“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I push off the counter. “Nah-uh. You’re not going anywhere.”
“I can’t deal with watching you read them. If you hate them, if you find the behavior ‘alarming’—”
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
Eyes down, she raises her palms. “It’s fine. I just need to know now, before I get any deeper with you.”
“I don’t think you understand just how deep this goes for me. I’m at the fucking bottom here. So don’t try and convince me of what I want.”
She looks at me finally, small and lonely in her chair, swallowed up by her puffy coat and scarf. She’s still wearing her mittens for God’s sake, like she’s about to make a quick exit.
I pull a chair in front of her and start removing her gloves. “I mean, incestuous fantasies would be an adjustment for me, but it’s not enough to scare me off.”
She smiles. Her fingertips are cold, so I bring them to my mouth, blowing hot air on them. “If you’ll agree to let me control the photo shoot, then my answer is yes.”
Her eyebrows meet in the middle of her forehead. She glances at the journals. “Don’t you want to read them first?”
“You don’t have to hide from me.” I don’t have to think too hard to figure out what’s in the journal. She mentioned her guilt. From the start, Halston has responded to dominance in the bedroom. I’m sure whatever she’s ashamed of involves some kind of punishment for her past. I’ve never been into BDSM, but I’m sure as hell not about to walk away from the possibility of exploring it with her. “I’ll never think you’re strange for what turns you on.” I squeeze her hands in mine. “It’s human nature.”
“Thank you,” she says softly. “I’m sorry we fought.”
“I wasn’t hearing you. When you brought up money, it got to me because you’re right.” It’s my turn to look away. It’s not about the money. I hate that it’s been a year, and I still haven’t booked any solid, non-commercial work or sold anything off my website. I meet her eyes again. “I want you to know, I’m still doing fine. But I can’t live like this forever. I need more money to come in.”
“It’s not my place to say,” she says. “I don’t know anything about money. My dad gives it to me when I need it. He pays my rent and most of my bills. I have a 401k and a brokerage account, but his people manage it.”
Having been one of the Wall Street guys her dad would hire, I don’t like the idea of that. It’s just another way to control her. “Get your bank information from your dad,” I tell her. “You shouldn’t put that in someone else’s hands.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“I’ll teach you everything you need to know about your finances. We’ll go through it together. And about Rich . . .” I inhale a breath. On this, I don’t want to budge. But when she was out there, being pissed, I promised myself I would try harder to be more understanding. “Tell your dad when you’re ready. As long as you and I and Rich know the arrangement, I can live with it alittlelonger.”
She smiles. “You’re so good at taking care of me.”
Fuck fuck fuck. My chest aches. Nobody ever said that to me, not my mom, definitely not Kendra. I’m not even sure Marissa will think of me as a good dad once Kendra’s through with her. Halston’s hands are nice and warm in mine now. I kiss the place where her palms meet. “We’ll do the photo shoot. I need to have final say, though.”
“You will.”
“There’s a right way to do this, I knew there was, I just didn’t even want to entertain the idea. I’ve tried so hard to separate money and art. I don’t like them to overlap, because it feels cheap. And the thought of putting you out there like that for other men to look at worries me, but that goes without saying.”
“I promise, Finn, nobody gets me but you. I’m yours to share with the world, not the other way around.”
“I’m not sharing you. You’re mine, and that won’t change.” I unwrap her scarf from her neck, and her hair frizzes with static. I smooth it down. “I would’ve gone to look for you, but I didn’t know where to start. I don’t even know exactly which block your apartment’s on.”
“I wasn’t there long. It doesn’t feel like home. I got the journals, then walked around until I ended up here.”
“You should give up that apartment.” As soon as I say it, I know it’s right. I want our lives merged for real. This will be the first step toward showing everyone—exes, parents, children—this is real. “If we fight, if we piss each other off, I want you to come back here. Always. No matter how bad it is. Even if it means I’m banned to the couch.”
She doesn’t hesitate. “My lease is up in March.”
“Do you think it’s too soon for us to move in together?”
She answers with a small, goading smile. “Totally.”
“March it is, then?”
She stands and floats onto my lap, into my arms, her laugh soft and angelic. “I got your message.”
“Which one? I sent like eight.”
