I’m not sure what to say, so I place my hand in his and give it a good, long squeeze.
“I’m building the cabin for him, too. To give him a place to go and live well before he dies. He’s been in that shithole for so long.” Regret and disgust fill Finn’s voice.
My heart swells. People who didn’t know Finn thought he was a trouble-maker. Brady and I knew the truth.
“My uncle’s not the only reason I left so quickly yesterday,” Finn admits. “Seeing you... it’s a lot.”
“Why, Finn?”
His eyes fall to the table. “Not a lot has changed, Lennon. Not for me, anyway.”
I understand what he’s really saying. And it both terrifies me and exhilarates me at once.
“Do you wish you hadn’t come?” I ask.
“Of course not. We had an agreement—”
“That was a long time ago.” I sound like Laine.
“It wasalla long time ago, and for me, everything is the same as it was back then.”
My eyes fall to the top button of my jeans. Why can’t I tell him I still love him as much as I did the day I left for Texas?Because he’s not the only one I love.
Finn’s finger touches the skin beneath my chin, lifting it until my gaze is back on his.
I smile hesitantly. This is risky. The slope we’re standing on is slippery. We all knew what coming back here would mean. We all know the danger of confronting what we’ve been avoiding all these years. At some point, we’ll have to boil over.
Finn releases my chin and sits back. He’s in jeans and a maroon T-shirt. His honeyed hair sticks out from under a white baseball cap.
“I can tell you’re still a sweet talker.” I smirk as I say it.
“Maybe. Or maybe you’ve always brought out my sweet side.”
I give him a look. “Case in point.”
Finn chuckles and stands. “What do you want?” he asks.
I lift my bitter half-empty coffee. “I’m good.”
Finn swings his head from one side to the other. “We both know you don’t want to drink that. What do you want?”
I look at him and try not to blush. “Almond milk caramel latte.”
Finn bends down so his face is only inches from mine. “I don’t know if you’re trying to save money or calories, but you deserve to have whatever you want.”
He places a kiss in the exact same spot as Brady did last night, and goes to the counter to order.
The rest of our time together is not as intense. For the next half hour, I tell Finn about Laine and my job and Dallas. Three sets of doors lead into the coffee shop, and one of them is locked, and my storytelling is punctuated by our laughter when people try to open the locked door. We slip into Old Finn and Old Lennon, and it’s glorious.
When it’s time for me to head over to the church, Finn pulls a laptop from a bag I hadn’t noticed beneath the table. He opens it, and I lean down to hug him, sneaking a peek at his screen. I don’t understand what I see; it looks like he raked his hand over the keyboard fifty-seven times.
“See you soon,” I say, straightening.
Finn winks and turns his attention to his screen.
I leave, tossing my empty paper coffee cup in the recycling as I pass, and walk out to Laine’s car. I can feel Finn’s gaze burning into my back, and I’m sure he’s wondering why I’m driving an expensive car, but I can’t afford more than black coffee.
* * *
