by Melody Grace
No, scratch that. I was great.
I still wonder; if I hadn’t dropped out of drama school, would I have had a chance to make it? I know it’s a one in a million dream, but I feel like I bailed before I even tried. I was too busy trying to drown out my heartbreak to focus on my craft. Other classmates went to auditions every morning before school, and spent their nights in extra workshops and sessions. But by then, I was already swept up in the glitter of neon highs, chasing the party from dive bar to flashing clubs in a futile effort to wipe Finn from my mind and heart. I went off track, and blew my one chance to chase my dreams.
Could I have made it? I guess I’ll never know. I close the case with a sigh, turning my attention back to the day ahead. I stop by the rescue first to visit with all the dogs. Edith is out when I arrive, and my chores there take no time at all, so after checking on the puppies and Chester, I head to the grocery store in the next town. I know Lottie passed party-planning duties over to Dee, but I can’t help picking out some balloons and streamers in bright, cheerful colors. Then there’s her favorite ice cream cake, cookies, chips. My cart is almost full before I rein myself back in and start ticking off my own list.
My phone buzzes as I’m stocking up on paper towels. It’s Sawyer. I check the message, smiling.
‘It turns out most vets are failed stand-up comics. Save me from jokes about bitches and hos’.
I tap back a response. “I’m afraid I’m neutered on that.”
‘oww.’ He sends a dog emoji. ‘See you when I get back.’
I put my phone away, feeling better already, but my good mood lasts only another ten paces, far enough for me to turn the corner and run straight into Cami Foster. I cringe and try to turn my cart around, but it’s way too heavy to make a subtle exit. She sees me and lets out a gasp.
“Eva! Oh my god! How are you?”
“Great!” I answer, forcing a smile. Cami was the queen bee of our high school, and from the looks of things, she hasn’t changed. She’s still got the glossy blond hair, and a tanned perfect body squeezed into white shorts and a peach-colored blouse. “How’s things?”
“Oh, you know.” Cami gives a little shrug. “Just back to visit the parents. I live in Atlanta now, with my fiancé.” She thrusts her left hand out to show off her massive diamond engagement ring, like I’m supposed to kiss it.
“Wow,” I murmur politely. “Congratulations.”
“What about you?” she coos. “I heard you and Delilah are realtors now. That’s just so cute. And there you were voted ‘most likely to succeed’. Funny how things turn out.” She gives a smug little giggle, and my heart sinks. I wish I could reply with some kind of smart comeback, but my mind comes up blank.
Cami’s eyes go to my cart, stuffed full of junk food. She makes a tutting noise. “Oh, Eva, honey, what are you doing? You know I’ve been training as a nutritionist? I’d be, like, so happy to give you some pointers on clean eating.” Her expression turns earnest. “There’s nothing more important than what we put in our bodies.”
“She knows that.” A pair of strong arms slide casually around me. I make a noise of surprise as Finn reaches past me to shake her hand with a charming smile. “Finn McKay. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” Cami echoes, flushing. “Finn, it’s me: Cami! I love your music,” she adds breathlessly. “I have every record, and go to all your shows.”
“Cami.” Finn furrows his brow. “Oh yeah. You used to waitress at the Corner Stop, right?”
“No.” Cami is bright red now. “We went to high school together.”
“We did? Huh. How about that?” Finn turns back to me and gives an easy smile. “And I’m usually so good with faces.”
I’m torn between being annoyed that he’s shown up again, and delighted that he’s winding Cami up so easily. There’s a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye, like we’re in this together.
“So what are we talking about?” he asks me, ignoring her.
“Healthy eating.” I smile back. “Apparently, my body is a temple.”
“Damn right it is.” Finn’s gaze slides lower, and when he looks up again, there’s a hungry look in his eyes that makes my stomach curl. “Any time you want a Sunday worship, you let me know.”
I try not to flush. I’m standing in the middle of a crowded grocery store, and somehow he makes me feel like we’re alone in the world.
Focus, Eva. No distractions.
I pull my gaze away from him. Cami is still standing there, but she’s looking between us with something like disbelief. “Are you two?” She pauses, like she can’t even bring herself to say the words.
Finn chuckles. “Not through lack of trying.” He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “I’ve been begging this one to give me a chance, but she keeps giving me the brush-off. Hey, you’re a woman,” he says, looking at Cami. “Any ideas how I can win her over?”
Cami gapes, wordless. “I… Um…”
“I know, it’s a tough one,” Finn agrees. “But I guess when you’re as beautiful and intelligent as Eva, you’ve got your pick of every guy in town.”
He gives me another smoldering look, and even though I know it’s just for show to get under Cami’s skin, I still feel that heat calling out in answer. I look away, blood rushing to my cheeks.
“Well, we shouldn’t keep you,” Finn says at last to Cami. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than hang out here, peering into people’s grocery baskets.”
Cami blinks. “Sure. Of course.”
“You take care now.” Finn gives a final smile then turns his back, ignoring her completely. I watch over his shoulder as Cami snaps back to life and goes scurrying away.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I tell Finn, trying to hide my grin.
