by Isla Drake
Finn’s face is carefully neutral as though he’s waiting to see my reaction before choosing his own. I’m worried he regrets what just happened. If he does, I’m not sure I want to know.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I just need to get home to Liam. I’m already late.” Apparently, I’ve chosen avoidance as my coping mechanism. I can see the moment his eyes change. Something that looks like regret lurks in them. I feel my heart clench painfully before the words leave his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“Don’t.” The word comes out before I can stop it. Harsh. Forceful. Angry. “Do not apologize for this, Finn. Don’t you dare.”
He goes silent and I finish dressing quickly. That look doesn’t leave his eyes as he watches me. I snatch up my heels and carry them as I quickly leave Finn’s office. I make my way to my office to grab my purse then out the back door. I tell myself I’m not running away from Finn. I’m making a strategic retreat so I can regroup. I need time to think about what just happened. I don’t see anyone on my walk to my car. It’s late and most of the guests are either in bed already or out partying. I doubt they’ll be back before the early morning hours. Once in my car, I sneak a look at myself in the mirror. I swipe away a bit of smudged mascara and run my fingers through my hair to tame it. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then I drive home.
Chapter Twelve
Hannah
Margo is sitting on the couch, scrolling through her cellphone when I get home. She’s a high school senior who lives a few houses down. She babysits Liam on the nights I have to work late. She smiles when she sees me enter and stands. Within seconds, she’s at the door, purse in hand. The best thing about teenaged babysitters is that they don’t linger. They’re ready to escape the moment you get back.
“He was great,” Margo says, reaching for the doorknob. “He ate almost all of his dinner, brushed his teeth and barely argued about bedtime.”
“Thanks Margo.” I fish out some cash from my purse. “I really appreciate you staying with him.”
“No problem.” She smiles again. “Let me know if you need me again. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” I smile until the door closes behind Margo. As soon as I’m alone, I let out a weary sigh, dropping the cheery façade.
I make my way down the hall and I peek in at Liam who’s sleeping soundly before I walk to my own room. I strip naked, leaving everything in a heap on the floor then step into a nearly scalding shower. I stand unmoving for a full sixty seconds, allowing the hot water to beat against my skin. It takes another thirty seconds for the tears to come.
How could I have been so stupid? I allow myself a few minutes of self-pity mixed with a healthy dose of self-flagellation before I scrub away the remnants of makeup and shame from my face. There’s a distinct soreness between my legs that surprises me, though it shouldn’t. It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex and even then, it was nothing like what I just experienced with Finn. That thought sends a delicious thrill through me, quickly followed by embarrassment. What happened tonight is something I know I’ll never forget, no matter how long I live. I’m still pissed at Finn for his apology, but I decide I don’t regret what happened between us.
By the time I step out of the shower, I’ve resolved to go to work tomorrow and act as normal as possible. I still have a job to do and a wedding to coordinate. The world does not revolve around Finnegan King.
Chapter Thirteen
Finn
I can only watch as Hannah leaves, unable to summon the words to make her stay. After the door closes behind her, I pull on the rest of my clothes and slump into the chair behind my desk. Ten minutes pass and I can still see her look of anger and pain when I'd apologized. Why had I said I was sorry? Am I sorry? No. I don't think I am. I just had the most incredible sex of my life with a woman I’ve wanted for years. It was beyond anything I ever imagined. I’m growing hard again just remembering the way she felt in my arms. I can’t bring myself to regret it. But the truth is, I'm her boss and I can't help but wonder if I've just taken advantage of her. Yes, I've wanted her for years. But I've always been so careful not to do or say anything inappropriate, so careful to keep my feelings in check. In the last hour, I managed to ruin years of hard work.
And it had been a spectacular leap beyond the limits of propriety. Had my goal been not saying or doing anything inappropriate? I think that ship has officially sailed. I'd say nailing your employee up against the wall of your office counts as inappropriate. How could I have been so fucking stupid? I let my dick call the shots and now everything is screwed up. There's no way to bring things between us back to what they were.
