“Daddy, we’re leaving.”
Amy rubbed her hands together. “You’re hired.”
Finn wiped the plaster onto his already stained jeans.
“Daddy.” Maya put her tiny hands on her nonexistent hips. “Can we talk?”
“Sure. C’mon. We’ll sit on the steps outside.”
Maya followed her daddy out with her chin in the air. Proud to be the woman with the upper hand.
Cecelia was in the kitchen, whacking down spiderwebs with a broom when Finn and Maya came back in. Finn had a funny look on his face and he’d gone a bit gray around the gills.
“So.” He leaned against the counter.
“So,” Maya picked up. “Daddy wants Amy to tell him who his One True Love is so that we know if it’s you or not and we can quit messing around.”
Cecelia dropped the broom. It clanked to the floor. “He doesn’t look like that’s what he wants.”
“I do,” he said.
“See, Daddy doesn’t believe. So I said, what’s it matter if Amy reads him or not? See, it’s like Santa Claus: if you really believe—”
Amy walked into the room. Everyone fell silent.
“What?” She looked from face to face.
Maya huffed. “Daddy wants you to read about his One True Love.”
Cecelia felt slightly ill. “Let’s go into the living room.” She had to sit down. There was an old couch in there.
They all followed her into the dusty, huge room. Spiderwebs hung from every surface. The windows were still boarded except for one that Amy had torn the plywood off. Dirty sunlight streamed in, lighting the dense dust floating in the musty air.
Cecelia flung herself onto the couch and sat on her hands to stop their tingling. If he was her One True Love, then that was good. Right? They had something going on, something electric. But then, her life. A man like Finn and a girl like Maya in her life. And then, there was the part about her One True Love having only days to live.
“You look a little gray, there, Cel,” Amy said. “I won’t do it unless it’s what you want.”
A chill raced up Cecelia’s spine. Was this what she wanted? Or did she want Jack to come back and Amy to go away and this house to get boarded back up so the rats could play? And then Finn wouldn’t have to die. She shuddered in the icy air. The curtains, the spiderwebs, the whole world was still, waiting.
I might be sitting in the same room as my beloved, my One True Love as assigned by Fate. She regarded Finn. Everything she ever wanted—stability, respectability, distance from the underbelly of life—would be gone if he were the one. He’d never fit into her world.
He’d be a dead man.
And if he wasn’t The One—what then? Would she go to California and find that lawyer named Finn? Wait for Jack? Be alone?
Or, have really great sex with Finn until Friday when he split, even though he wasn’t her One True Love? Just fun sex. To celebrate the fact that he wasn’t condemned to death—or to loving her forever.
“Cel?” Amy asked. Her voice shook.
Hell, Amy was nervous too. Why was she nervous? Finn tapped his foot too fast against the dingy floor. His lips formed a straight, tense, white line. Cecelia looked at Maya, and she felt the hairs raise on the back of her neck. The child looked like she was watching a horror movie. The Revenge of the Idiotic Grown-ups.
“Are we doing this or not?” Finn asked. “Maya and I are starving and I promised her a movie tonight.”
“With popcorn,” Maya added. At least one person in the room seemed to know what was important.
“I don’t have to tell him if you don’t want,” Amy said.
“You can’t not tell me,” Finn said.
“Tell him,” Cecelia said. “Go on. We’ve come this far.”
Chapter 28
Amy took a deep breath, then stared at Finn. Really stared. She put her hand on his arm and drew him in deeply with her eyes. She snapped her eyes shut. She squeezed them tighter and tighter. Then she opened them again.
Amy dropped his arm and got up. She strode to the ancient fireplace and squatted before it.
“What’s wrong?” Cecelia asked.
“I can’t get a signal.” Amy said it so quietly, Cecelia wasn’t sure she had heard her right.
“What do you mean you can’t get a signal?” Finn asked.
“I can’t hear the name. I’m getting a voice, but it’s faint.”
