island and be able to do this whenever we wanted. The daydream was cut short when we hit the busy intersection to the marina, where it seemed half the island was invited to climb aboard one of the giant yachts moored there. This place looked like the Fort Knox of marinas: guard towers, barbed wire fences, security cameras everywhere.
When Finch parked the vet truck between two cars that probably cost more than most people’s houses, she turned to me and asked, "Ready?"
Taking a deep breath, I said, “Not really, but let's go."
I reached for the car door. "Wait!" Finch interrupted, hustling to unbuckle her seat belt. "Let me get your door for you.”
I followed her line of sight to the crowd waiting to be checked off the guest list and realized this cute gesture was because people might be watching. Time to put on a show, I reminded myself.
I let Finch open my door and took her hand to help me out of the truck. The crowd looked like they were all attending a black-tie event in gowns and tuxes, and I suddenly felt very underdressed. I thought the event would be more summery than glamorous. My footsteps faltered as we approached the line, but Finch's arm slid across my back and curved around my waist, pulling me into her as she kissed my temple. My brain short-circuited at the brush of her soft lips.
"Have I told you you look amazing yet?" she murmured into my ear, sending tingles down my neck. “Or was I just thinking that to myself the entire car ride over?”
"I feel underdressed," I whispered back.
"You are perfectly dressed," she corrected. "Trust me. I grew up around these people. The ones that are trying the hardest are the ones they look down upon the most. The real money doesn't even think about it. See that guy?” She pointed to a man who looked like he’d walked straight off the tennis courts, still in sneakers and a sweat-stained polo shirt. The line parted for him, and he walked straight past the bouncer checking the guest list like he was the King of England.
Finch’s lips found the shell of my ear as she whispered, “You look like a modern Venus. To think any differently makes me wonder if you looked in a fun house mirror on the way out the door."
My blush burned my cheeks as I leaned into her. "Thank you," I whispered. "And you look?—”
"Incredibly handsome?" she asked. "I know."
"So humble."
"I'm just demonstrating how to be confident," she said with a roguish smile. "I'm hoping I'll rub off on you."
I tried very hard not to snort giggle at that, liking the idea of her rubbing off on me . . . probably a little too much.
But then I heard Jake call my name. Finch folded me tighter to her side, as if in protection from a stampeding bear.
I turned to see Jake in his usual charcoal-gray suit that he wore to all his family's semiformal occasions. He wove through the line, his eyes hooked on me.
"They're with me, Tom," he called to the security guy checking the guest list, and the giant in dark sunglasses and an earpiece nodded to him, waving us through.
Was there actually royalty on the boat tonight? What was with all the security?
"Welcome to the Seafarer’s Wife ,” Jake said as we skirted through the crowd and onto the ramp leading to the yacht.
“What a weird name for a boat,” Finch whispered in my ear, and I chuckled.
“He acts like it’s his yacht,” I whispered back.
I bet Jake loved that, pretending he was this man, maybe even thinking he’d become him someday. Finch and I exchanged glances, and I had a feeling she was thinking the same thing.
"Thanks for inviting us," I said louder, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Impressive yacht," Finch added mildly as we boarded the gangplank.
I didn't know the first thing about yachts, but this thing was massive and packed with people. Waiters in black shirts and white bow ties milled through the crowd with trays of Champagne while a DJ was playing golden oldies at the front of the bow. Bow? Was that right? I had no idea. I didn't grow up by the ocean and all this nautical stuff was a mystery to me.
"Jake!" Olivia called, flagging him down from the second floor.
"Excuse me, ladies,” Jake said with an entitled smile. "Go explore, enjoy, we set sail in the next half hour to cruise the islands."
"Splendid," Finch said in a mocking British accent, but Jake didn't seem to notice.
I elbowed her as he walked away.
"What?"
"We're meant to be smugly above all of this," I whisper hissed. "We're supposed to be so blissed out in love that we don't care that he's an arrogant asshole.”
Finch turned to me, snaking her arms around my waist and pulling me flush against her. She was the perfect height for me to fit in the nook of her arms, her athletic build complimenting my curves, the perfect juxtaposition of hard and soft.
