Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
OAKLEIGH
I didn’t see it. I didn’t see it. I didn’t see it.
And yet, here I am reading it. Again and again and again.
From: Janelle.Parsons@
To: OakleighMichaels@
Dear Miss Michaels,
I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to you today as I was handed the first three chapters of your romantasy novel, Time Saves No One, and I knew I needed to email you personally.
I am in love with these chapters! The concept of the novel is inspiring and the tension in that third chapter alone had me hooked. I am all but begging you to send me more!!
If it is not yet completed, this is fine. Can you send this over ASAP? I’m desperate for more!
Best,
Janelle Parsons
Right in front of me in black and white. It’s right in front of me. Someone didn’t just like what I sent them, they loved it. And not just anyone, Janelle freaking Parsons!
“Holy shit,” I breathe out.
I read it once more, each word seeming more and more like a dream that I never want to wake up from.
She seriously wants the rest of what I’ve written?
“Holy shit!”
I close my mail app and shut my laptop with a rough snap. I all but throw it onto the table and sink further into my couch, putting some much-needed distance between myself and the email.
Not right now. I can’t deal with this right now. It’s too real, too surreal.
I decide that some chamomile tea would be a good place to start when trying to calm down and quell my frayed nerves. I pour myself a cup with shaky hands, rush after rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins.
My phone is in my hand before I can even think, typing out a message that I send off straightaway.
I need help.
Not even two minutes later, Finn replies.
Dumbass
I’ll be there in ten.
You work twenty minutes away.
Dumbass
You’re worth the speeding ticket ;)
My smile eases my coiled muscles ever so slightly. He always seems to know the right thing to do. Finn’s flirting, while mostly cheesy, never fails to make me laugh.
And he’s definitely not a liar, because ten minutes later, my doorbell goes off. When I open the door, I’m met with a very serious-looking Finn. He’s wearing a plain black tee, worn jeans and workman’s boots, and I’ve never found simple so agonizingly good.
“Is it life threatening?” is the first thing he asks.
“What? No.”
He breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. Then I don’t feel bad for stopping to pick this up on the way.” He lifts a plain white plastic bag with a white takeout container inside.
“Wait a second. What if it was life threatening?”
“Then if you’d survived, this would have been my apology for taking a minute longer than necessary.”
I already feel better.
The minute Finn closes the door behind him, Ollie comes running out of the laundry room. He bypasses me completely and heads straight to Finn so he can rub his head against Finn’s leg.
“You come into my house for two seconds and all of a sudden I become fucking Billy-no-mates.”
Finn scoops Ollie up into his arms and my traitorous black cat makes biscuits on his chest while he snuggles against his cheek.
Honestly, it’s moving from being endearing, to just plain insulting.
I’ve been feeding this little bitch for years and not once have I had these kinds of snuggles.
If he’s not careful, I’m gonna get another cat just to piss him off.
A cat that I’ll love just as much, obviously.
“Hey, boy,” Finn greets, giving Ollie scratches behind the ear.
The little shit moves his head until Finn’s hand is exactly where he wants it, his purring loud enough that I’d hear it if I was in my bedroom.
Finn doesn’t stop giving Ollie scratches while he asks me, “So, what is it that I can help with?”
My attention is brought back to the matter at hand, and I find the anxiety coming back in waves. A few deep breaths do little to help, but it gives me enough room to get the words out.
“That agent I sent my book off to has just emailed me asking for the entire manuscript.”
Finn freezes, uncertainty painting itself across his face.
“Okay, so I’m not entirely sure how to react, because on the one hand, you’ve wanted this for ages and so I’m here thinking it’s good news, but then you’re also making it sound like this is the worst thing to ever happen to you so …
you’re going to have to help me out here. ”
I shake my head. “I’m elated, really I am. I’m just also freaking out.”
“Okay, well in that case…” Finn grabs me and pulls me close, his lips colliding with mine briefly, but for long enough to still scramble my senses.
“That was to say congratulations. I’m infinitely proud of you and you deserve this.
” Next, he pulls me into a bear hug. “And this is to let you know that it’s going to be okay.
