by K. Ryan
I hadn’t planned on it and I’d definitely never expected it. Even though this was the first time in a very long time I’d ever received any sort of positive attention online, trending on Twitter wasn’t exactly my intention. All I’d wanted to do was make an impact. All I wanted to do was come out of hiding and finally exude some real honesty for once. It looked like I’d accomplished all that and then some.
In the short time since hitting that submit button, I’d heard from just about everyone I’d ever met in my entire life—some I remembered and some I didn’t. Within about 20 minutes, Noah and Cris called. After that, the floodgates opened and it hadn’t really ever stopped. Everyone saying how proud they were, how brave I was, and how they just ‘couldn’t believe I did that’. Whatever that meant.
Regardless, my blog post brought everyone out of the woodwork: I’d heard from long-lost friends from college that I’d completely forgotten about, nearly all my former ‘friends’ from my past life in Hickory, former colleagues from school, former students, old neighbors, my old babysitter, a few people from my mom’s church, Principal Denfield, Mara, just about everyone at the café, and even Slinger, the last person I thought I’d ever hear from.
And that was even before I’d gotten the call from an editor at the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.
Of course, the only person I’d actually wanted to hear from hadn’t called, texted, or commented on my blog post, as opposed to seemingly everyone else who had internet access.
I’d even heard from my mom.
I know. For a second there, I thought hell might have frozen over, but she hung up before I even really had a chance to realize what happened. What a shocker, right? Considering we hadn’t spoken since the day I’d shown up uninvited at her house and barricaded myself in her car, my mom’s reaction was the last thing on my mind.
Maybe that was why, when the café’s front door swung open, the plate in my hand nearly tumbled down to the floor. It was amazing how you could survive for weeks, even months, and convince yourself that you’re not starving. That you’re not deprived. That you’re not dying. Because the second Finn walked through the door, the weight of those hours, days, weeks, and months I’d somehow survived without him hit me like a freight train.
Pre-Finn me was hardly even awake, let alone a functional human being. Post-Finn me was stronger, wiser, and more resilient, but still wasn’t completely whole. Now, I shoved pre-Finn me to the curb, that long-lost part of me finally jerked alive, finally free, finally complete with the missing piece of the puzzle...and we hadn’t even said a word to each other yet.
I could only stare, my heart and my breath tangled up in my throat, as Finn stood in the doorway, a folded up newspaper in one hand and unzipping his thick winter jacket with the other, revealing a wrinkled grey T-shirt that read Aha Shake, and his lips curling up in that warm grin I knew so well. He waved the newspaper in the air and gestured with his head towards the empty booth right next to Ed, the very same one he’d sat in both times he was here in the café.
Unlike the last time I saw him, well over a week ago when I’d went on my purge-and-catharsis-spree, this time, he wasn’t angry. This time, he wasn’t staring at me with hard eyes and keeping himself from reaching for me. This time, he looked like he knew I was finally ready to talk.
With no other options available to me, I just nodded. I didn’t trust myself to do much else. While I was too busy blinking back the shock of this ghost’s appearance in the doorway, the plate in my right hand jerked to the side. I glanced down to find Ed pulling on the plate with a grunt.
“I got it,” he huffed in exasperation when I finally let the plate slip through my fingers. It was probably for the best I wasn’t holding it anyway...if I waited much longer, it probably really would tumble to the floor.
“Go.”
That shook me out of it a little and my attention, or what was left of it, shifted momentarily to my cantankerous customer.
“What?”
Ed rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, shooting me a quick glare as he scooped up a fork, and then swept it out in front of him to gesture towards the near-empty café.
“I’m good,” he groused. “And it’s not like this place is exactly hoppin’. Go on now. Talk to your fella.”
Your fella.
My heart danced in my throat, heat coloring my cheeks and flooding down my limbs. The last time Ed had said that to me, I’d balked, terrified that Finn heard it, terrified about what that would mean if it was true, terrified of letting Finn get too close. I wasn’t scared anymore, but that didn’t mean I approached Finn’s booth with any less hesitation.
I didn’t know what was going to happen next, but I’d never find out if I didn’t get my ass into that booth.
When I slid in across from Finn, that grin on his handsome face only widened and his light eyes softened.
“Hey, Em,” he murmured.
“Hi, Finn.”
Somehow, my lips curled up, but I think it was the sound of his voice more than anything. That deep, robust timbre wrapped around me, pulling me in, and holding me tight. Just like every other time I’d heard it. I opened my mouth to speak, but he pointed down to the newspaper on the table, his eyes crinkling up at the sides a little.
“I read your article,” he informed me. “Well, if I’m being completely honest, I read it as a blog post first.”
Of course he’d read it on my blog. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised that he still read it even after I’d put as much physical and emotional distance between us as possible. Again, because I didn’t trust myself to do much else, I just nodded.
His eyes flicked back down to the newspaper and he shook his head. “That’s...seriously, Em, that’s the bravest shit I’ve ever seen.”