Relaxing into her hold, I suddenly realized the way I relished it was too real. I quickly stepped away and asked, “What are you doing?"
"Pretending to be blissed out in love? Obviously,” Finch said, rocking us side to side like we were loved-up teenagers waiting in line at a theme park. “Am I doing a good job?”
“Yeah.” I groaned. "I need a drink."
Finch didn’t miss a beat, taking my hand and leading me as if she already had sniffed out where the bar was. "Let's go."
She confidently guided me through the crowd. People hastily parted to make way for her, eyeing her piercings and tattoos like she might be a mob boss’s daughter. We beelined to the nearest waiter and Finch snagged two flutes of Champagne, holding them in one hand with impressive deftness without releasing my hand with the other. We wove through the party until we found a slightly quieter deck at the back of the boat.
I let out a sigh as the salty air rolled in off the ocean, the lights dimmer and the music softer. There was an overwhelming amount of people on this boat, and even though I couldn’t see him, I felt like Jake was watching me from every angle.
Finch passed me a flute, clinked our glasses together, and drank. "Better?"
"Yeah, thanks." Bubbles burned down my throat as I searched the unfamiliar faces milling about. “This feels like a mistake. I should’ve said we were busy.”
"Don't worry, Goldilocks," Finch said. “You’ve already proven you’re a million times better than him. This appearance will definitely seal your victory.”
"I don't feel particularly victorious,” I grumbled. “I feel like the girl he dumped who’s so pathetic that she’s still trying to impress him.”
Finch skulled the rest of her Champagne and set her empty glass on a nearby hightop. She leaned back against the railing with a sigh. "I still can't believe you were ever with a guy like him.”
"He wasn't always that bad," I said, pursing my lips. "I don't think . . . I mean maybe he was and I just didn't want to see it."
"Why didn't you want to see it?"
"I don't know.” I took another sip of Champagne, hoping the tingling bubbles would give me some liquid courage. "We met after college, and he was older and interested. He seemed like a good guy, and it just was like the logical next step in my life.”
"Logical," Finch echoed.
"Yeah. It just felt like time to partner off with someone.”
Finch studied me. “So not because of some burning, undying love for him?"
"People don't really feel that way about other people.”
"You know, I used to agree with you," she added wistfully. "Until my siblings started finding their partners. Now I don't know what to think." She sighed, snagging another glass from a passing waiter. "But what I do know is I've heard a very similar story to yours from a lot of the women I've slept with when it comes to dating men.”
"Oh really?"
"Yep."
"Great," I muttered. "I really don't want to dissect if my decision to pick Jake was just me being unaware I was gay."
Finch laughed around the rim of her glass. “You said it, not me, Goldilocks."
"Do you think that's what this was?" I cringed. “Maybe I . . . Oh god?—”
"Whoa, don't spiral out," Finch jumped in. "I meant that to comfort you, not freak you out. Sorry."
"It's fine. I just?—”
"Bi people exist," Finch reminded me. “I should know, half of my siblings are.”
"Yeah. They exist,” I hedged. I just wasn't sure if I was one of them , I thought silently to myself.
Men were transactional; women were magical. It had been one of those thoughts that had popped up every few years, one I’d shove far, far down because it wasn't worth scrutinizing. I'd picked Jake and he made sense and I'd started my life in his hometown, and I hadn’t wanted to give that up just because I dreamt of women in a way I'd never dreamt of men . . .
But now. Here. With Finch. Maybe I could admit to myself that there were some signs I wasn't ready to fully see before.
"I should've become a nun," I muttered.
Finch snorted. "Yeah, for some reason I really don't see that happening for you. You're too good a chef for one thing.”
“Nuns eat,” I countered.
Her dimpled smile made my stomach somersault. “They do.”
"I don't want to have to start dating again after all this." I moaned, the past few weeks catching up to me all at once. "Maybe I'll just get a bunch of cats. I'd found a person, even if he wasn't my person, and I don't want to have to rebuild a whole life with someone new. Especially now."
"Now?"
"I was so much more attractive ten years ago. And like sixty pounds lighter too.” I waved myself up and down. “Now I've got to find someone who likes my personality well enough to tolerate all this."
