I’ll still have to endure the other applicant having their time in charge next week, but I can handle it. I will be the picture of civility, even if I’m screaming on the inside, because I’m a professional. And I have to prove it.
My phone buzzes on my desk, and my stomach jumps when I see Finn’s text on the screen.
Finn:Hi, Millie. Would you be willing to meet me at Maggie’s for lunch?
My mind floods with the millions of things I want to say to him, but none of them should be said over a text.
Millie:Does one o’clock work?
***
As I round the corner toward Maggie’s, Finn’s hunched shoulders come into view through the raindrops in my vision, and my heart rate picks up just seeing him there. He stands under the awning, hands shoved in his pockets, while rain pelts the sidewalk and splashes onto his black shoes.
The fact that he waited for me spreads a soothing warmth through my limbs. I haven’t been back here since our date, and having someone with me will make it easier.
“Thanks for waiting.” I join him under the awning and unzip my raincoat.
Finn reaches for the strap on my arm and pulls my bag to his shoulder. “No problem. I’m sorry it took so long to get back here.” He places his hand flat against my lower back and opens the door with his other. The warmth of his palm stays there, but he doesn’t push me inside. It’s a stabilizing comfort while he waits for me to feel ready.
The smell of roasted coffee and warm, fresh bread hits my nose as I scan what I can see through the doorway: a few people waiting in line to order and a barista walking by with a tray of food.
I can do this. Even if Kyle is here, I have a buffer. I have Finn in my corner, and I may not know what’s going on between us, but I trust he would do anything I needed him to.
I cross the threshold, Finn following close behind me. My gaze darts around the restaurant as I take off my coat. I don’t see Kyle’s blond hair or hear his voice over the others. When I get into line, I breathe a sigh of relief, and Finn squeezes my shoulder.
“Remember when you thought you could hide me from your mom’s FaceTime call?” His breath kisses over my ear as he talks, intimate and secret. “But you forgot about the reflection in the window?”
A bubble of laughter breaks through my anxiety, and I peek over at him. “Remember when I found out you kiss like a sheepdog?”
His eyes narrow into thin slits. “I proved I didn’t.”
“Did you, though?” I needle him.
Finn stays right behind me while we order, like a bodyguard in case I need it, and then we make our way to a table. I take a seat and pull my warm coffee mug in front of me, cradling it between my hands like it’s a Drink Protection Wall guarding me against any devastating news he may present.
“How was your week?” he asks.
Everything I want to say pushes and shoves at the gates of my mind.
I missed you. You kissed me senseless, then haven’t called me in days. I don’t know what’s happening to my brain and my heart, but it wants to be around your brain and your heart constantly.
“Long,” I say, giving him the simplest, least revealing answer.
He adjusts his glasses. “Everything going okay with your week in charge?”
“I think so.” I nod and take a sip of my coffee, but it’s too hot, and I can practically hear my tongue sizzle.
An awkward silence hovers in the air between us. Screw this small talk. I need answers. But he doesn’t seem to know where to start. His hands cradle his coffee mug, and he stares into it like he might find the answers there.
Finally, he takes a deep breath and begins. “I want to apologize for the mood I was in on the way home from your parents’ house. There’s no excuse. I just didn’t know how to put into words what I was thinking, and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”
“You were in a pretty bad mood at the meeting too,” I remind him.
“Yeah,” he sighs, rubbing a palm over his beard. “I’m sorry.” There’s another stretch of silence. “When we were up on that overlook,” he starts, and my mind flashes back to that picture-perfect moment. To the stars over my head, his face between my legs. He smirks, probably seeing the blush heating my cheeks. “Thatwas fucking perfect. I’ve thought about it every day since.”
“Me too,” I whisper, unable to filter myself.
He bites his bottom lip and turns serious again. “But when your mom called, I felt guilty, like I was being irresponsible. Clara left the girls with me because she believed I would take care of them, and on the overlook, it felt like I’d chosen you over them. If something had gone wrong, I was with you, distracted.”