I laughed lightly and finally tore my eyes away from him so I could slide the paper towards me. This was the first time I’d ever really seen it in print, I mean, really looked at it, and seeing my words staring back at me in black and white in the Sentinel was a surreal experience, even in front of Finn. I’d never set out to be a writer, never even thought of myself as a writer despite the fact that I’d been writing a blog for years, but the evidence was here. My work, my words, my life...in print.
“It wasn’t brave,” I shrugged. “It was just the truth and It was just the right thing to do.”
“Yeah, well,” he grinned. “It takes balls to do the right thing and Em, you’ve got the biggest pair of I’ve ever seen.”
I cocked my head to the side. “How many pairs have you seen?”
“Ah, I’m not at liberty to say. Enough to know what I’m talking about though.”
“I see.”
He flashed me a quick smile, but it dropped just as quickly. “I bet things have been a little crazy lately, huh?”
I just lifted a shoulder. “A little bit. Mostly just emails, texts, that sort of thing. My mom called me, actually, too.”
His eyebrows leapt up into his forehead. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I huffed out a bitter laugh. “She said it was, and I quote, ‘very well-written’ and that was pretty much the end of it. But it was something, I guess, and if that’s all our relationship ever is then that’s something I can live with.”
Finn nodded somberly.
“Anyway, this legal group, the Cyber Civil Rights Initiative, emailed me yesterday and they want me to join this task force that meets in Madison. They’ve been active all around the country, trying to get movements started in each state. I guess it would involve, at some point, going in front of the state senate to talk about my experience with other women from the state who’ve gone through this. They’re pushing for...pretty much everything I wrote about. Stronger and clearer laws, redefining the crime, harsher punishments.”
“Wow,” Finn’s eyebrows rose. “Are you gonna do it?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged and tried to brush it off like it wasn’t as monumental as it actually was. In all the comments and emails I’d
received since my story went viral, the ones from all the women out there who were just like me, who were just like all the stories I’d read, those were the ones that resonated the loudest.
On second thought.
“Well,” I smiled softly. “Maybe I will.”
He nodded, his eyes crinkling up again at the sides, and I hadn’t forgotten how much I’d missed this. Just sitting here like this, talking to him, being with him...I could stand on my own two feet without him. I knew that now. I just didn’t want to.
“So, from waitress to political activist, huh? I think that’ll be a good look for you.”
“Yeah, well, I did teach civics once upon a time. So I guess I have that going for me.”
And just like that, the final piece clicked into place. Maybe I was never meant to be a teacher or a historian or an educator at a museum. Maybe I was meant to take the cues from my historical heroes and fight for my rights and the rights of others. Maybe that broad field social sciences degree would come in handy after all. Maybe all these terrible, life-altering events had happened in my life to lead me here, in this city, to that cat, on that patio, to finally end up in this booth. Maybe fate had me on the right path all along.
Nah.
I’d gotten here on my own. Fate, circumstance, and maybe even God, too, if you wanted to get all spiritual about it, had played a small hand, but the cards were always up to me to play. I could’ve folded altogether. I could’ve taken my money, so to speak, and run. But I was here. I was still standing. I’d picked myself up and put myself back together again. I’d become the hero of my own story.
Okay. Maybe I had a little help from a stray cat.
But now, the ball was in Finn’s court. He’d shown up here at my work, after all, uninvited and unannounced and I still technically had a customer to handle, too.
So, I swallowed tightly, pulled on my big-girl pants and asked him point-blank, “Finn, what are you doing here? Are you just here because you read the article?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but my compulsive need to explain myself got the better of me.
“Before you say anything, let me be clear: I didn’t write that article for any purpose other than to tell my story and to take my life back. That’s it. I didn’t do it because I wanted it to go viral, I didn’t do it for attention, and most of all, Finn, I didn’t do it for you.”
Finn didn’t miss a beat and his lips curled up into the sexiest grin I’d ever seen.
“I know. So—”
“I’m so sorry,” I cut in abruptly, unable to hold it in anymore. “I know I’ve already said it, but I wanted to say it again. I wish I could take everything back...I wish I’d talked to you. I just wasn’t ready.”
He nodded tightly. “Are you ready now?”
There was no question about it. “Yes.”
“Is it okay if I talk now?”
He paused for just a second to gauge my reaction and then pushed out a rough breath.
“I tried really hard to forget about you, Em,” Finn started and ran a hand through his hair. “I wanted to forget and I’m sure you remember the girl that was in my apartment that day you just showed up out of the blue?” He waited long enough for me to nod tightly at the memory. “I went out with her a few times...well, tried to go out with her is probably a better way to describe it. The problem was that I just kept thinking about you instead. The problem was that I’m in love with you and that’s not something I ever want to shake. Something really terrible happened to you, Em, and I didn’t handle it very well.”
I opened my mouth to add to that last comment, but he jumped back in before I got the chance.
