I looked over at the small statue of a goddess and made a silent prayer to her that Finn would come home early from his date. Otherwise, this was going to be a new level of awkward.
Scarlett
Five hours later and Finn wasn’t home. The ceremony was long since over and I’d survived. Well, I’d survived physically. My dignity hadn’t taken a hit that big since I’d moved away from home.
Since Amelia had gone to bed, I’d been working on Finn’s birthday painting. I probably should have gone to bed as well, but I’d been too busy pretending not to care that he was on a date. Probably kissing her with all those mad kissing skills he had. Maybe somewhere dimly lit. Maybe somewhere romantic with music playing. Touching her hair…
I took off my apron, scrunched it up and threw it on the floor. It didn’t have enough weight to make a satisfying sound when it landed. My brushes, on the other hand…
I sank to the floor, disgusted that I’d considered harming my new brushes—the ones Finn had bought me for my birthday a couple of months ago.
If I was going to date, then Finn had every right to date as well. I just wished it had been on a night when I’d had a date, too, so I wasn’t stuck home thinking about it. I covered my face with my hands.
Finn’s car pulled into our driveway and I crept over to the attic window, hoping to see a vacant passenger seat. Unfortunately, I caught sight of a person-shaped outline sitting there, then an actual person opened the passenger door and waited for Finn to come around.
Should I go down and greet them, or hide out up here and pretend it wasn’t happening? Eventually, curiosity got the better of me and I made my way down the stairs to meet the girl who had possibly kissed Finn.
“Hey, Scarlett,” Finn said when he saw me. “Marnie, this is Scarlett, my roommate.”
Marnie looked me up and down then plastered a big smile on her face. “Nice to meet you, Scarlett! Finn has told me so much about you.”
Once Finn’s dates found out his roommate was female and his best friend, they usually fell into one of two camps. The first group resented me and tried to cut me out, but they usually didn’t last after they realized he was serious when he said I was a non-negotiable in his life.
The second group offered me fake friendship to get brownie points with Finn, or to get inside information on him, or whatever crazy-ass reason they had.
It seemed that Marnie belonged in camp number two.
I smiled back. “Nice to meet you, too, Marnie. You here for a nightcap? Appletini, perhaps?”
Finn scowled at me. “She’s going to see if she can play my flute.”
“That’s not a euphemism, is it?” I batted my eyelashes innocently at them both.
“No, Scarlett,” he said, his voice exasperated. “It’s not. Marnie plays the flute in an orchestra and offered to look at the reed flute I’ve been making.”
“Oh, good. Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page. In case, you know, you wanted me to turn the music up loud.”
Finn’s eyes looked pained as he shook his head. “Marnie, I’ll just grab the flute.”
Marnie turned to me. “Finn tells me you’re an artist.”
“Does he?”
“I’d love to see one of your paintings.”
“Sure. Come on,” I said, and headed down the hall. The obvious thing was to take her to my painting room—it was where most of my work was, and was dedicated to my art. But it was my sacred space. The only person I allowed in that room was Finn, and that was mainly because it was his house. I certainly wasn’t taking Fake Friend Marnie in there.
So I showed her into Finn’s bedroom instead.
Maybe there was a slight hope that she’d be horrified by the teddy bear theme, but I was really just doing what she’d asked—showing her some of my paintings.
I switched the light on and waved an arm around his room.
She frowned. “Is this Finn’s room?”
It wasn’t hard to work out—there were man-clothes all over the place, a tie over the back of a chair, and a can of masculine deodorant on his bedside table.
“Yep,” I said. “Those teddy bear paintings are mine.”
She looked at me curiously. “He’s got your paintings all over his bedroom wall?”
I shrugged. “Well, they were birthday and Christmas presents, so they’re actually all his. I just meant I’d painted them.”
“And he hung them around his bed?” She arched an eyebrow.
Unsure what she meant, I frowned. They were his paintings and this was his room. What was wrong with that?
Before I could reply, Finn appeared behind us in the hallway.
“Scarlett,” he said with a warning in his voice. “What are you doing?”
“Marnie said she wanted to see some of my paintings.”
“So you took her into my bedroom?” he asked, incredulous.
Yeah, well, I could see now that it hadn’t been my best idea, but hindsight was twenty-twenty.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” I said lamely.
Drawing in a controlled breath, he turned to Marnie. “I’ve found the flute. How about we look at it in the living room?” He looked pointedly at me.
“Right,” I said, straightening. “Sorry to bail on you, but I really have to… do… a thing. In my room. Finn, I’ll see you in the morning. Marnie, nice to meet you.”
Once in my room, I closed my door, put my earbuds in, and hit play on my favorite playlist. Then I turned the volume up, so I didn’t accidentally overhear Marnie playing Finn’s flute.
Chapter Seven
Finn
As I walked through the front door of Scarlett’s work, she saw me and waved, though I could tell she was surprised.
“Hey,” I said as I approached the reception desk. “I’ve come to take you out to lunch.”
She checked her watch. “Good timing. My break is in about two minutes.”
