“It’s fine,” he lied, turning away from the bookstore window. He wasn’t about to tell her that his world was crumbling at his feet. Knowing her, she’d tell him it served him right. He hadn’t been a perfect partner by any means, but Holly loved to point out his failings. “What’s up?”
“I hate to do this, especially over the phone, but I wanted to let you know as soon as possible.” She paused, and Finn could picture her perfectly—tucking her hair behind her ear, the way she always did when delivering bad news. “About winter break… I’m not going to be able to take Brooklyn after all.”
Finn closed his eyes, a familiar resignation settling over him. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Don’t be like that,” Holly sighed. “Something came up with work. There’s a huge opportunity in San Francisco. It’s last-minute, but it could be really big for my career. I can’t pass it up.”
“And Brooklyn?” Finn asked, his jaw tightening. “What about her?”
“She’ll understand. She always does.” Holly’s voice shifted, taking on that cajoling tone that had once worked on him. “You know I’d take her if I could. But this is important, Finn.”
“More important than your daughter?” The words escaped before he could stop them.
A beat of silence. “That’s not fair.”
“No, what’s not fair is that I have to be the one to tell her. Again.” Finn ran a hand through his hair, aware of the curious glances from passersby. “She’s been looking forward to this, Holly.”
That was a stretch, but he wasn’t about to tell Holly that their daughter was used to her flaking out, that she was more upset about the prospect of missing out on time with her friends than she would be once she heard she wasn’t going to see her mother.
“I’ll make it up to her, I promise. Maybe spring break? Or summer? We could do something really special.”
The hollow promises were too familiar. “You need to tell her yourself.”
“I will, of course I will,” Holly said quickly. “But I thought you should know first, so you can…you know, prepare her. You’re so much better at handling her emotions than I am.”
Finn’s laugh was bitter. “Because I’ve had plenty of practice.”
“Finn, please. I’m trying here.” A hint of irritation crept into her voice. “Look, I’ll call her tonight, okay? Just…maybe give her a heads-up so she’s not blindsided?”
“Fine,” Finn said, too tired to argue. “I’ll tell her.”
“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver, really.” The relief in her voice made his stomach turn. “Tell her I love her, and I’ll call later to explain everything.”
“Sure,” Finn said, knowing the call would likely never come. Or if it did, it would be brief, unsatisfying, leaving Brooklyn with more questions than answers.
“I’ve got to run. Thanks for understanding, Finn. You always do.”
The call ended before he could respond, leaving him standing on the sidewalk, phone still pressed to his ear. Finn lowered it slowly, staring at the blank screen.
Of course this would happen today. Because one emotional disaster wasn’t enough.
He glanced back at the bookstore window, but Ollie had disappeared from view. For a moment, Finn’s fingers hovered over the screen, tempted to text him. To reach out. To not be alone with this.
But he deleted the half-formed message. Ollie needed space, and Finn had no right to burden him further.
Instead, he walked to his car, each step heavier than the last, dreading the conversation with Brooklyn. How many times had he promised her that her mother loved her, that she was important? How many disappointments had he tried to soften, excuses he’d made on Holly’s behalf?
As he slid behind the wheel, Finn rested his forehead against the steering wheel, allowing himself one moment of weakness before he had to be strong again. For Brooklyn.
Just once, it would be nice if someone could be the strong one while he fell apart.
TWENTY-ONE
The afternoon crawled by in a haze of forced normalcy. Ollie went through the motions—entering the new arrivals into inventory, helping customers, restocking the romance display—but his mind kept circling back to Finn’s words like a scratched record.
I’m Rhett Wilder.
He’d handled the revelation badly, he knew that. The hurt had come out as anger, the shock as accusation. But how was he supposed to react when the man he was falling in love with turned out to be the author whose work had shifted his understanding of what love could look like? In reality, the issue was that he felt like a fool. He wouldn’t have been nearly as much of a geeky fan-boy if he’d known.
