Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
OAKLEIGH
“So, how is it all going?”
Wren pops a piece of popcorn into her mouth as she eagerly awaits an answer.
“Something tells me you’re not asking about life in general.”
“No, to be honest, the rest of your life in comparison is just so goddamn boring now.” She grins.
My eyes roll, but I give her the information that she’s looking for.
“Things between Finley and me are going really well,” I tell her. “We’re just trying to simply enjoy the time that we’re spending together.”
“Are you hoping that it’ll all work out? That this is … you know … it?”
My chest tightens and I’m overcome with the urge to run away from the conversation. “I don’t want to put any pressure on it.”
Wren’s wide smile and relaxed posture are a complete juxtaposition to my hunched shoulders and feigned happiness.
“God, this couldn’t be any more perfect! Just imagine if things do work out—no pressure, of course, but just imagine! We’d be sisters!”
Something that I’d wish could happen if she had any other siblings, but I fear things are too complicated between Finn and me for it to ever develop into anything more.
But as I watch my best friend bounce up and down from the mere idea, I wish more than anything that I didn’t have to eventually break her heart and tell her that Finn and I have parted ways.
The thought alone has my stomach lurching. The idea of Finn and I no longer having a reason to be this close is something my body finds utterly disagreeable.
I hope that Finn hasn’t been giving Wren any false hope, past what we’re already providing.
I hope he hasn’t been telling her that marriage is in our future or that we’re a match made in heaven.
I hope he’s been skirting around the truth like I have, giving her bits and pieces of hope slotted in between slabs of reality.
My phone buzzes incessantly in my pocket. Speak of the Devil. Wren sees the caller ID and somehow makes the connection.
“He’s your boyfriend, but you still have him down under ‘Dumbass?’”
“Did he stop being a dumbass the moment he started being my boyfriend?”
Wren shrugs. “Good point.”
Instead of a phone call, I seem to be the victim of a serial texter.
Dumbass
May I steal my girlfriend’s attention, please?
May I steal it quicker?
Quicker
Quicker
Oakleigh Frances Michaels
If you don’t answer, I’m going to start calling you by your middle name.
Franny, answer me!
“Okay, yeah, the name might be right,” Wren says as she reads the messages over my shoulder.
I laugh as I type my response.
Call me Franny one more time and I’ll replace a pair of your work boots with a smaller pair.
Two seconds later, he’s replying.
Dumbass
That was unnecessarily rude.
That was a justified retaliation.
Dumbass
Fair enough.
Now, can I be lucky enough to steal your attention?
I can’t stop the smile from stretching across my lips.
You already have it.
Dumbass
And for that, I’m a lucky man.
Okay, what I wanted to say was that I need a favor.
Name it. Unless it’s pegging, then don’t name it.
Dumbass
By telling me what not to name, you yourself needed to name it, therefore it’s already been named.
Finley Jonathan.
Dumbass
*kissing emoji*
What’s the favor, Dumbass?
Dumbass
Oh, yeah, that.
I need you to go to your house.
Wren and I both look at one another before going back to my phone.
For what possible reason?
Dumbass
There’s a surprise for you that I fear will expire if you don’t come quickly.
Expire?
Dumbass
Well, last I checked, cherry pie tastes horrendous when the ice cream has melted all over it. Essentially just cherry soup by that point.
My eyes widen and my grin turns to a full-blown smile.
Tell me you’re not fucking with me.
Dumbass
If I was fucking you, Cherry, I wouldn’t just be a lucky man, I’d be a fucking four-leaf clover, horseshoe and rabbit’s foot all rolled into one.
“Hold up,” Wren chimes in. “I don’t really want the details because he’s my brother … but are you two not fucking yet?”
“Umm…” Words desert me, and I end up scrambling for something to say. “Well … not as far as that, no, but ya know … we … um … do … ya know … stuff.”
Wren watches me like I’ve just told her that I’ve decided to shave off all my hair and go live in a yurt in the woods.
“What the hell do the two of you do when you’re alone?” She holds up a hand before I can reply. “No, scratch that, I have a better question: what the hell do you do when you’re horny?”
With wide eyes, I give a weak shrug and say, “Stuff.”
“Wow.” She doesn’t know what to do with this information, and to be honest, neither do I. That was the most awkward way I could have spoken about our sex life; or lack thereof.
What fails to escape me is the disappointment that creeps its way inside of me. I suppose something should since Finn isn’t.
