“Okay, if you say so.” The waitress brings the checks and he snatches mine out of my hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Treating you. This dinner has been…educational. So, thanks.”
“Like I said, please don’t joke about what I just told you in front of Finn or Morgan. For one, I don’t want Finn to know I told you something so personal about us. And two, Morgan thinks I’m on the Pill and I haven’t corrected her assumption. If she knew, she’d use that as fodder to convince me to either try to get pregnant without Finn knowing, or to dump him. I wouldn’t do those things to him. I love Finn, Greg.”
As he pulls out his wallet, he looks at me, stunned, maybe, for almost a full minute before answering earnestly, “I won’t, Hadley. I promise. I’m flattered that you felt you could tell me this. Really.” Rod reaches over the table and clutches my hand, squeezing it. He releases my hand to dig out his credit card.
“Where’s Wilder’s dad?” he asks, thankfully changing the subject.
“Um, he lives outside of Baltimore. We’ll probably see him for Thanksgiving, if not before then. Henry is really cool.” The waitress stops by and collects our checks and Rod’s credit card.
Rod chuckles. “Is he anything like his son, Finnigan?”
“No, he isn’t. Finn might punch you in the face if he hears you calling him that.”
“The way he was acting today, he just might.”
“Why doesn’t he like me anymore?”
“He does. I honestly don’t know what his problem was today.” I sit back in the booth. I contemplate my next thought, staring at Rod absently before finally speaking what’s on my mind. I take a deep breath. “You’re a guy.”
“Yes, another thing I’ve been told,” he says as the waitress returns his card and receipts.
“Is there something wrong with me?”
As Rod signs the slips of paper, he briefly looks at me. “No, why? Did Wilder say there was? If he did, I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Join his fan club? Date him? Make a porno with him?” I grin as he wads up a napkin and hurls it at me. I duck. “Hey! You’ve already sprayed beer all over me and ruined my shirt, now you’re throwing trash in my face. I’m feeling so much better about asking you if there’s anything wrong with me.”
“Why do you think there’s something wrong with you?” he asks, confusion heavy in his question and on his face. Why am I blabbing so much personal information to Rod? It’s like I have some sort of disease and I absolutely cannot stop. I talk to Morgan and Bethany, but I don’t usually take this bizarre detour into this level of Hell. Why is Greg Rodwell suddenly the only person I want to confide in?
“I feel like I’m not good enough for him. Like he should be with someone who doesn’t want the things I want, so he doesn’t feel pressured all the time. Despite his public persona, he’s a rather private person when it comes to his personal life, meaning: me. Sometimes I wonder if he’s lamenting staying with me because he sees what else he could have when all these women throw themselves at him.” I swallow and fight burgeoning tears. Why am I doing this? I’ve never opened up to Rod like this before. Is there a full moon out tonight? I’m not on my period. Everything and everyone has been so screwy today.
I sniff and grab a napkin to dab at my eyes. Rod continues to stare at me. I think I’m scaring him. He finally says, “Hadley, you shouldn’t feel that way. He’s with you because he loves you. I know he does. You’re his Becks. Christ, birth control or not, he almost nailed you earlier in front of hundreds of people.”
I close my eyes so tears don’t roll down my cheeks. “How would you feel if you were Finn? Wouldn’t you want to break up with me if I wanted a marriage and kids, but you didn’t?” I open my eyes as Rod’s mouth falls open. He blinks several times before he looks away and clears his throat.
“That’s a tough question.”
I take a drink from my glass before saying, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even asked you that, but I just want to know what I should do. Should I not want those things? Should he change his mind to make me happy like Morgan says he needs to do? I’m so lost, Greg. I want your opinion, a guy’s perspective. What would you do in Finn’s situation? Would you break up with me?”
