All the Way (Romancing Manhattan #1)(52)

“Okay. What are you and Finn doing tonight, besides getting naked?”

“I don’t know, I’m too tired to make plans, so hopefully we will watch TV and then go to bed.”

“God, you sound old.”

“I feel old today. I’m tired. I’ll tell you all about it later. I have to hail a cab.”

“Okay. Talk to you later.”

I rattle off Finn’s address to the driver and climb in the backseat. It’s almost dark now, which surprises me, but then I realize that I just lost three hours with the time change. The drive is uneventful, and quicker than I expect. I pay the driver, and Finn’s doorman smiles as he opens the door for me.

“Hello, Miss Watson.”

“Hello, Doug. Thanks.”

He nods and I walk to the elevator.

I can’t wait to crash on Finn’s couch.

Or on Finn.

Once on Finn’s floor, I knock on his door, and he opens it, as if he was waiting on the other side.

“I missed you,” he says, pulling me inside and into his arms. Thank God. This is exactly what I needed.

“I missed you too.” I bury my nose in his neck and hold on tightly, breathing him in. “You smell good.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m tired.” I pull back to look at him. “But I’m much better now that I’m here.”

“I’m glad. I have something to show you, if you’re up to it.”

“Do I have to go very far?”

“No, not very far.” He brushes his thumb over the apple of my cheek, and I’m pretty sure I’d go anywhere with him right now.

“Lead the way.”

He takes my hand and leads me to the back of his condo, presses a button, and an elevator door opens.

“I’ve never seen this before.”

“This leads to my rooftop,” he explains with a smile.

“You have a rooftop? Like, of your own?”

“Yes, I own it,” he says, and presses the up button. When the door opens, and he leads me out into the warm night, I stop and stare.

There are lights strung back and forth across the length of the space. Candles are lit, and there are red roses on every surface possible.

“That’s a lot of flowers,” I murmur, completely shell-shocked.

“I called the florist and asked for roses,” he explains, leading me to a seating area in the middle of the space. “When they asked me how many I wanted, I told them to send all of them. I had no idea it was quite this many.”

“They smell amazing.”

He smiles and guides me down on a plush chair, then sits in the chair next to me.

If he gets on one knee and pulls out a ring, I might throw up.

We’re not there yet.

He does lift a wrapped box off the table and offer it to me.

“This is for you.”

I look at him with so many questions swirling in my head, take the box, and stare down at it.

“This is a lot.”

“I missed you,” he repeats, and brushes my hair off of my cheek, hooking it behind my ear.

“I guess so.” I take a deep breath and unwrap the box, stopping cold at the sight of the signature black Chanel box. “Finn.”

“Open it,” he urges.

Inside the box is the stunning black handbag I had my eye on several weeks ago when we went shopping together. I had intended to go back for it, but ended up buying something else instead.

This bag is a dream.

“I know you don’t need me to buy these things for you,” he says, and rubs his hand up and down my back. “I wanted to buy it for you. It’s not your birthday, or any holiday. I wanted to get you something that you’d love, because I love you, London.”

I blink rapidly and stare up at him in surprise. He finally said the words, and he put this gorgeous evening together for me.

“Wow,” I say at last, staring at the flowers, the lights above, and this amazing gift in my hands. “Thank you so much. It’s all amazing.”

“And appropriate?”

His lips are twitching in that way they do when he’s particularly happy with me, and I can’t help but laugh and launch myself into his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Yes, it’s appropriate. You’re quite the romantic, Finn Cavanaugh.”

“It seems I am. I’m quite surprised myself.”

I sigh and let myself enjoy the feel of his arms around me.

“Is something bothering you?” he asks quietly, his lips settled against my hair.

“I’m more exhausted than I expected to be,” I admit. “And frankly, it scares me a little. I only had two full days of work, and I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“It was a lot of work,” he reminds me. “Is your leg okay?”

“It doesn’t hurt. It’s a mental exhaustion more than anything. Who knew that stepping outside of your comfort zone could wipe you out?”

“Here.” He picks me up and carries me to the outdoor sofa. “Lie down. Put your head in my lap.”

“I am usually happy to oblige you with a blow job, Finn, but I’m really—”

“Funny,” he says, interrupting me. “Just relax, sweetheart.”