“This is ridiculous,” Finn said.
“Give her more information,” Cecelia said. The disappointment of not knowing seeped into her stomach like a poison.
“Daddy, this is spooky,” Maya put in.
Finn paced the room.
“Is there something that could be blocking you?” Cecelia asked Amy.
“Maybe it’s this house. There’s too much interference,” Amy suggested.
“Yeah. This place is starting to give me the creeps,” Maya said.
“No, it’s him. He’s giving off—something.”
Finn looked annoyed. “All right, I don’t know what kind of game you two are playing.”
Amy cut in. “It’s not a game.” She looked horrible. Sweaty and white.
Finn looked at Amy long and hard. “Franklin,” he said. “My name’s Finn Franklin Concord. And me and Maya are going to go see a movie.”
“Don’t go!” Cecelia heard herself cry.
Finn stopped.
“Is your middle name really Franklin?” Cecelia asked. Her whole body went cold.
Amy was doing her stare again. She put her hand on his shoulder.
“You know, my whole life, I hated that damn name. I have a funny feeling I’m about to hate it even more.” Finn tried to back away from Amy, who was rocking, trancelike beside him.
“Shhhh!” Amy whispered. “I’m getting a voice.”
Everyone froze.
“It’s coming. It’s getting louder.” Suddenly Amy snapped her eyes shut.
“This is nuts.” Finn started to walk toward the door.
After a dramatic pause that seemed to last an eternity, Amy’s eyes opened. “I’ve got it!”
Finn stopped in his tracks.
“Who?” Finn and Cecelia both cried at once.
Amy fell onto the couch, clearly exhausted by her efforts. She shook her head at Cecelia.
“What?” Cecelia cried.
“He’s not The One.” Amy’s voice was small.
Cecelia went numb. She blinked. She snuck a glance at Finn. He’d be gone within ten minutes, off to search for his True Love. No one could resist the pull.
He shook his head, pursed his lips. “Who is my True Love?”
Amy, who had closed her eyes, remained completely still. “Do you know someone named Cindy Reidel?”
Cecelia held her breath.
He paused. He narrowed his eyes. Finally, he said, “Yeah.”
Cecelia let out the breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“Well, that’s her. Cindy Reidel.”
Cecelia locked herself in the ornate upstairs bathroom and splashed ice-cold water on her face. She met her eyes in the mirror and stared into them accusingly. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She had let her guard down for an instant, and somehow Finn had snuck in. Now, just as quickly, he belonged to another woman.
What was wrong with her?
Maybe she just wanted somebody.
“Cel? It’s me. Your not-true Love,” Finn called in through the door.
“Bug off,” she said. She ran the water harder. It splashed in the old marble basin with a satisfying surety. She watched it swirl down the drain. She had thought that he was The One. The talks they had over the last few weeks had been so natural, so honest. And then there was that shed. And his middle name was Franklin. But he was still the wrong Finn Franklin Concord. There must be another one.
“Um, Cel? Listen, I think we should talk this over. Figure out what to do.”
“That’s easy. You should go off in search of Cindy Reidel.”
“You know, I’m not very happy about this either,” he called through the door.
“Really?” She marched to the door, but didn’t open it. “Why?”
“Sex. I thought we’d be good together.”
Thank God he couldn’t see her smile through the door.
“Although, I suppose the good news is that I’m not dying.”
Oh, hell. She opened the door. She turned her back on him and walked back into the bathroom. She sank down onto the edge of the claw-foot tub. “Congratulations. Not being tied to me is the best thing that could happen to you.”
He came into the room and leaned against the tiled wall. “You really believe this psychic mumbo-jumbo?”
“Don’t you?”
“No. I just couldn’t figure out any other way to get you to open the door. C’mon now. You’re a doctor. You know that spirits don’t exist.”
“I told you before. I’ve seen the Names in action.”
“Ridiculous.”
“I envy you.” Cecelia ran her finger along the tub’s cold enamel.