“Why not?” He reaches into my cart and pulls out an apple. He bites down with a crunch. “C’mon, did you see her face? She was always such a gossip in school.”
“I know, but she still is. This will be all over the state by lunchtime.” I can already see Cami by the registers, talking furiously on her cell phone. “And you know in her version you were all over her.”
“So? You really care what those lightweights think?”
“No.” I sigh. “But I’d prefer they didn’t think about me at all.”
“Too bad.” Finn meets my eyes. “You’re impossible to forget.”
Awareness zings through me again, but this time, I remember all my earlier promises to myself – not to get distracted, or let his games tie me up in a tangle all over again.
I grip my cart and give him a polite smile. “I better get going too. See you around.” I try to steer away from him, but Finn just falls into step beside me.
“So what are we doing today?” he asks.
“We aren’t doing anything. I have chores and errands.”
“Glamorous.” Finn doesn’t seem to notice my cool tone. He reaches up and plucks a package from the shelf and puts it in my cart.
“Finn!”
“What? You like Wheaties.”
I pause, and look at the package. He’s right. I do like Wheaties. “I can get my own,” I tell him, putting them back. “I am capable of doing my own shopping.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“So why are you following me around?”
“For the warm and pleasant company?”
“Finn!” I stop in the middle of the aisle, my frustration boiling over. “What are you doing?” I demand.
“Trying to help you with the high shelves.” He grins at me, boyish and unconcerned. “But I guess my help isn’t welcome.”
“Stop it,” I say, suddenly feeling an ache too sharp for words. “Please, Finn. Whatever you’re playing at, it’s not funny.” His smile slips at the edges, but I push on. “The house hunt, the kiss the other night, it’s not a game to me. This is my life, and you can’t just walk in and turn everything upside down like this. It’s not fair on me, okay? None of this is fair!”
I can
hear the twisted pain on that final word. I hate that I can’t just play along and laugh it off, but it hurts too much.
It’s all too real for me.
There’s silence. I search his face, for clues, but Finn’s expression is impossible to read. Finally, he looks back at me, those blue eyes soft and warm. “You’re right,” he says gently. “I’m sorry.”
Sorry for what? I want to ask. Leaving me all those years ago? Never reaching out? Strolling back like nothing happened? Or kissing me like nobody’s ever kissed me – since you?
But Finn doesn’t say another word. He takes the Wheaties down again and puts them in my cart, then walks away, strolling to the end of the aisle without looking back.
I sink against the wall of cereal and try not to cry. I should be glad. I stood my ground, and he respected my wishes.
So why do I feel like I wished he had stayed?
Back at home, I unload the groceries and try to banish all thought of Finn. I have plenty to do: cleaning, laundry, planning my meals for the week ahead. Usually, I relish the time alone. Today, though, the house seems too quiet, so I leave the windows wide and play old country songs on the radio, trying to lose myself in the brisk activity. I dust and wipe, vacuum and clean. This house belongs to the Petersons, who bought it a couple of years back but spend most of their time in Arizona now. It’s one of my favorites to housesit, a rustic, woodsy place with creaking beams and a big old working fireplace that keeps the whole house warm in winter. Delilah keeps saying I should convince them to put in on the market and score a sweet commission for making the sale, but I guess I just don’t have the ruthless streak it takes to be a real estate agent. I understand why they want to keep it around.
I can’t help wondering how Finn’s settling into the big house by the creek, if he’s rattling around there alone, or if he has friends in already from out of town. When I told the owners who was interested in taking it, they tripled the price they wanted in rent, but I guess it was still pocket change to Finn. It’s weird to think of him now, such a big star, when it seems like he’s barely changed at all. Sure, he’s a little taller, more cocky and charming, and that hair is falling longer in his eyes, but he seemed at ease at Dixie’s the other night. It was like he doesn’t have platinum-selling records on the wall somewhere and people on the other side of the world who know his name. I’m glad fame hasn’t changed him. Despite everything that happened between us, I never stopped wanting the best for him, for him to get everything we’d dreamed about on those long nights together. To make a life for himself somewhere, away from here.
Emphasis on the far.
I find myself digging out my phone again and hooking it up to the speaker system to play his debut album out loud. The chords slip sweetly through the empty rooms, so familiar now that I know them all by heart. I must have played this record a hundred times over, memorizing each lyric and searching every word for some hint about his life. I remember the first time I heard the first single; I nearly hit the floor right there in the middle of the crowded Manhattan coffee shop. I thought I was hallucinating at first, hearing Finn’s voice slip through the speakers, that I’d conjured him up out of heartache and sheer longing. But no, when I haltingly asked the guy behind the counter who it was playing, and he told me Finn’s name, I swear my heart skipped a beat.
He was out there, in the world. He hadn’t just vanished completely.