I rub my hands over my face, trying to wipe away the memory of the hurt in Hannah's eyes. It’s no use. Every time I close my eyes, I can see her mouth drop open as I said those two words. She was furious, but worse, she was hurt. By me. I feel like the world’s biggest asshole. I have to find a way to make things right.
I wait until I’m certain Hannah has made it home, then give it a few more minutes in case Liam is awake and she needs to put him back to bed. I wait a few more minutes, just to be on the safe side. I tell myself I’m not stalling. I’m just being considerate. Besides, I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to say. I just know I can’t leave things the way they are. I know I need to talk to Hannah. I need to make sure she’s okay, smooth things over. I don’t know if I’ll be able to, but I have to try. Before I lose my nerve, I press the button to call her. I hear three full rings before she answers. She doesn’t answer with the typical ‘hello’.
"What do you want, Finn?" Hannah says with a sigh. She doesn't sound angry right now. Instead, she sounds sad. That might be worse. I feel a stab of guilt. I think I prefer the anger.
"I want to fix this," I say. "I screwed up."
She makes a choking sound. "Really?" The sadness seems to have left her voice in the space of a heartbeat and the anger is back. I'm starting to reconsider which is worse. "You screwed up? Hm. I see."
"Hannah, listen," I begin, but she cuts me off.
"No, Finn. You can listen to me. I don't want your apology. What happened, happened. We were both very active participants and I don't remember hearing either one of us say no. Do you?"
I sigh. "No, but—”
"Good." Hannah doesn't let me finish. "Now that that's settled, let's get one other thing straight. I knew exactly what I was doing tonight. I'm just as responsible as you are for what happened. I wasn't drunk and you didn't take advantage of me. I wanted it. I wanted you. And I'm not sorry. You'll have to find a way to deal with your own issues."
I'm stunned into momentary silence. Hannah uses the moment to speak again.
"It's late and I'm tired," she says. "Goodnight, Finn."
There's a click, then nothing. Silence. She hung up on me. I stare at my cellphone, wondering just how everything had gone so wrong in such a short time.
Chapter Fourteen
Hannah
I wake up early after a night filled with hazy dreams where I relive the events in Finn's office. Which only leaves me feeling exhausted and on edge. I allow myself a few minutes of lying in bed trying to come up with a reasonable excuse for why I can’t go to work today. But in the end, I know better. I never miss work. Today is no different. Besides, I’m going to be so busy with the wedding that I won’t have time to worry about Finn.
At the thought of him, I feel that familiar flutter low in my belly. Only this time it’s accompanied by the incredibly vivid memory of the night before. It was much easier to pretend I didn’t want him before I knew what it was like to be with him. I curl up on my side, hugging my knees to my chest, trying to banish the images. It’s no use. It’s as if my body has finally realized what it’s been missing all these years and it wants more. Not that I blame my stupid body. Sex with Finn was amazing. Anyone would want more of that. Frustrated, I climb out of bed and go about getting ready for the day. It’s a full hour earlier than I usually wake up during t
he week, but my sleep is ruined. I might as well get moving.
I take extra time on my hair and makeup. It’s going to have to last through a hectic morning all the way through the late afternoon ceremony. It’s going to be another long day. On a whim I decide to wake Liam up early so we can have breakfast at Momma Jean’s before he goes to school. It’s something we normally do on the weekends or during the summer when he doesn’t have school, but it’ll be a nice surprise for him. I didn’t get to have dinner with him the night before because of the rehearsal and I probably won’t be there tonight either with the wedding. We could definitely use some mother-son time.
Momma Jean’s isn’t too crowded when Liam and I arrive, which is a good thing. On the weekends there can sometimes be lines out the door. We find a couple of empty seats at the counter and study the menu together. It’s no surprise that he wants French toast. It’s what he always wants when we come here, but he always looks at the menu as though he’s going to see something new on there that will change his mind. So far it hasn’t happened. After we place our order, I turn to Liam.
“So,” I say. “What do you want to do this weekend?”
“You don’t have to work?”
I shake my head. “Just tonight. But no weddings this weekend.”