He strode to the sink and shut off the running water. It didn’t shut off all the way, and dripped into the basin. He fiddled with the handles. She listened to the rhythm of the drops. It was the slow drip of life. Her life, dripping away.
“If it’s not true, how did Amy come up with the name Cindy Reidel?”
“Amy hung out in my town for months, Cel. It’s a tiny place.”
“Who is she?”
“Oh, for crying out loud, I’m not going there. Forget Cindy. This is about us.” He gave up on the sink and sat down on the edge of the tub next to her. “I changed my mind. I think we should be together.” He paused. “This place is a mess.”
“Yeah.”
“I can help you guys fix it up.” He stood and began a survey of the room. “Truth is, there’s nothing for us back in Florida. I could use the better-paying work here. And Maya likes it here. Don’t ask me why, but she changed her mind about you. Something about the way you did her hair.” He turned on the tub, watched the water flow, then shut it off.
Maya likes me. Cecelia was shocked at how important this suddenly seemed.
“Plaster needs work. Plumbing’s about to blow. Chimney’s coming down if a feather lands on it. Probably have to gut most of the walls.” He paused. “I’d do it in exchange for a place to stay plus expenses and forty dollars an hour.”
Cecelia considered him. Now that she knew that he wasn’t her True Love, he was just a guy—okay, a guy with whom she happened to have awesome sex, but still. Nothing to do with her. What harm would it do to let him fix the place up? As mad as she was at Amy, she hated the idea of her living in this squalor. It would take time and effort to find a decent contractor this late into the summer. “Thirty dollars an hour. But you can’t stay here. The rats and spiders would eat you alive.”
He shrugged. “Nothing I’m not used to. Thirty-five dollars.”
She watched him look out the window. Hell, she couldn’t help it. She still felt drawn to him in a way that she couldn’t describe. “You and Maya can stay at my co-op for a few weeks until this place is okay enough to live in.”
He met her eyes with a questioning gaze.
“We’ll hardly even see each other. I work all the time,” she explained quickly. “Plus, Amy will be there too.” She had already decided that she couldn’t let Amy live in this dump, no matter what awful things she had done.
He hesitated.
“Okay. Forty-five.”
“Forty dollars.” He smiled. “Apartment mates.” He put out his hand to shake.
She took it, ignoring the zing of energy she felt at his touch.
It obviously didn’t mean a thing.
Right?
Chapter 29
Cecelia cuddled into her giant bed. Finn was on the couch in the living room. Amy was back in the guest bedroom with Maya.
Cecelia stared at the ceiling. She looked out the huge plate-glass windows at the blinking lights of the city and the harbor spread out below her.
Oh, hell. She couldn’t sleep.
She threw off her covers, slipped her feet into her slippers, and padded to the kitchen. A little warm milk and a magazine would put her out.
Finn shifted on the couch. His leg hung over the edge.
She went to the fridge and got out the milk. While it heated in the microwave, she watched his silhouette.
“Quit staring and come on over here,” he said into the darkness.
“I’m not staring,” she lied. “I just couldn’t sleep.”
“Me neither. C’mon. We’ll see what’s on.”
He sat up and she could see the tapering outline of his torso in the dim light. Guess he forgot his jammies. She wondered if there was anything on under the sheet that pooled in his lap. God, she hoped there was. She hoped there wasn’t. She padded into the living room and stood at the edge of the couch. “We have nothing in common,” she said finally.
“We don’t have to have anything in common to watch TV together.” He pulled in his legs to make room for her.
She plopped down on the far end of the couch, as far from him as possible. She clicked on the TV and the blue light bathed them in an eerie glow. They watched the channels click by. Talk shows, infomercials, old movies. She tried not to look at his powerful body. “So where are you from?”
“All over. I grew up in Virginia.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It was.”
“Do you miss her?” She stopped flicking and they both watched Esther Williams swim. She could hear her own breath.