I wish I could say I didn’t go off the deep end a little, but I’m only human. I must have googled every last piece of information I could find, reading his interviews with music blogs and streaming his grainy live performances online. Whoever was playing his music that day in the café must have been ahead of the trend, because soon Finn was everywhere. A genuine smash hit, climbing the charts and covering every magazine with those blue eyes and soulful, almost bashful smile. In person, he could be infuriatingly arrogant, but in interviews he always seemed kind of uncomfortable, looking away from the camera and drumming his fingers restlessly. Which, of course, only added to his appeal. The press speculated about his love life, gossiped like crazy about the latest cool singer or hot actress on his arm. Even here in town I would hear the rumors, traded over the checkout counter and morning cups of coffee. He was our claim to fame now, the wayward son made good, and even though it would have been easier if he’d just stayed gone, there’s a part of me that knew this was inevitable.
One day, Finn would be coming home.
I’m finishing up my laundry when there’s a knock at the door. “It’s open!” I yell, expecting Lottie and Kit to help make cookies, but instead, a male voice clears his throat behind me.
“Cute panties.”
I whirl around, clutching an armful of pink lace.
He’s here. Finn. Standing in my kitchen, smirking at my underwear like the past three hours haven’t happened at all.
“What are you doing here?” I flush, sweeping my clean laundry into the hamper. And worst of all, I realize too late that his album is still playing on loud.
Finn pauses as the music slips out, unmistakable, and gives me a knowing grin.
“It’s the radio,” I say, flushing, just as the song ends – and it moves to the next track on the album.
“Uh huh.” The smile doesn’t shift.
I glare. “Well? What do you want?”
“You said the door was open.” Finn grins.
I open my mouth to argue, then stop, registering the bouquet of roses in his hand. Not store-bought, but the sweet-scented white ones that grow wild in the mansion gardens. I look back up at Finn. There’s something different about him. His hair is back in a neat man-bun, he’s wearing a button-down shirt, and are those…?
“Slacks.” I say in disbelief. “You’re wearing slacks.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grins.
“But why?”
He shrugs. “I’m wooing you.”
“You’re what?” The words sound so bizarre, I laugh out loud in shock.
“Wooing,” he repeats, strolling closer and setting the roses on the kitchen counter. “In certain cultures, it’s tradition for a man to pursue a woman with romantic gestures and gifts. You know, flowers, candy, teddy bears from the county fair.”
“I know what wooing is,” I tell him briskly, gathering up the rest of my clothes and walking past him into the hall. “But I don’t know why you’re trying it with me. Didn’t we just have a conversation about you quitting with all these games?”
“This isn’t a game,” he says, following me to the stairs. He waits until I’ve put down the hamper, then pulls something from his back pocket. It’s a box of candy, chocolates. “Your favorites,” he adds, presenting them to me ceremoniously. “I even ate all the nutty ones you hate.”
I stare at him, at his infuriatingly handsome face, and those smiling blue eyes, and the candy he’s handing out like he disappeared without a word.
Five years, and he suddenly brings me a Whitman’s sampler. Is he for real?
Yes, my heart tells me. Say yes.
“I guess I should be flattered.” I try to joke it away. “Used to be all it took was a smile and a wink to get the girls in the backseat of your car.”
“I’m a changed man.” Finn’s smile gets wider.
“Sure you are.”
“I drive a Mustang now.” He laughs. “The backseat’s heated. Not that we ever needed the help,” he adds, giving me a slow burn grin.
No, we didn’t. God, we steamed up the windows of that old car any chance we got. The memories play like a movie in my mind, how we would sneak away and park in the shade of the cypress trees. Some nights, we just talked, my head on his chest, so close I could hear his heart beat. It was the steadiest lullaby I’ve ever known.
But other nights… I couldn’t have slept if you drugged me, the heady mix of desire ricocheting through my system. I drove my parents crazy, breaking curfew every other night to see him that summer until they pretty much gave up trying to keep me in my own bed. It was one of
the perks of being a good girl, good student, great grades. I’d never misbehaved in my life, so I guess they trusted me enough to think I’d make the right call.
Now, Finn smiles like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
He turns and saunters out the front door before I have a chance to realize what he’s just said.
“Wait!” I go after him. “You can’t… I mean, I don’t…”
Finn looks up at me from the bottom of the steps. “Sorry, but I’m all out of gifts. You’ll just have to wait until tonight.”
I shake my head in frustration. I hate to show him that he’s getting under my skin, but I can’t play along any more. Every charming grin, every casual smile, it’s like a knife wound to my heart. “You have to stop this. Please, Finn.” My voice cracks. “This isn’t funny.”
Finn’s smile fades. “I know, sweetheart. Like I said, see you at eight.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me fuming on the front porch until I realize that for all my protests, I never actually turned him down.
Eight.
I agonize all afternoon over what to do. A date is impossible. Unthinkable after everything that’s happened. Haven’t I been telling myself all day, no more games?
But he promised it was different this time.
I groan out loud. Why does he have to be so damn charming? I shouldn’t even be here when he comes back to pick me up. I could go to Lottie’s, and have dinner there and hang out¸ and leave Finn stranded on the front porch not knowing where the hell I am. That would teach him to be so arrogant, just assuming I’m going to drop everything because he strolls on by to say ‘hi’. Maybe I’d get to wipe that knowing smile off his face, the one that says he sees right through me and knows every last one of my secret thoughts.
