CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jake stops the car in front of the cobalt blue office building Finn now calls home. The door is open and he’s out before Jake can make for his handle, but Jake’s huff at his inability to complete his task is easily heard from my place in the backseat.
“It’s good to see you again, Aspen. Have a nice night.” Jake tips his head in my direction, his black tie bunching in the opening of his suit.
I meet Finn at the front of the building and wait while he holds the door open for me.
“I didn’t see Jake out there when I came home tonight. How’d he pick us up so fast?” I question as we stand next to a polished metal elevator door.
Finn sticks a key card the size and shape of a credit card into a slot and the doors open. “Yeah, you didn’t see him on your way out from work either.”
I follow him into the small space and work through his answer. Did Jake follow me home and I not notice? That idea sounds ludicrous. Finn stands behind me and wraps his arms under mine pulling my back to his chest. We ride the elevator up until a musical ding announces our arrival.
The door opens into a small foyer and I get my first view of Finn’s apartment. The large room is open, with a kitchen and living room as the main focus. Large windows on both sides offer an uninhibited view of the city as it stretches out beyond us. The sun hasn’t begun to set, so light reflects off other buildings in the area causing glimmers that catch my eye.
“Wow, Finn. This is beautiful.”
“I agree. Gorgeous,” Finn replies, but his eyes aren’t on the windows when I turn around. Instead he stands in front of me with his hands in his pockets. The smell of something cooking is present the more I walk into the room, but I can’t place the meal. “Take off your coat. Dinner should be ready in no time.”
I pass my coat over to him and watch as he throws it over the back of a random dark wooden kitchen stool. The stools match a dark butcher block surface, which runs the space of the kitchen. Everything but the stainless steel appliances is dark, but it doesn’t make the space seem small. Rather the entire effect has a bold feel to it. Strong. Manly.
Even with our “I love yous” from earlier this evening, the air feels heavy. A slight coating of awkward hangs over each word. To try and lighten the mood, I sit on the second stool and lean over the bar counter to catch a glimpse at what could be causing the delicious smells.
“You already had this cooking? What if I hadn’t agreed to come tonight?” I question from my seat.
Finn shrugs. “I hedged my bets. If you didn’t agree right away I was prepared to break out a tear or two if I had to watch you walk away from me.” He speaks his answer lightly, but the words aren’t a joke.
I have no idea how to respond, so I don’t and change the topic instead. “What’s for dinner?” Finn cooks less than I do, so to be honest I’m a little hesitant to eat whatever he’s made for us.
He opens the oven door with one hand. “Lasagna, but in an attempt at making a new go at this relationship, I have to be honest and tell you I didn’t make it.” He removes the cheap metal pan with two black oven mitts and places it on top of the stove with delicate movements. Purchased or not it’s obvious he’s proud of these noodles. “There's a little place down the road and they sell them pre-made. I had to reheat, but since I was eighteen the last time I burned a pan of water, I had Jake come in and set the stove to the right settings.”
I chuckle at his comment before I reply, “It smells magnificent. I’m sure it will taste wonderful and we’ll pretend you did it all on your own."
He turns to me with a new seriousness in his eyes. “I would appreciate that.” Finn retrieves plates and silverware before he dishes up two servings for us. “I'd let us eat on the couch since we do at your place, but if I spilled on the new furniture, the interior designer would kill me.”
My eyes move to the right and I spot the white sofa he must be talking about. The portion of the room used as a living room is again very masculine and sparse in design. Each piece has been placed together to feel as they were created for this room. “Your interior designer?” Finn hasn't struck me as the type of guy to have someone decorate for him.
“My mother, but she insisted I refer to her as the designer during the process.” He slides a plate to me from across the counter and stands on his side to eat.
“It’s streamlined and personal. I like it. You’ll have to tell her I think she did well.” The space is adult yet totally Finn with the large screen television and classic video game posters hanging from the living area walls.
“Are we going to spend the whole night talking about my condo, or can I start in on my apology now?”
“Oh…well… yes. Feel free to start whenever you want, but I need to apologize as well. I overreacted.” My head falls and I put in more effort than necessary into cutting my first bite of lasagna.
“Contrary to what you think, you didn’t do anything wrong. If I had been honest with you from the beginning, none of what happened last weekend would have been a problem. I was too caught up in my own issues to see what I was doing and how it would affect you."
I buy myself more time to answer by taking my first bite. The noodles are tender and the sauce gives it the perfect spicy flavor. I moan over the taste and Finn flinches across the countertop.
“Everyone thought I was crazy to be upset about it, but finding out my boyfriend,” I hesitate on the word boyfriend. Can I still call him that? Well… it's too late to go back now so I stick with it and continue on, “has a few billion dollars was a lot to take in. It felt like everyone else knew and was on the sidelines laughing at me.”
“I promise that wasn’t the case, Aspen. Trey told me every day I was a jackass for not telling you and he warned it would bite me in the ass one day. I didn’t want to listen to him.” He puts down his fork and reaches across the space for my hand. I can’t resist his super sweet side and wonder if he’s figured out it's my weakness. His hand is warm on mine and my body soaks up having contact with Finn again. “I tried so many times to bring it up, but always stopped. I let the whole situation go too long. It’s all on me."
I nod my agreement but don’t comment. The room is quiet except for the sounds of our chewing until Finn pulls a remote from a nearby drawer and then a soft soothing melody fills the room. The male singer’s deep voice floats around the space.
“James Otto?” I ask trying to place the singer.
