His smile falters a little as he takes in the open cupboards, pan, orange juice on the counter. The energy in the room changes as his eyes land on the eggs. “Breakfast.”
“Is that okay?” I asked. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”
He blinks a few times and looks back at me. “Yes. God, yes. Thank you. I’m not sure if I’ve ever mentioned how much I love breakfast food.”
I laugh. “Good to know you can still surprise me after all this time.”
“Yes, all—what’s it been, twenty days?”
“Twenty-three. We met on the first.”
“Youmetmeon the first. I like to think I knew you those few days I had your journal.”
I fluff the eggs with my spatula as Finn’s words fluff my heart. He’s more of a man than anyone I’ve been with, and yet so sweetly sensitive. When I look back, he’s leaning against the doorframe. “Sadie helped me unpack the kitchen,” he says. “And we had an inside joke about breakfast.”
“Oh.” I turn back to the pan before he can see the disappointment on my face. Finn’s never made me feel unwelcome here, but now I know—the kitchen belongs to them. I guessshewoke up early enough to surprise him. “Sorry.”
“No, I’m not upset,” he says. “I’m really fucking happy.”
I glance over my shoulder. “Happy . . .?”
“I just realized when I walked in here—I haven’t thought about Sadie in days. Not that I’d been thinking about her with you, but little things over the past year have reminded me of her each day, whether I like it or not. So to go without that . . .” He crosses his arms. “It’s a relief.”
I’m not sure if I should feel as excited about that as he does, but I do. It isn’t easy to get over someone. I can’t fault him for being hung up on her after the way she hurt him. “I love you,” I tell him. I’m still testing out the words. They’re a little foreign.
He also looks a bit startled. “I have a Christmas present for you.”
My heart falls. It’s not the response a girl wants to hear to a declaration like that. I try not to deflate, though. Last night’s argument was foreign territory for us, and I don’t want to return there. I didn’t like having to stand up to Finn, but there are some things I can’t budge on. This time of year, I owe my dad my compassion.
“A present?” I ask with a smile, trying for optimistic. “What is it?”
He goes into the hall closet and returns with a small rectangular box wrapped in gold and green paper. The shape gives it away, and I wonder what kind of jewelry it is—bracelet or necklace. I don’t care. Either would be nice, although jewelry is the kind of thing Rich always bought because he didn’t know what else to get me.
Finn hands me the present. “Open it.”
“Now?”
He nods, so I untie the metallic ribbon and carefully unfold the paper so I don’t look as eager as I feel. The box is smooth black leather, somewhat untraditional for jewelry, but then I see Mont Blanc printed across the top. The top creaks open to reveal a slim, rose gold ballpoint pen. “Wow.”
“I thought that pink color would match the leather nicely. Of your journals.”
“It’s beautiful. I love it.” I look up at him. This wasn’t picked out by a sales associate. Finn really thought about what I’d like. But my dad has a couple of these pens—they aren’t cheap. “You shouldn’t be spending money on me.”
“I want to.” He cups my face, brushing his index finger over the tattoo behind my ear. “I love you too, by the way.”
The gesture warms my skin—and my soul. Acknowledging my tattoo when he says he loves me is accepting that my pain is part of me, and it doesn’t scare him. “I also have something for you.”
“I don’t need anything more than this,” he says and kisses me.
“Be that as it may, I already paid for it, and it’s non-refundable.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “It doesn’t come in a box, and it can’t be wrapped, but it’ll be delivered next week. Aren’t you curious?”
He narrows his eyes playfully. “All right. What is it?”
I grin. “A new website.”
“Awhat?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “No way. Can’t be.”
Finn’s website needed work. The photos took forever to load, and it was minimalistic, but not in a good way. The only thing worth keeping was his bio and the photo he posted with it. He told me it’d been taken at sunset on a family vacation to the beach. His bronze skin turns his enormous smile blindingly white. His hair is lightened from the sun, his eyes so green they’re almost gold. He’s male model material anyway, but in that photo, he’s Greek god status. “I hired one of the designers we use at the agency. He has a six-month waiting list, but I sweet-talked him into a rush job.”