Of course it will be, you’re an amazing writer who deserves to become a goddamn bestseller. And you will become one.”
I can feel my cheeks flush. “Thanks. I just … I don’t know. I think I just feel unworthy.”
“Look at me,” he orders, his voice low enough to send a thrill down my spine. “Oakleigh you have something so rare.”
“What’s that?” I ask quietly.
“Passion.” He leans forward until his nose almost touches mine. “You have a passion for something and even if that something only ever makes sense to you, you are still worthy of doing it and achieving because of it.”
Tears threaten to spill from my eyes as every one of Finn’s words resonates with me.
“I know you’re a good writer, Oakleigh, but even if you weren’t, I’d tell you to do it because it’s something you love to do, and I love nothing more than seeing your eyes light up every time you talk about it and explain the same thing to me five times.
I want to hear it over and over again, because I see and hear the passion that burns within you.
So, if you ever think you’re unworthy, you come straight to me and I’ll remind you as many times as necessary that you are worth this, Cherry. Every bit of it.”
My face becomes wet as tear after tear streaks down my cheeks.
I wish I could get the words as perfect as he does.
I wish I could tell him that he, too, deserves everything and more when it comes to pursuing architecture and building the house, but words that encouraging will never come to me, I fear.
I’ll just have to find a way to show him instead.
“Thank you.” Barely any sound comes out, I mouthed it more than anything because emotion just clogs up every inch of my throat until I can barely swallow. I fall into one of his hugs yet again, and this time I stay there for as long as possible, even when Ollie tries to get in between us.
Finn looks down at my wayward feline. “Sorry, kid, mummy and daddy time, I’m afraid. Off you go.”
Like the obedient little cat that Ollie has never been, he trots off somewhere in the house to do what I am convinced is something drastic, like becoming a hitman or something.
“You seriously have to teach me that.”
“It’s all in the tone.”
I slump down onto my couch and bring my knees up to my chin. Finn takes a seat beside me, draping his arm over the back of the chair. Together, we bask in this rare moment of peace and tranquility that seems to pause time.
“I have a confession to make,” Finn says, breaking the silence.
“Oh?” I ask, turning myself until I’m snuggled into the crook of his arm.
A pink flush paints itself across his neck. “That day that I stole your notebook…”
“Yeah?”
“I may or may not have sneaked a teeny tiny peak.”
“Finley!”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I couldn’t help it!”
I bolt upright. “How much did you read?”
Finn smiles down at me, twirling the ends of my hair between his fingers. “Enough.”
“Enough?”
He nods. “Enough to grasp every ounce of my attention and have me know that you, my love, are a phenomenal writer.”
My love.
Two words that have made me completely gloss over the rest of the sentence.
I cannot currently appreciate that Finn believes me to be a phenomenal writer, not when he puts those two exceptionally large words in front of it.
I have lately been aware of the possibility of falling in love with Finn, and the fear that the thought brings with it is something that I have yet to experience in regard to anything else.
But hearing such words come out of his mouth about me doesn’t bring the fear like I thought it would.
Instead, fire burst through my veins, adrenaline right beside it.
Elevation makes my heart feel as if it is twice the size that it once was.
Things with Finn have progressed at a speed that I’m struggling to keep up with. My heart and my emotions seem to be setting the pace, but it has somehow forgotten to bring my mind along for the ride.
“You still with me, Cherry?” Finn’s low, velvety voice entices me away from my thoughts.
“Of course,” I reply. “I’m right here.”
He wraps the ends of my hair around his finger once before giving it a light tug.
The action is playful, almost friendly, and yet with Finn I know that there is so much more to it.
Sometimes it’s a compulsion, other times it’s a force of habit, and then there’s the rare time—and I could be wrong—when I think it’s just his way of reminding himself that I am still there.
“Good,” he says before placing a soft kiss against my temple. “With me is exactly where I want you to be.”
I hesitate. With him is exactly where I want to be as well, and yet I know deep down that I shouldn’t.
I’m not just a bad apple, it would seem, I’m someone who turns others into bad apples.
Even now, it’s not escaped me how Finn cares so much less about what others think.
He’s starting to make decisions more based off of what he thinks I’ll want, instead of himself and those he cares about, and that’s not what I wanted at all.