He smiles, sipping his hot cocoa. His eyes narrow as he thinks for a moment. “Picnic on the beach?”
I give him a look like I’m considering his idea. “Could be fun,” I say. “Let me check the weather.”
He grins and takes another sip of his cocoa, practically bouncing in his seat. His teacher may hate me later after the sugar high kicks in. I take my phone out of my purse and pull up the weather app. Scrolling down, I see that a storm is expected to pass through on Sunday, but tomorrow looks promising. Nice and sunny. Not too hot. I turn to Liam to tell him when I see his face light up at something behind me.
“Finn!”
That single word from Liam has me cringing inwardly. Before I can react, Liam hops down off his stool and runs past me toward the cash register. I turn and watch as he runs up to Finn and begins chattering. Finn smiles down at Liam indulgently before looking around until he spots me. We lock eyes for a moment across the crowded room. Finn looks a little uncertain, but eventually he gives me a hesitant smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves before returning the smile. I might as well walk over. It would look odd if I didn’t. Besides, I’m going to have to deal with him eventually. Granted, I hadn’t planned to see him quite so soon, but it can’t be helped now. I stand and make my way over to where Finn is waiting for a to-go order. Liam is still talking.
“And then I hit a double! Everybody cheered and stupid Tommy didn’t say anything at all.”
“Hey,” I say, giving Liam a disapproving look. “Don’t call people stupid.”
Liam curls his lip. “Well he is,” he mutters.
I work hard not to smile or laugh. “Even if he is, you don’t get to call him names. Got it?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Good.”
I glance up at Finn who’s struggling to mask his own amusement. I feel the awkward tension between us dissolve. I’m still mad at him, but I don’t think we’ve ruined things between us. I hope.
He looks down at Liam and holds out a fist. “Nice! Bump it.” Liam grins and bumps his little fist lightly against Finn’s.
The young man behind the counter calls out Finn’s name, causing us all to look his way. Finn takes his cup and bag, thanking the man. I glance back toward our spot at the counter and see the server carrying over two plates.
“Food’s here,” I say to Liam. “We better eat so you won’t be late.”
“You don’t want to have to deal with that cranky lady in the front office,” Finn says. He gives a theatrical shudder.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. Liam giggles. “That’s Miss Stokes. Momma says she’s mean.”
My mouth drops open. “Hey! I never said that.”
Liam points at me. “You said she never smiles.”
I don’t have a response for that, so I just say, “Go eat your French Toast. Maybe it’ll keep you from telling Finn everything I say.”
Liam grins and waves at Finn. “Bye!” He runs back to his seat and digs into his breakfast.
I turn back to look at Finn. He looks nervous now that Liam isn’t there to act as a buffer. I take pity on him.
“I’ll see you at work.” I keep my voice bright and casual, adding in a little wave.
He nods. “Yep. See you.”
Then he turns and walks out of the café as quickly as his legs will carry him. Did I hope things wouldn’t be awkward between us? We couldn’t make it a full minute alone without one of us running for the hills. That’s going to make work more interesting. I make my way back to my chair and do my best not to think about it. Instead, I focus on Liam and my omelet. And I absolutely do not think about how good Finn had smelled just now.
The morning passes quickly in the pre-wedding frenzy. I spend it putting out a million tiny fires while trying to maintain an air of calm in the chaos. I’m also avoiding Finn, if I’m being totally honest with myself. I’ve steered clear of the hallway leading to his office all morning hoping not to run into him. Each time I catch a glimpse of his closed door, I remember the night before and a little thrill runs through me. I still can’t believe I let things go that far. Let? Who am I kidding? I was an active, willing participant. I loved every minute of it and heaven help me, but I’d do it again. If I close my eyes, I can see his dark hair between my thighs as he’d worked me over with his mouth. I have to keep reminding myself to focus and push thoughts of last night from my mind. It isn’t like me to be so distracted at work. Then again, what happened last night was also out of character for me. In an effort to focus and stop thinking of Finn every 26 seconds, I decide to avoid the entire back hallway of the main house. I’m not stupid. I know it won’t last. But I’m desperate.
