All the Way (Romancing Manhattan #1)(65)

“I won’t have it,” he says, shaking his head. “No. You’re coming to my place. I’ll give you all the space you want, but you’ll be at home with me, not by yourself in a strange place.”

“Finn.”

He just cocks an eyebrow, and I honestly don’t have it in me to fight with him again right now. I’m exhausted, and not a little numb. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to prove my point, or dig in my heels.

So I just shrug, grab some sweats, clean underwear, and my clutch, and follow him down to his car, which is miraculously waiting when we get outside.

We’re quiet on the short ride to his place. He reaches for my hand, but I pull away and he doesn’t try to touch me again. Once inside his condo, I immediately walk into the guest room and shut the door, strip out of the beautiful dress I bought for today, and get into the shower.

Finally, the tears come, hot and hard. My emotions are all jumbled: anger and sadness, disappointment. Fury. Love. Hurt. I can’t make sense of any of it as I lean on the shower wall, let the water beat down on me, and give in to the tears as they explode out of me like a burst dam.

When the water starts to turn cold, I get out and dry off, wrap my hair in a towel and my body in a robe, and fall on the bed.

My phone pings with a text from Finn.

Do you need anything from me, baby?



Tears fill my eyes again. I love him, but I’m so frustrated with him. I take a deep breath and then reply.

No thank you.



I roll over and turn on the TV, finding some reality TV to play in the background. It dulls the loudness in my head.

I want to forget about all of it, just for a few hours. I don’t want to think about Kyle, my parents, or Finn. L.A. Real estate.

None of it.

But I do text Sasha because I don’t want her to hear about this from anyone else. It would devastate her.

Hey. Quick FYI, and I’ll tell you more later. Kyle showed up at my place, threatened me, and confessed to killing my parents. He’s in jail. I’m safe, at Finn’s. Gonna sleep now because I’m fucking tired, but didn’t want you to hear about it from anyone else.



I reach for a box of tissues and wipe my eyes off, then blow my nose as I wait for Sasha to answer.

Do you need me?



So simple. So Sasha.

Maybe tomorrow?



I smile at her response.

Anytime, love.





Chapter Eighteen

~London~


It was a long night. I slept in fits, and when I woke, I would reach for Finn and then remember everything that happened yesterday. There were so many highs and lows yesterday, I’m not convinced that it wasn’t a bad reality TV show.

But it wasn’t. It was my reality. Everything from the elation of being in love with an incredible man and celebrating his birthday, to being frustrated with that same man, and the horrible scene with Kyle.

I’m sitting on Finn’s rooftop, watching the sun come up over the city. I’ve been up here for about an hour, watching the black sky turn to twilight. Enjoying the quiet. Despite being the city that never sleeps, New York does get quiet in the very early morning hours.

“I made you coffee,” Finn murmurs from beside me. I felt him walk up. I glance up at him and see the hesitation in his chocolate eyes as he passes the steaming mug to me and sits next to me on the chaise.

“Thanks,” I whisper, and take a sip, then lean my head back as the caffeine immediately hits my system. It’s delicious.

He must know that I’m not ready to talk because he wraps his arm around my shoulders, and we sit like this for a while, listening to the city come alive around us. Once my mug is empty, I set it aside, and then lean my head on his shoulder, enjoying the way he feels.

I admit, I missed him last night.

And yet, I’m still so damn mad at him I don’t know what to do with myself.

“London,” he says softly, and kisses the top of my head. “I would appreciate it if you’d talk to me, sweetheart.”

Here we go.

I’m not ready for this conversation, but it looks like we’re going to have it whether I want to or not.

I wish he’d just let me go to the hotel last night, just to get a little distance from him to sort everything out.

“London,” he tries again.

“I hear you,” I murmur, my voice scratchy from a night of crying and nightmares.

“Talk to me,” he repeats, and I have to stand and walk to the side of the rooftop, facing away from him as I gather my thoughts. “You know, I can deal with a lot of things, but I absolutely hate the silent treatment.”

I turn now, lift my chin, and look him squarely in the eyes.

“I’m not giving you the silent treatment.”

“Well, you’re not speaking to me, so if that’s not the silent treatment, I don’t know what is.”

I nod and look down at my feet, my arms crossed over my chest, and then back at him.

“Okay, I’m going to be brutally honest. I’m so fucking pissed off.”

He frowns. “At me?”

“Hell yes, at you. At pretty much everybody. I told you last night what I needed. I explained that I love you, but I really needed a night by myself.”

“I didn’t want you to be by yourself,” he replies, and stands, shoving his hands in his jeans.