Clasping his hands together on the table, he takes a deep breath. “If I were Finn and I felt the way that he does, and you told me you wanted to get married and have a baby…” he trails off and looks past me, seemingly deep in thought. I think I either stumped him or he has an answer that’s going to crush me. His eyes finally fall back to my face. “The question should be: Would you break up with me? I do agree with Morganism, to a fault, but don’t you dare tell her that.” He pauses, crossing his arms on the table. “It’s not fair for Wilder to deny you the things you want, but on the other side of the coin, it’s also not fair for you to expect him to change his feelings about those subjects that, for his own reasons, he feels very deeply about. I have no clue what he’s thinking, but for me, I do want those things with someone, so I can’t answer for him. Only Wilder can and he’s told you how he feels. Talk to him again, but only bring up one issue at a time. Tonight, talk marriage. Maybe he’ll change his mind. Maybe he won’t. I wish I could give you a definitive answer.”
I nod and wipe my damp cheeks. “What the hell happened to my Rod?” I sniff and giggle.
He smirks and sits back again, propping his elbow behind him on the top of his bench seat. “My parents are psychologists, so I’ve ridden a couch or two.”
“Yeah, but it’s weird. Say something in Rod-ese.”
He facetiously grins with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Just knit the hell out of him tonight. Maybe that will change his mind.”
I smile through my tears. There’s my Rod.
CHAPTER 4
Rod pulls his truck into a parking space of my dark red, brick apartment building. I live about 10 minutes outside of Richmond in Montrose, which makes it about a 20-minute drive to work. That’s on an extremely good day, though.
“So, what is the plan for tomorrow morning since you’ll be staying over at Wilder’s tonight? Are you going to be able to still meet me in the morning so we can go to the kite festival?”
I grip onto the door handle and turn to him. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You might be tired, or too busy knitting Wilder a huge-ass scarf in the morning.”
“Nope.” I exaggeratedly and hastily rub my hands together. “I’ll be tired because I won’t be able to sleep tonight since I’ll be too excited about playing with kites tomorrow!”
“Don’t be a jerk,” he scolds. “You won’t be going anywhere if Finn doesn’t let you leave. I’m sure he’s pissed off that you’re spending a Sunday without him.”
“He said he has to work in the early afternoon. He would never make it back in time since we have an hour and a half drive.”
“What I can’t believe is Morticia’s agreeing to go, and she’s bringing Ivan. It’s a good thing Wilder isn’t going because those two guys together make me feel inadequate on so many levels. Mortgage hates spending time with me at work. Why would she want to see more of me than she has to this weekend?”
“Don’t let Morgan fool you. She likes you.” I point into his chest. “Just you don’t tell her I told you that.”
He glances down to the floor. “That information is deliciously surprising, yet awkwardly disturbing.” He looks back up at me and grins. “Okay, deal. I now have two secrets to keep.”
“Yes, so please…”
“I know, Hadders. I swear,” he says while crossing his heart with an index finger.
“Good. I’ll see you in the morning.” I hop out of the truck and shut the door.
I hear the whir of his window being rolled down as I begin to walk away. “Make me a good sandwich!” he shouts.
I look over my shoulder and wave him off. “You’ll eat what I make, Gregory.”
Rod theatrically starts moaning. “Oh, Hadders, you calling me th
at is making me so hard!” He then begins loudly panting. “Come over here! You’re giving me blue balls!” I’m sure my neighbors are just loving this shit.
I stop and look around. I hiss, “Damn it, Rod!”
He laughs and tries to catch his breath, snorting. He raises his head from the steering wheel as I wait impatiently for him to resurface back to reality. “Not pickles. I don’t do pickles.” He snorts once more.
“I’ll try to remember that,” I huff and turn again to leave.
“Have fun sexual intercoursing Finn’s brains out!” he imparts.
I twirl on the pavement, pursing my lips. “I can’t believe you made that word into a verb.”
He pouts, “I’m not allowed to say the other word I wanted to use.” I roll my eyes and move forward again. “Oh, hey. Did you remember to buy a kite?”
Exasperated, I spin around again. “Yes!”
“Good. Though, they do sell some there.” He shakes his head, leaning on one arm over the steering wheel. “It’s always better to fly your own kite.”
I narrow my eyes in thought. “I think that’s the slogan for something.”
“Maxi pads, maybe?”
I laugh until my stomach begins to ache. “I can’t believe you said that!”