My phone buzzes once more.
Dumbass
Tick tock, Cherry. There are fruity lives at stake over here.
I look at my best friend pleadingly. With a roll of her eyes, she waves me off. “Go.”
I squeal and give her the biggest hug and kiss that was supposed to be for her cheek, but she moves at the last second and I end up getting her slap bang on the mouth. Oh, well, not the first time.
I’m at the door of her house, car keys in hand, when she calls out, “But if I don’t hear that something found its way inside of you by tomorrow, I won’t ever forgive you!”
“Still your brother we’re talking about!”
The last thing I see before closing the front door is Wren’s distraught expression.
* * *
By the time I pull up to my house, the summer sun has almost fully set, bright orange slowly melting into purple as the moon takes its rightful place.
When I left Wren’s house, I was filled with excitement at the thought of a slice of Lori’s cherry pie. I’m in her bakery at least once a week. If I lived in Eaglewood, it would definitely be more.
However, that excitement has morphed into a bundle of nerves and anxiety that is sitting in my stomach, making it lurch from one side to another.
Being intimate with Finn has of course been something I’ve thought about, more so recently.
Every time he rests a hand on my lower back or manages to find that one bit of exposed skin on my body to draw on and tease, it makes me wish we were alone.
Yet, when we are alone, it’s as if he avoids doing those very things.
It makes me wonder if he’s interested in that side of things, and something tells me to doubt it.
Why else would he refrain from touching me like that unless he’s trying to let me know that those touches and teasers are simply acting?
With a deep breath, I step out of my car with shaky legs. I lock my car and hold my bag tightly to my side as I walk up my walkway. Before I can even pull out my keys, Finn has the door open, standing to the side with a smile on his face and a welcoming arm out.
“About time you got here,” he says, a smile that could melt butter stretching his lips.
“Sorry, I was attempting to get myself out of a situation I created with your sister.”
His smile falters. “What happened?”
“She was reading the messages the whole time and she saw your message about being more than lucky if, you know, we were fucking, so she asked if we were sleeping together and I … freaked out.”
Amusement swims in his dark eyes, but his face remains calm and neutral. “And according to my darling little sister, are we sleeping together?”
“We are tonight.” The words come out shaky and breathless.
Finn’s eyebrow almost meets his hairline. “Interesting.”
My heart rate picks up. “You find it interesting?”
He watches me as he lets out a low hum that I feel below my waistline. I tense my thighs together on instinct, but it does nothing to ease my growing anticipation.
He shakes his head and snaps out of whatever daze he put himself in, but I still feel the heat in his gaze. His eyes remain even darker than usual, and he bites his lip in a way that keeps drawing my attention.
“I believe I owe you a slice of pie,” he says, moving toward the kitchen. He gestures to my living room. “Relax. Take a seat. I’ll bring it over.”
I’m turned halfway toward the living room, when a strong hand spins me, turning me until I’m flush against a hard chest. The laughter that bubbles out of me is halted by Finn’s lips against mine.
This kiss isn’t like his usual ones—it’s sweet and slow and intimate.
I love the way he usually kisses me—rough and demanding—but this is just as mind-bending.
It still captures my attention, but this time Finn is kindly letting me know he needs it.
Other times, he lets me know that it’s not something up for debate.
When he pulls away, we’re not left breathless, but speechless. He goes in for a final soft touch of our lips before using the same hand to spin me back round.
I finally manage to compose myself, but when I see what he’s done with the room, I’m a mess all over again.
More candles than I know what to do with are dotted about—on the coffee table, on the shelves, and in big dishes on the floor.
Two big blankets are spread out over the couch, the L-shaped sofa now a large rectangle thanks to the hidden part underneath that pulls out to turn it into a bed.
The lighting is low, the atmosphere cozy, and the effort undeniable.
It’s one big fire hazard, but a romantic one.
“Finley,” I breathe.
I feel him behind me, his warmth coating my back in a way that comforts and reassures. A hand swings around me holding a glass of wine, which I take, my mouth wide in shock.
“You didn’t really think we weren’t going to celebrate your accomplishments, did you?” He breathes the words against my ears sending shivers down my spine and lifting goosebumps from my skin.
He lightly nudges me toward the couch and I follow his lead, only stopping to slip my shoes off. I fall onto the sofa, grateful for the comfort of my own home and the added blanket to put around my legs. It may be summer but Finn for some reason has my AC on high.