Finch spluttered, Champagne spraying everywhere. She leaned overboard to spit the rest of her drink into the dark water below. A few people paused to look as Finch blotted her shirt with a cocktail napkin, but she didn't care as she turned to look at me, shielding me from the rest of the prying partiers. “Sorry, please tell me you didn’t just say tolerate ?”
“Um? I did?”
“Goldilocks.”
“What?”
Finch pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh god, how do I say this respectfully?” she murmured to herself before squaring her shoulders to pin me with a look. “There are a lot of people who see you—all of you—as an absolute asset, so incredibly desirable. Every dip and curve and . . .” She coughed loudly, her face getting flushed. I bit my lip, trying to contain my smile. She couldn’t really mean that. “Believe me when I tell you, there are people who would want to take all day getting lost in your softness. Don’t accept anything less.” She cleared her throat. “That’s all.”
Now it was my turn to get all flushed. Fuck if I didn’t want Finch to get lost in all my softness. Never had someone made that sound so appealing.
I looked out to the ocean, my nerves making me jittery. It was only then I realized we'd set sail. My hand instinctively shot out and gripped the railing. I gulped as I took in the swirling dark water all around the boat. “How long until we get back to shore?"
“Why do you look a trapped ostrich who's about to run straight into a fencepost?” Finch asked with a chuckle.
“Because we are trapped on this boat.” I anxiously shifted my weight back and forth. "It's not like we can just get off whenever we want."
"So let's just enjoy our time then.”
"I bet there's not enough life jackets for all of us,” I snapped, knowing I sounded like a maniac. “What if the boat sinks? Oh god, they’re going to use the shipwreck as a douchy scuba diver site.”
“Shipwreck?”
My eyes flared, and I knew I was being ridiculous but couldn’t rein in my panic. “What if we hit an iceberg?”
"You think there's icebergs in shoreline Connecticut?"
"It's a safety hazard."
"We'll just swim back to shore. We're not going out to sea. We're touring the islands . . .. Wait." Finch held me at arm's length and studied me, realization dawning on her face all at once. "Do you know how to swim?" I frowned and folded my arms. "You don't, do you?"
"I can swim fine," I muttered. "If doggy paddle counts."
“Okay, well, first, I am proud of how spiteful you are to agree to come to this party when you’re scared of the water,” Finch said, those damned cheeks dimpling again. “And second, I’m going to teach you how to swim."
"What?" I glared down at my hand as she tried to peel my fingers off the railing.
She linked our fingers together, and I gripped her hand just as hard. “You live on an island now. You need to learn."
"With what time are you going to teach me how to swim?"
She shrugged. "I'll make time. We can use the Holloways’ pool. Hannah has a key."
I liked the sound of her making time for me. I knew what a big deal that was in her chaotic schedule.
"As long as you don't make me wear those ridiculous floaties,” I relented.
"Wouldn't dream of it," she replied with a grin. "And as for tonight." She leaned in and dropped her mouth to my ear. "If for some reason the boat sinks, I'll swim you to shore. Okay?"
"You'll be too drunk by then," I said, nodding to her second drink.
Finch set her flute down with stubborn determination. “I promise," she said. "I'd never let anything bad happen to my girlfriend, fake or not." She threaded her fingers through mine and tugged me away from the railing. “Now come dance with me.”
"I'm not a very good dancer?—”
"It's a slow song," Finch cut in. "You basically just have to hug me while I rock you side to side. Stop overthinking everything just for tonight, Goldilocks.”
The sun was swiftly setting, casting the sky in a beautiful burnt orange glow as Finch dragged me to the dance floor.
I chuckled as her hands enfolded me again and she pulled my arms up to hold around her neck. I couldn’t help but think about how well she and I fit together, the way we moved. Maybe it was just Finch working her magic, but I swore I was working a little bit of magic on her too.
“Thank you for doing this with me,” I said, gazing up into her dark eyes.
Her warm breath tickled my face as she laughed. "This is what blissed out in love people do, don't they?" Finch asked.
"I have no idea what they do,” I whispered, getting caught in her gaze.
But for the first time in my entire life, I really wished I did.