I hadn’t taken her to lunch in ages—it seemed pointless when we lived at the same house and ate one or two meals a day together—but it was something I used to often do, before she’d moved in. And now there was a teenage girl down the hall and a pair of hippies camping in the backyard, I was resorting to old routines to spend time with her.
“I’ll wait outside,” I said with a wave.
I’d only just unlocked the car when Scarlett came out through the doors and flashed me a smile. “Andrea said she’d cover for me since it was only a couple of minutes. Where are we going?”
“Indian?”
“Perfect.”
Our favorite Indian place was only a couple of blocks away, so it wasn’t long before we’d arrived and were seated. Neither of us needed to check the menu, since we pretty much knew it by heart, so we ordered at the same time we were shown to the table, and then another waitress brought us a jug of water.
“So,” Scarlett said, fixing her gaze on me. “Any special reason for this visit?”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re complaining?”
“Nope,” she said quickly. “Kofta balls beat a salad sandwich any day of the week, but still, I can’t remember the last time we did this.”
I shrugged. “It’s to say thank you.”
“For what?”
“For what you’ve done for Amelia.” That meant more to me than anything. “Coming with me to get her, the extra attention you’ve been giving her, the birds and the bees talk. I really appreciate it.”
“Finn,” she said, her voice serious, “I would have done any of those things for you, but to be honest, I did them all for her. She’s a good kid.”
I raised my water glass to her. “I’m thanking you anyway.”
“You seem a little tense,” she said, far too perceptive, as usual. “In fact, you’ve been pretty tense since Amelia came home. Are you okay with the arrangement?”
I fidgeted with the water glass, unsure of how to put it into words. Or if I even should.
“Finn?” she prompted.
She cocked her head. “On what?”
“Everything.” I rolled my shoulders, attempting to ease some of the tension that had taken up living there. “When my parents died and I was suddenly responsible for Billie and Amelia, I didn’t think I’d be able to cope. It was too much.”
“Any eighteen-year-old would feel the same. And most wouldn’t have coped.”
I shook my head. That was irrelevant. “I didn’t have a choice. I had to cope.”
“Finn,” she said, and waited till I met her gaze before continuing, “you’re doing well, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’ve only been able to make it this far by concentrating on keeping everything stable.” I’d made a point of not changing the status quo any more than necessary. We’d stayed in the same house, I hadn’t changed the furniture, I’d even tried to cook the same meals that Mum had cooked.
“You’re using up most of your mental energy trying to keep all the balls in the air, aren’t you? Billie, Amelia, paying bills, maintaining the house, your job, taking Amelia to dance lessons.”
Even though Scarlett and I had talked before about my parents’ death and having guardianship of my sisters, I’d never admitted this much. Never laid myself quite so bare. “Yes.”
“You’re worried about what will happen if you drop one of those balls,” she said softly.
It was what gave me nightmares. “If I drop one, then the rest will probably follow. And the consequences of that are too awful to contemplate. Billie’s pretty much self-sufficient now, but Amelia is still dependant on me.”
She arched an eyebrow as she regarded me. “I’m one of those balls, aren’t I?”
“I wouldn’t say that—”
“Sometimes you treat me like your friend, an equal, and other times you treat me more like a little sister. It’s because I’m one of those balls you have in the air. You still think you need to protect me, to look after me, don’t you?”
Of course I needed to keep an eye out for her. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t? Not that she’d appreciate me saying that. She’d get indignant about being able to take care of herself. “You’re my friend. My best friend.”
“Exactly,” she said, pointedly. “I’m not one of those juggling balls. In fact, I can help you with them. Take the load a little when you need it.”
“You’re already doing that.” I looked down at my water glass as I spoke. “When we picked Amelia up at school, I was starting to feel out of my depth, then you reached over and put your hand on me and I remembered I wasn’t alone, that you had my back. That’s priceless.”
“I’ll always be here for you, Finn,” she said softly. “For whatever support you need.”
I rubbed a finger across my forehead. There was something else I needed to say—the other reason I’d asked her out to lunch. It had been on my mind a lot, but it was an awkward thing to discuss. Even with Scarlett. Especially with Scarlett.
Bracing myself, I jumped in, boots and all. “You know that conversation we had about why we couldn’t take the kiss any further?”
She shifted in her seat. “Yeah.”
“That’s it. That’s the reason.” I reached out and laid my hand over hers on the table. “If we tried dating and it didn’t work out, we could never go back. And if I lost my number one source of support, I don’t think I could hold it together for everyone else.”
“You need the status quo. For everything to stay the same.”
It didn’t sound great when she said it like that, but that was Scarlett—she called it as she saw it. And she was right.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “At least until Amelia graduates high school and university and becomes responsible for herself.”
She laid her other hand over mine as it covered hers, making a hand-tower, and I ignored the way my heart missed a beat as she did it.
“You’re too important to me to risk as well. Boyfriends come and go, but this friendship is forever.”
Everything inside me settled back into place. I finally smiled. “Until we’re old and gray and have rooms side by side in a nursing home.”
“Deal,” she said as our food arrived.
