You’re here? At my place?
I don’t know what to think. He doesn’t seem happy, and this is starting to feel less “grand gesture” and more “desperate stalker.”
I’m sorry. I can go. I’ve been drinking & my friends said all these things & now I’m here.
I’ve barely hit send when his response comes through.
Come upstairs
It’s too late to change my mind, because the door to the building clicks as he buzzes me in. I ride the elevator up to the sixth floor. Right as I approach apartment 6A, the door opens, and Finn steps out in only sweatpants. I have to swallow to keep saliva in my mouth. His abs are in full effect tonight, and they’re even better than I remember.
He runs a hand through his hair, pulls the door almost closed behind him, and whispers, “Hey.”
“Oh my God. You were sleeping.” This just keeps getting worse. “It’s late.”
He smiles a little. “It’s barely eleven, but, yeah. I was out like a light.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry to show up like this, I just, I was confused, and your texts were so—”
“It’s fine. You’ve been drinking?”
“I don’t normally drink, not like this. I just had a really bad day—”
“I told you not to come.” He glances behind him. “But if you’re drunk and alone, I’m not going to send you away.”
I’m an idiot. This is why I don’t drink—my judgment sucks. I’m about to apologize when I realize Finn is whispering. “You’re trying to be quiet,” I say, my remorse fading. “Why?”
He looks down the hall, his eyes distant. “Listen, I . . . I have to tell you something.”
My heart stops. I reallyaman idiot—a blind, trusting, rash idiot. “You’re not alone.”
“No.”
My stomach revolts. My martinis are about to get way dirtier. “Shit. I . . . I can’t believe I came here.”
“Let me explain—”
I canonlysee this situation getting worse, and I don’t want to stick around to watch it crash and burn. I step back.
“Stop.” He lunges for my arm but misses while trying to keep his apartment door from shutting. “It’s not what you think. Come inside, and I’ll explain everything.”
I freeze out of pure shock. “Have you lost your mind? You want me to come in where she is?”
“No.” He rubs an eye with the heel of his hand. “Look. Fuck. I didn’t want to do it this way. It’s so damn complicated.”
“Do what?”
“It’s my daughter. She’s inside. Sleeping.”
“Your . . .what?” I’m not breathing. My brain, fuzzy from the alcohol, takes a few seconds to catch up. “You have a daughter?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but she’s in my life, and I was afraid you’d freak out. I planned to say something eventually, but thatplusan ex-wife? I didn’t think you were ready for all that.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, that’s a lie. I’m the one who wasn’t ready.”
I go to him. “Oh, God. I-I’m sorry. We’ve only known each other a couple weeks, of course I don’t expect you to spill your life story right away.”
His forehead wrinkles, his eyes darting over my face. “Really?”
“Yes, really. God. I’m so embarrassed.”
