Heartbreaker(23)

One day, Finn would be coming home.



I’m finishing up my laundry when there’s a knock at the door. “It’s open!” I yell, expecting Lottie and Kit to help make cookies, but instead, a male voice clears his throat behind me.

“Cute panties.”

I whirl around, clutching an armful of pink lace.

He’s here. Finn. Standing in my kitchen, smirking at my underwear like the past three hours haven’t happened at all.

“What are you doing here?” I flush, sweeping my clean laundry into the hamper. And worst of all, I realize too late that his album is still playing on loud.

Finn pauses as the music slips out, unmistakable, and gives me a knowing grin.

“It’s the radio,” I say, flushing, just as the song ends – and it moves to the next track on the album.

“Uh huh.” The smile doesn’t shift.

I glare. “Well? What do you want?”

“You said the door was open.” Finn grins.

I open my mouth to argue, then stop, registering the bouquet of roses in his hand. Not store-bought, but the sweet-scented white ones that grow wild in the mansion gardens. I look back up at Finn. There’s something different about him. His hair is back in a neat man-bun, he’s wearing a button-down shirt, and are those…?

“Slacks.” I say in disbelief. “You’re wearing slacks.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grins.

“But why?”

He shrugs. “I’m wooing you.”

“You’re what?” The words sound so bizarre, I laugh out loud in shock.

“Wooing,” he repeats, strolling closer and setting the roses on the kitchen counter. “In certain cultures, it’s tradition for a man to pursue a woman with romantic gestures and gifts. You know, flowers, candy, teddy bears from the county fair.”

“I know what wooing is,” I tell him briskly, gathering up the rest of my clothes and walking past him into the hall. “But I don’t know why you’re trying it with me. Didn’t we just have a conversation about you quitting with all these games?”

“This isn’t a game,” he says, following me to the stairs. He waits until I’ve put down the hamper, then pulls something from his back pocket. It’s a box of candy, chocolates. “Your favorites,” he adds, presenting them to me ceremoniously. “I even ate all the nutty ones you hate.”

I stare at him, at his infuriatingly handsome face, and those smiling blue eyes, and the candy he’s handing out like he disappeared without a word.

Five years, and he suddenly brings me a Whitman’s sampler. Is he for real?

Yes, my heart tells me. Say yes.

“I guess I should be flattered.” I try to joke it away. “Used to be all it took was a smile and a wink to get the girls in the backseat of your car.”

“I’m a changed man.” Finn’s smile gets wider.

“Sure you are.”

“I drive a Mustang now.” He laughs. “The backseat’s heated. Not that we ever needed the help,” he adds, giving me a slow burn grin.

No, we didn’t. God, we steamed up the windows of that old car any chance we got. The memories play like a movie in my mind, how we would sneak away and park in the shade of the cypress trees. Some nights, we just talked, my head on his chest, so close I could hear his heart beat. It was the steadiest lullaby I’ve ever known.

But other nights… I couldn’t have slept if you drugged me, the heady mix of desire ricocheting through my system. I drove my parents crazy, breaking curfew every other night to see him that summer until they pretty much gave up trying to keep me in my own bed. It was one of the perks of being a good girl, good student, great grades. I’d never misbehaved in my life, so I guess they trusted me enough to think I’d make the right call.

Now, Finn smiles like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

He turns and saunters out the front door before I have a chance to realize what he’s just said.

“Wait!” I go after him. “You can’t… I mean, I don’t…”

Finn looks up at me from the bottom of the steps. “Sorry, but I’m all out of gifts. You’ll just have to wait until tonight.”

I shake my head in frustration. I hate to show him that he’s getting under my skin, but I can’t play along any more. Every charming grin, every casual smile, it’s like a knife wound to my heart. “You have to stop this. Please, Finn.” My voice cracks. “This isn’t funny.”

Finn’s smile fades. “I know, sweetheart. Like I said, see you at eight.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me fuming on the front porch until I realize that for all my protests, I never actually turned him down.





Eight.


I agonize all afternoon over what to do. A date is impossible. Unthinkable after everything that’s happened. Haven’t I been telling myself all day, no more games?

But he promised it was different this time.

I groan out loud. Why does he have to be so damn charming? I shouldn’t even be here when he comes back to pick me up. I could go to Lottie’s, and have dinner there and hang out? and leave Finn stranded on the front porch not knowing where the hell I am. That would teach him to be so arrogant, just assuming I’m going to drop everything because he strolls on by to say ‘hi’. Maybe I’d get to wipe that knowing smile off his face, the one that says he sees right through me and knows every last one of my secret thoughts.