And, as she dug into her kofta balls, I sent up a silent prayer that it was true—we’d be friends forever.
Scarlett
I let myself in the front door as the cab drove away, hoping Finn was out with Marnie again so I could sneak into my room and pretend tonight had never happened.
Unfortunately, he was on the living room floor, surrounded by books and pieces of reed flutes in various stages of creation. He looked up as I came in. “No date dropping you home and hoping for a nightcap?”
“I caught a cab.” I smiled as brightly as I could manage, and adjusted my shiny new black-rimmed glasses.
“That bad, huh?” he asked, his voice sympathetic.
I flopped down on the floor beside him and laid my head on my outstretched arms. “Amelia asleep?” When he nodded, I sighed. “Actually, Cathy did well in finding this guy. Tom was perfect.”
His eyebrows shot up. “In what way?”
“Every way. He’s an architect, so he has a steady job, but he makes the models of his buildings in clay first, because he’s also a sculptor. He’s artistic and practical, Finn.” I should have been planning my wedding with this guy, not abandoning him at the bar on our first date.
Finn laid his reed flute paraphernalia to the side and focused on me. “Was he wearing a beret? Or sunglasses?”
“Nope. Perfectly dressed.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Too perfectly dressed? Like Man-Tan Man?”
“No, everything was good,” I said, not even able to drum up an enthusiastic tone.
“Then why so glum?”
I grimaced and rolled on my back to look at the ceiling. “The kissing wasn’t as perfect as the rest of him.”
“Bad?”
“No, not bad.” I thought back over the night and tried to pinpoint the problem. “Just boring. Kinda flat.”
I was becoming more and more certain that kissing Finn had spoiled me for other men. Why, oh why, had I ever kissed him?
“Oh, well,” he said far too cheerily. “You gave it a try. Here, hold this reed.” He passed me the reed he’d been working on as he held a diagram next to it, comparing.
“But Tom was perfect for me.” Maybe I could get used to his boring kisses. Surely other things were more important in a relationship.
“Nothing to be done about it,” Finn said without looking up. “The man can’t kiss. End of story.”
I suddenly had a bright and shiny idea. “Hey, Finn.” I drew his name out until he looked up at me warily. “What would you think about having a word with him?”
“You want help getting rid of him? No problem.” He drew cutting guides lightly in pencil on the reed.
“No, kinda the opposite. You know, give him some tips.” This was a most excellent idea, but Finn was frowning as if he hadn’t quite understood. “About kissing,” I added to be sure.
He drew back as if I’d threatened him with a rattlesnake. “Guys don’t do that, Scarlett.”
“You don’t talk about kissing?” I asked, surprised and a little fascinated.
“It’s part of the guy code. We don’t talk about our sex lives, except in general terms. Never specifics. And never give advice unless it’s asked for.” He winced. “Even then, it’s pretty iffy.”
“Hang on, you said you don’t talk about sex with your family, your female friends, and now also not with your male friends. Who, exactly, do you talk about sex with?”
“The girls we’re sleeping with. And then only under duress.” He paused as if thinking about it. “Maybe if she threatened to stop having sex if we didn’t talk about sex.”
I shrugged. “So, you’ll break the guy code with Tom, and I’ll cook all week to pay you back.”
“No.” He held
up both hands in front of himself as if that would protect him from my suggestion. “I may usually go along with your crazy schemes, but this is one step too far. I will not give your date kissing advice.”
But what options would that leave me? Pretty much none. “I’ll have to dump him.”
“So be it,” he said and went back to his diagram of ancient musical instruments.
It was worth one more try, so I put on a sad face. “Don’t you want to see me happy?”
“Very much. I just don’t want that conversation with Tom even more.” He shuddered as he said it, so I was pretty certain he was as averse to the idea as he said.
I threw myself back on the carpet, knocking my glasses askew as I did, and the world went out of focus until I adjusted them. “I’m destined to be alone.”
“You’re being melodramatic again,” he said, gaze locked on the book open in front of him.
I ignored him. “I think I’ll get a puppy.”
“You’re not getting a puppy,” he said, still not looking up. “The landlord said no pets.”
I rolled onto my side so I could aim a glare at him. “You’re the landlord.”
“Correct.” He was apparently unaffected by my glaring skills.
“Then why can’t I get a puppy?” If I had a puppy I could be snuggled into its fur right now. A puppy was exactly what I needed.
“Because,” he said patiently, “puppies are for life, and you only want one because you feel bad tonight.”
“In my defense, I’ll probably feel bad tomorrow, too.”
He finally looked up and fixed his gaze on me. “No puppies, Scarlett.”
“Spoilsport,” I mumbled, and headed for bed.
Scarlett
Knitting. To think it had come to knitting. The dates Cathy had set up hadn’t distracted me from thinking about kissing Finn again, and he wouldn’t let me get a puppy. That only left me with the knitting plan.
Based on past experience, I knew normal knitting would be a challenge for me, so I’d searched the net and found a clip on arm knitting, which used arms and hands instead of knitting needles. It sounded doable. I’d even roped Amelia into the plan.
The Finn Factor Page 8