“Neither can I. Tell Wilder to let you sleep, so you’ll be able to get up early. Draw a line down the middle of the bed and tell him to keep his hands and other stiff body parts to himself.”
I giggle. “I don’t think he’ll be listening, especially if that edict came from you.”
He puts his truck in reverse. “My dick won’t be anywhere near you tonight. There is no way I’m doing a threesome with you guys.” He shrugs. “I’ll watch you two go at it, though. That might be interesting.”
“Good night, perv.” I open the door to my building. I can hear him once more hysterically laughing as he leaves the parking lot.
What an ass.
After calling my childhood best friend, Bethany Chackmore to tell her about Finn’s race and getting a pep talk from her, I feel somewhat better. Even though I don’t see her often since she lives in Fenwick Island, Delaware, she still manages to lift my spirits, for a short while at least.
I take a shower and pack an overnight bag. Is this really how it’s always going to be? Packing weekend bags, talking on the phone during the week, alternating beds and only making love on the weekends, trying to make up for missing each other the rest of the week? Someone has to give in. I know I’m stubborn, but damn it, so is he.
I comb my wet hair and stare into the mirror at my naked body wrapped in a brown towel. Is there something wrong with me? Or is Morgan right? Is Finn really stringing me along? Stringing me along would imply that he’s been misleading me and that’s never been the case. I don’t think it would be considered stringing me along if he’s made it perfectly clear he doesn’t want more than what we have now. What if he really does want what I do, but only not with me? I grip onto the edge of the white bathroom counter and close my eyes. Why doesn’t he want me to be more than just his adoring, little girlfriend, like Morgan said this afternoon? How long will he want me around? Why doesn’t he want me as his wife? Does he think me being his wife will tarnish his playboy image?
Do I embarrass him? Disappoint him?
I know I’ve let down people in the past. Hell, my mother left me when I was six. I was in school one day and she didn’t come to pick me up. The school called my dad and he had to come and get me. When we got home, my three-year-old brother Jared was screaming and crying with a neighbor. At least my mother had the decency to see that my brother was looked after before she hit the road. She didn’t leave a note. No goodbye. No “have a nice life.” Not even a “fuck you.” Nothing. I think she’s living in Indiana, Illinois or Iowa. Somewhere over there. I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since she left and started a whole new life. It’s been so long that I’m used to it. I’ve accepted it. Sometimes.
More upsettingly, I’m afraid that I’ve disappointed my dad. I graduated from the University of Maryland—Eastern Shore with a degree in criminal justice. I had wanted to be a criminalist or a crime scene investigator, but after I graduated, I couldn’t find a job in my field to save my life. I was living with my dad while in college and continued to stay with him while I looked for a job. I had been working at Blake’s, a small wholefoods grocery store as a cashier and stocking shelves in the evenings to pay for my books and tuition. They had offered me full-time after I graduated and I took it since I still hadn’t had any luck with a career in criminal justice. After a couple years of dead ends and disappointment, I had to expand my job search deep into Virginia, where I finally landed a job at a hospital in Richmond as a file clerk. The pay actually was pretty decent to start. I finally was able to move out of my dad’s house, but that also meant I had to move almost three hours away. I liked living with my single dad. I love him, but we’re both so stubborn that we butted heads a lot. When I was in school, it wasn’t as bad because I took classes all day and then worked in the evenings. At first, I didn’t want to go because I’d be leaving him alone. He had to start packing my bags for me. I’m not sure if it was because he wanted me to leave, or if he wanted to move on without his 24 year-old daughter constantly questioning his life choices and his housekeeping skills. My job at the hospital lasted for about four years before it was announced that there was going to be cutbacks. Unfortunately, I made the cut and it wasn’t for a team I wanted any part of. I had to find another job fast. I didn’t want epic failure to hang over my head, screaming on my resume or attached to the description of me that my dad gave to people, except that I knew he would never do that. So to make ends meet, I got a job at another wholefoods store similar to Blake’s, Garner’s Market. The people there were good to me and after I started my job at the law firm six months later, they told me that if I ever was “bored” and wanted a job, I would always have one there.