I wanted him to advocate for himself not me.
“We only have one week left,” I say quietly, enough for Finn to freeze, his fingers mid-twirl of my hair.
“Do we?” he asks, a little too cool to be genuine.
“Well, it will be a month by then.”
His jaw is working overtime, any trace of a good mood vanished. “Yeah, I guess it will be.” His voice is painfully low and clipped. There’s anger mixed with sadness, and it makes his light-brown eyes dip into a darker shade that is almost devoid of color.
“You think we should try plan some big stupendous break-up?”
It’s supposed to be a joke; supposed to be something light and humorous that could bring us back to the time when we could make anything an argument, and yet it ends up spurring him on in a way that I don’t see coming.
A large hand wraps around my throat and drags me closer to him, giving him the chance to crash his lips against mine.
This kiss is possessive, his lips claiming me and branding my own.
He’s biting and nibbling and his grip on my neck is tight, holding me firmly in place.
But, before I can really get into it, my hand only halfway up to the back of his head, he pulls away, leaving me craving more.
“You always taste like cherries,” he whispers against my lips.
I huff out a laugh. “Are you really surprised by that?”
He shakes his head without pulling his forehead away from mine. “Just an observation.”
I pull away, scared that if I stay too close, he’ll see the way I’m falling for him more and more by the day. I fiddle with the hem of my top. “I need to stock up on it, I ran out the other day.”
“Oh, here.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a new tube of the cherry lip gloss that I use.
He holds it out to me, but I make absolutely no move to pick it up.
I just stare. I stare and I stare until my vision turns fuzzy.
I pick at the tightness in my chest, at the rapid thumping of my heart.
I analyze the sweatiness of my palms, the shiver running down my spine.
The more I do so, the more the promise I made to myself crumbles and dissipates into nothing, until I find myself thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be bad at all.
Maybe over time I’ve healed and am no longer a rotten piece of fruit passing off my bad luck to other people.
Finn notices my hesitation and a river of pink runs up his neck. He scratches the back of it nervously.
“I, uh … I always keep one on me just in case,” he explains.
“For how long?” I ask. My voice sounds so flat, so detached.
I don’t look at him. I can’t. Not as he says, “A lot longer than a month,” leaving me with no promise and a pathetically in-love heart.
* * *
The topic of our break-up has remained unfinished, neither of us making the effort to pick up where we left off.
Not that we really left off anywhere other than a nerve-wracking kiss and a tube of cherry lip gloss that I’ve been too afraid to pick up off of the coffee table.
He’s noticed that I’m a bit out of sorts, and yet he’s not said anything.
But I notice the worried looks he sends me when I can see his reflection in the window.
“I’ll see you tonight?” he asks, forehead resting against mine.
“Seeing as I now have a delectable two weeks off, yes you will.”
This week is all about getting this manuscript finished.
Last night was a perfect evening—Finn and I sat side by side on the couch, him working on plans for the new house, me typing away like mad on my laptop.
Knowing that Janelle loved what she read lit a fire under me.
Seeing the both of us rediscover our passions together has formed a bond between us that goes deep.
There’s this new light in Finn’s eyes that wasn’t there before; something bold and defiant that I think shows he’s ready to start taking control of his life and his health.
He was supposed to start back at therapy two weeks ago, but he pushed it back to this week once his employee couldn’t make it to work.
From what I’ve been able to see, the compulsions are still very much present, but the difference is that Finn is no longer allowing them to gain control over his life.
I still see the dip in his smile and the wince he tries to hide when an intrusive thought passes through his mind like a string of barbed wire.
He says that he feels more in control and that lends him strength to understand the difference between anxious thoughts and reality.
Today is his first session after months and I just hope that this upward trajectory he’s on doesn’t fall so far that it will take him months or years to bring it back up.
He smiles down at me, a warmth in his eyes that extends down to his smile.
“I—” He catches himself and my body leans forward in anticipation.
He looks like he’s having an internal debate—a frown here, a look of frustration there.
He looks at war with himself. In the end, with a clenched fist and pinched expression, he says, “I’ll see you later. ”