I’d like to say I feel nothing for him at all. That seeing him sitting there smiling, laughing, his square jaw covered in stubble, his sandy blond hair, a little longer than I remember, falling into his dark-blue eyes, does absolutely nothing to me. But the truth is, my heart stirs. My stupid heart fucking stirs like it’s about to make a nice warm batch of biscuits.
He’s wearing the leather coat he had on the last time I saw him. The coat he wore all the time when we were together, and apparently still wears like nothing has changed, the shoulders starting to crack; the only clue any time has passed.
But as soon as the tiny trickle of tenderness seeps in, it’s quickly replaced by shame and anger. I shouldn’t still have any warmth for him. It’s been a long time. It’s true I was in love with him for years, but since we broke up, it has been radio silence. He didn’t even call when my mother died.
And what about Miles? But it isn’t serious with Miles, right? Casual. Physical. A fling. Sooner than I can fathom, he’ll be back on a plane to America. Bile fills my mouth at this thought. I swallow it back uncomfortably.
Now Finn is sitting here in my town, like nothing happened, like no time has passed, accusing me of being mad. Well, I am now.
“What are you doing here, Finn?”
Kate laughs, but quickly turns it into a cough and covers her mouth. “Pardon. Still getting over this nasty cold.”
“That’s some welcome.” Finn stands and pulls me into a hug.
My body goes stiff. Any remaining feelings my brain may have had for this man, my body does not share. He even smells different than before. It’s minty with a hint of clove. Not a good combination. I pull away.
“You haven’t said what ye are doing in town after all these years, Finn,” Kate says, still clacking away at her knitting.
“Visiting my ma. Christmas is right around the corner, isn’t it? Thought I’d stay for the holidays at the very least.”
I do some mental math. It is only the twenty-ninth of November, so Finn is going to be in town for probably a month, maybe more. I shouldn’t be that surprised, but in all this time, he hasn’t been back. His parents always visit him since his sister is also in America, somewhere in Vermont, last I heard.
Finn scoots one of the other armchairs close to his and pats the cushion, sending small dust particles flying. “Sit. Tell me all about your life. Let me buy you a pint.”
I look at my watch. “It’s barely ten in the morning.”
“Ahh, since when has that bothered us?”
Margie joins us, giving me a weary look.
“Can I have some coffee, Margie?”
“I’ll have some too, with a wee bit of the Irish,” Finn says with a wink.
Margie asks Kate. “Anything for you, dear?”
Kate is winding her project around her needles. “No, I have to head out. That yarn won’t sell itself.”
“Aye, but it could, right? If you got one of those fancy self-checkouts. They’re all over America,” Finn is saying as Kate gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” I whisper.
“I have to work. Call me later.”
Margie brings over our drinks.
“Thanks, love,” Finn says.
“It’s good to see you’re well, Finn,” Margie says before heading back to the bar, icier than I’ve heard from her in a long time.
We sip our drinks and stare into the fire. Margie, bless her, put actual coffee in mine this time. I’m in no mood for making chit chat with this man who’s seen me naked, a man I thought I was going to marry.
“What’s new?”
I shrug. “Same old, same old.”
“How’s your da?”