“My wife? Sally? Like crazy.”
Cecelia didn’t want to know any more. He was here. He was real. Esther Williams pulled herself out of the pool, water streaming down her body.
“C’mere,” he said. He held out his hand.
“Me?”
“No, Esther. Yes you. C’mere,” he repeated.
She could snuggle. Snuggling wasn’t bad. After all, Maya was sound asleep in the back room with Amy. She crept to his side of the couch and he put his arm around her. She let her eyes fall shut as she took in his warmth, desperate for it.
They watched the screen. Esther was now dressed primly, talking to an actor Cecelia didn’t recognize.
Finn pulled her closer.
Being held made her woozy with regret. What was she doing with her life?
“Are you crying?” he asked.
“No,” she snuffled. Oh, hell. She was crying. “I wish that I didn’t believe in Amy,” she said.
“So don’t.”
“I can’t just not believe.”
“Why not?”
“It’s real, Finn.”
In answer, he put his hand under her chin, raised her face to his, and kissed her. She let her lips fall open and his tongue danced over them, so softly she wasn’t sure if she felt his touch or just his breath.
“This is real.”
She put her hand on the side of his face. He was real. His kiss was real. Her longing was real.
“Believe in yourself,” he whispered.
Was it really that easy? She closed her eyes and let the world dissolve around her. His warmth enveloped her, his touch aroused her. She pulled him closer.
He kissed down her neck, along her collarbone. He turned her to him, and shifted so that his weight was above her. “Believe in this,” he said as he returned to her lips. This time his kiss was harder, more insistent, the roughness of his face awakening her skin, her desire. His hand was firmly on her hip, bracing her.
She pushed against his hand, suddenly urgent to feel more of him. But he held her apart from him, continuing his searching kiss over her lips, around her eyes, down her neck.
“Finn.” This was crazy. She was hot and blind from his kisses.
“Shhh.” He traced her lips with his finger, then let his weight settle next to her. “Just listen. Close your eyes and listen.” He snuck his hand under her pajama top
and she shuddered at the sensation of rough skin on smooth. He cupped her breast and sighed and she sighed.
She didn’t want to listen, she just wanted to feel. She let her hands roam his shoulders. Down his tapered back. He wore a pair of boxers, and she slipped her hand under the waistband and pulled him to her.
“Cel.” His voice came from a million miles away. “Do you have protection?”
“I’m on the pill.”
He turned her face to his. “Is that enough?”
“You weren’t asking that in the shed.” She wanted him so badly she could feel her desire like a separate being, controlling her. “Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
She wasn’t sure of anything. He was the wrong Finn. Amy wanted her to have True Love, if he was the right one, she would have said so. He was the wrong Finn and she didn’t care. “Yes.”
“Hold on.” He jumped up and suddenly she was alone, cold. She repositioned her clothes and watched him fish through the pockets of his jeans. He came back and stood before her.
He took her breath away.
As he unrolled a condom, she tried not to peek at its size. Then, suddenly, he was back with her and she was warm again, enclosed again.
“Where were we?” he asked.
She shimmied out of her shirt, then he helped her out of her pants. They dove under the comforter for cover. “Here,” she said, settling down again. “We were right here.” Don’t think, she reminded herself. She could think later.
He ran his finger up and down her stomach. “Here is good.”
“Yeah. Here is good.” She closed her eyes and felt his weight on her. He started kissing her all over again and she melted into him.
“Cecelia?” he asked.
“Hmmm?” she said. Then she saw the look in his eyes and said, “Yes, now.”
He pushed her legs open with his thigh, and she let her head fall back. Yes. Now. Please. She hadn’t realized how badly she had wanted this, waiting for it. A lifetime.
He pushed inside her all at once. She rocked into him. This man. This place. This was good. It was all good and nothing else mattered but the rhythm of them, moving together. They were underwater, submerged in desire, in each other.
Make Me a Match Page 20