I gloomily turn away from the mirror and out of the bathroom. I walk across the hall to my beige bedroom and into the closet. Most of the closet is filled with my clothes, but Finn does have a few suits he keeps in there for any last-minute work assignments he might have thrown at him while he’s here; although, most of the time he’s wearing jeans, shorts, or some kind of protective suit or harness when he’s reporting on a location. He does have a handful of T-shirts, a couple pairs of jeans and underwear he keeps in one of my drawers.
I frantically slide the hangers around as I try to find something suitable for a kite festival. I forgot to ask Rod what one wears to a festival of kites? Is there a dress code? A protocol for kitewear? Dos’ and Don’ts’? Morgan says I need to dress sexier. I like my jeans, and Finn always said he likes how my ass looks when I wear them, but apparently I’m committing a mortal sin wearing them all the time.
I carefully pull out a light teal, spaghetti strap dress with lace-paneled detailing alternating with chiffon material throughout. Very sweet, like kite flying, I believe. I had bought it to wear to a work picnic Finn was going to take me to last summer, but then he told me he was going to pop in alone for a short while. He again didn’t want me to be with him.
Should I doubt Finn? Suspecting him of cheating on me? I’ve always trusted him. I don’t want to be that girlfriend who checks his phone or emails to see if he’s cheating. I don’t think he would do that to me. If he wants another woman, I hope he’d have the balls to tell me first.
I remove the hanger and the dress from my closet, laying it gently on my bed’s cream pintucked comforter. I then find my white cardigan sweater to pair with it since it’ll be early and cool. Shoes? White sandals. I think I’ll look rather springlike and Easter-y. Why am I even picking out a dress if Finn won’t even be there to see me in it? I suppose he’ll see me before I leave in the morning. I guess that counts for something. We just celebrated three years together last month and Finn hasn’t seen me wearing a dress before. That probably sounds strange, but since he takes me to so many sportin
g events, it’s usually a T-shirt, jeans or shorts for me. And when we’re not out doing something sporty, we stay in.
I sit down on my bed to zip up my bag and to put on my sneakers. I didn’t have to pack too much since I have clothes at Finn’s. He even gave me one of his drawers that he didn’t need. I also keep some toiletries there, but I conscientiously try not to take over his bathroom with my crap. I strive to keep it to a minimum, so I take most of it home with me whenever I do stay.
I have some pictures of Finn and me on my nightstand. One of them catches my eye and I pause before I finish tying my shoe. It’s one of my favorite pictures of us. Morgan had taken it when we all went to Busch Gardens a few months ago last summer. She had been playing with her new phone and was taking pictures of cute kids, outfits, and vendors. I think she even got a picture of a cute kid throwing up on a cute outfit in front of a cute vendor. And oddly, some of Rod, who tried to make his pictures as funny as possible. He had borrowed a few strangers’ hats and made really inappropriate gestures for Morgan, much to the chagrin of those remorsefully charitable people. Finn and I were eating nachos while she was snapping away. She told us to smile so she could take our picture. I looked up from my nachos and Finn unexpectedly leaned in and kissed me. Morgan took the picture at that moment, but he didn’t stop kissing me, much to Rod’s dismay. He told us to book a hotel room somewhere because we were sucking all of the virtue and innocence out of the park, as well as all of the air. Morgan threw ice in our faces to make us stop. That picture is my favorite because we were out in public together and he was the first to kiss me. It wasn’t as blatant as today’s kisses at the track, but still, he didn’t seem to care who was watching and we were within his station’s viewing realm. Any Finnatic could have seen him kissing a woman in public. He wasn’t even wearing his sunglasses to hide his face at the time. That picture, as well as the memory, will forever be so special to me.
The other picture I have is one my dad took of us at the park. Finn is walking and I have my arms around his neck, riding piggyback. It had been his idea to carry me like that. I fought him when he tried to pick me up, but my dad thought it’d be a neat picture to have. The grin on Finn’s face is glorious. Mine is more of a self-conscious smile.
Chasing the Wild Sparks Page 5