I survive the morning and even manage to carve out 15 minutes to eat a quick lunch in my office. As I’m finishing up, a knock at the door catches my attention. My office door is nearly always open and today is no different. When I look up, I see a woman in a delivery uniform carrying a vase filled with dusty pink peonies.
“I have a delivery,” she says.
I shake my head and stand. “For the Harmon wedding?” It must be a gift for the bride. I know it’s not for the actual ceremony. The bride had chosen hydrangeas for her main flower. The peonies are beautiful, but they’ll definitely clash with the wedding décor.
The woman looked at an invoice in her hand. “Hannah Travis?” she asked, looking at me.
Confused, I just nod. “That’s me.”
She thrusts the vase toward me. “Then these are for you.”
I have no choice but to take the flowers even though I’m sure there’s been some kind of mistake. This is just another issue I’ll have to iron out before the ceremony. I thank the woman and she turns to leave. I study the flowers up close. They’re gorgeous, full blooms interspersed with simple greenery that only highlights the beauty of the flowers. I smile. I love peonies. I know they’re one of the most popular wedding flowers and probably a total cliché, but there’s something about them that I love. They signal romance and sweetness in my eyes and I can’t stop myself from raising the bouquet to my face and taking in their delicate fragrance. I let one of the flowers lightly brush my cheek before turning back toward my desk. When I set the vase down, I notice a small white envelope nestled in among the blossoms. My name is handwritten on the outside.
For some reason, I turn and look around my office as though someone might be watching. My door is still open, but the hallway outside is empty. Still, I walk over and push it closed. When I turn back, the flowers dominate my vision, a splash of feminine color in my otherwise neutral-toned office. Before I can think too hard about it, I stride over and pull the card out of the bouquet. I study my name on the
envelope but it’s in a handwriting I don’t recognize. Which means exactly nothing. The note was probably written by the florist. I roll my eyes at my own ridiculous nerves and make myself open the card.
Hannah,
Have dinner with me tomorrow night? I think we should talk.
Please don’t say no.
-Finn
I sit in one of the chairs facing my desk, still staring at the card. Finn wants to have dinner. He wants to talk. I don’t know why this comes as such a shock. I’d known we would eventually have to discuss what happened. We can’t just pretend nothing happened and go on with our lives. There’s no way that would work. Our brief interaction at breakfast was enough to blow that theory out of the water. But dinner? Just the two of us? Am I ready for that? I glance at my watch and see that I don’t have time to think about it right now. I need to get back to overseeing the wedding prep.
My eyes go from the card to the flowers and back again. I realize that my foot is bouncing up and down in a nervous rhythm and I force myself to still. I wish I had someone to talk to. I need advice. I don’t have time to call Quinn right now. I haven’t told her what happened last night, and I know that conversation is going to take longer than I have right now. I resolve to call her tonight after the wedding is over. I take another long look at the flowers, feeling a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. Finn sent me flowers. I allow myself a few seconds to grin like an idiot before tucking the card into my pocket, taking a deep breath and heading back to the ballroom. Work first. Then I can deal with whatever the hell is happening in my personal life.
Chapter Fifteen
Finn
The afternoon goes by more slowly than I like even with the hundreds of things that go into preparing for the wedding. I’m grateful that my help is mostly not needed. I’m honest enough with myself to understand that there are other people far more skilled in this area than I. I help with the heavy lifting when I’m needed and mostly try to stay out of the way of the pros. Hannah is in her element though. She’s like a tiny drill instructor. It seems like she’s everywhere at once, pointing, directing, and orchestrating all the little behind-the-scenes details that make events like this seem so effortless. And somehow, she does it all with a smile. She never looks annoyed or exhausted, though I know she must be after such a long week. Occasionally, when she thinks no one is looking, I’ll see her press her fists into her lower back or roll her neck in a tired stretch. She only lets her guard down for a moment, but it’s enough to let me know she’s human under all that seemingly inexhaustible energy.