“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and I know you’re going to say that it’s all because you pushed me away and wouldn’t talk to me, and all that’s true, but I pushed you too hard. I wanted you to just get over it and I thought me telling you it wasn’t your fault, that I love you anyway, I thought that would be enough. I never stopped to really think about what that must’ve been like for you and how you really felt about it and it wasn’t until after you stopped talking to me that I realized my own part in all that shit. I never should’ve tried to push you into doing something you weren’t ready to do.”
“I was terrified,” I whispered.
He nodded tightly. “I know.”
“You scared the hell out of me.”
“I know.”
I sucked in a harsh breath. “I should’ve let you in, but I just couldn’t.”
“I know,” he nodded.
“I felt like I didn’t deserve you...like I didn’t deserve anything good in my life after doing something so terrible.”
“I know.”
My eyes squeezed shut when I felt his fingertips brush the top of my hand. “It wasn’t terrible. I’m not terrible and I should’ve let you love me.”
“I know.”
“I don’t expect you to forgive the way I hurt you. I made everything so much more complicated than it had to be. I was so stubborn. So, so stupid. And selfish. And I didn’t stop to think about your feelings at all. I’m so sorry.”
“I know.”
Tears stung my eyes. This was it. I was going to say it. And I wasn’t terrified at all.
“I love you, Finn.”
He smiled and his fingertips finally closed around my hand.
“I know.”
. . .
I did my best to ignore the pair of strong hands skimming up my waist as I tried and failed to get my key in the door. Lips and warm breath brushed my neck and I shivered underneath his touch.
“Need some help?” Finn laughed against my skin.
“Well,” I huffed playfully. “If you’d just keep your hands to yourself for a second and let me concentrate, I could…”
My words died in my throat when he reached around my waist, plucked my key chain right out of my hand, and shoved my key in the lock without any further obstacles.
“There.”
“I could’ve done it on my own,” I grumbled under my breath, despite the fact that his mouth had found my neck again.
“I know,” he murmured. “But that wasn’t gonna get us in the door any faster.”
“I see your point.”
My neck muffled his laugh and we pushed through the door, shutting it behind us just as quickly. That familiar tinkling echoed from the hallway and I heard the mehs and the maahwrs before I even saw the four little white paws and dark pointed ears.
“Contraband!” Finn called out to him, momentarily releasing me so he could bend down and scoop my cat up in his arms. “I missed ya, buddy.”
“Hey,” I corrected sternly, but my tone softened the second I saw the two most important men in my life cuddling with each other. “He’s not exactly contraband anymore, you know.”
Finn just shrugged and kept right on scratching the top of my cat’s head, chuckling as Oliver craned his neck up even further as if to say, Oh yeah. Right there.
“That may be true,” Finn announced as he set Oliver back down on all four legs. “But he’ll always be contraband to me.”
I could only laugh as Finn winked down at my cat, shrugged his coat off, and then turned to survey the rest of my apartment with his hands on his hips.
“So this is the new place, huh? Cat-friendly and everything?”
“Cat-friendly and everything.”
He chewed on the inside of his cheek, his eyes still roaming around. It must’ve been a little like deja vú for him—same furniture, same decor, same cat, just a different place. Different girl, too.
“Well,” he announced as he gripped the neck of his wrinkled grey T-shirt and yanked it over his head. “I’ve seen enough.”
While I laughed, he was already unbuttoning his jeans. “Just like that?”
“Yep,” he told me with a wink and shoved his jeans down. “Just like that.”
So, I shrugged and followed his lead. I kicked off my work shoes, ignored the fact that Oliver had parked it ri
ght in the hallway and watched us with wide, sea foam-grey eyes, and jerked my own T-shirt over my head. Finn’s light eyes darkened as I unclasped my bra and let it dangle from my fingertips playfully before tossing the lacy material at him. He just flipped it over his shoulder, waiting patiently for me to catch up to him, his eyes following my every move.
By the time he advanced on me, there was nothing separating us anymore. No more clothing. No more distance. No more vulnerability. No more insecurity. No more hesitation. No more painful pasts.
His hands closed around my face and he sealed his lips over mine. I breathed him in, my senses filling with his earthy musk, his heat, his love, everything that I loved and everything that I’d taken for granted. And when our bodies and everything else in between finally found each other again, this time there was no holding back.
This time I let him in.
“What greater gift than the love of a cat?”
—Charles Dickens
EPILOGUE
Nine Months Later
“Ah! Watch it, contraband!” Finn yelped. “Goddammit, we need to trim your claws or something. Shit, that’s sharp!”
“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” I laughed from my chair next to him. “It’s not that bad.”
“Uh, yeah, I think it is. RB’s got some serious talons on him right now.”
I just rolled my eyes and tucked my Matthews Brewing Co. beer bottle underneath my chair on the patio. All I had to do was hold my arms out and my cat obliged, leaping from one lap to the other, and I hugged him to my chest.
“Hey, buddy,” I murmured into his soft fur. “Daddy’s being a jerk right now. And a grump. You just stay right here for awhile.”
Finn huffed out a laugh and shook his head at us. Oliver, naturally, responded by nuzzling my neck before scooting down my lap to tilt his head right into my left boob.
