“There will be,” I assure her. I know this because after booking our table at the restaurant, I called the front desk and reserved the two best seats.
Walking into the great room is an enchanting experience. There are love seats and overstuffed chairs all around, creating intimate gathering spots. There’s only one chandelier here and it’s positively enormous. The flickering lights reflect around the room like a thousand fireflies in the sky, making it feel like you’ve walked into an enchanted forest.
The far wall consists of a giant vaulted picture window that looks out into the woods. There are several torches burning outside for effect. On the opposite end of the room is a giantstone fireplace that looks big enough to walk into. There are eight rocking chairs situated opposite it. Two of them are empty except for the “reserved” signs hanging over their backs.
“You’ve thought of everything,” Finley says, looking enormously contented.
There’s something about her that makes me want to impress her. In the past I’ve dated women who are nonchalant about everything. They act like they’re bored because they’ve already done everything there is to do. Finley is refreshingly nothing like that.
“I wanted tonight to be special,” I tell her while removing the signs.
As we sit down, she says, “I don’t think I’ll ever go on a date this good again.”
“I feel like you’ve just issued a challenge,” I tell her. She stares at me wide-eyed, so I tell her, “I don’t want this to be your best date ever. I want you to go on much, much better ones.”
Her eyes turn sad. “I’m guessing that’s not going to happen. But even if no one ever treats me this nicely again, I will always remember what you did for me.”
My heart physically aches at hearing this. “It sounds like you’re saying you’re not going to go out with me again.”
Finley stares at me for the longest time before saying, “I’ll go out with you again. I just don’t know how many more times after that.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think I’m enough to keep you in Elk Lake, Thomas. And when you go back to New York, I don’t want you to break my heart.”
I don’t really know how to respond to that. I can’t assure her I’m not going to leave. If my work situation doesn’t get better, I won’t be happy in my career. Yet I’m enjoying getting to knowFinley so much that I’m starting to wonder if I could ever walk away from her.
“One date at a time,” I remind her. Then I take her hand in mine and give it a squeeze. “Let’s just enjoy each moment as it comes.”
“I’ll try,” she tells me.
But something in her tone makes me nervous.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
FINLEY
Thomas makes me feel like a heroine in a movie, like I’ve stepped into a romance so fabulous only a screenwriter could create it.
After he dropped me off last night, he walked me up to my apartment and gave me another toe-curling kiss that made me want to succumb to the fantasy of “what if.” What if he stays in Elk Lake? What if we go on thirty more dates and fall in love? What if he asks me to marry him? What if we live happily-ever-after?
The problem with the “what if” game is that when you allow yourself to ask all the enticing questions, their counterparts always show up. What if Thomas leaves Elk Lake? What if he breaks my heart? What if I never meet another man who is as good, kind, and caring as he is? What if I die alone and miserable with nothing more than my memories to haunt me?
Even though Thomas and I have only officially been on one date, we’ve had three meals together and spent many hours shooting in my studio. While some people may think we barelyknow each other, I feel like I’ve known him for years. I know some of this has to do with my inability to accurately mark time, but I’m convinced most of it has to do with the quality of our connection.
I roll over in bed and throw a pillow over my head. Relishing the cool silk on my skin, I try to formulate a plan for how to date Thomas without letting myself fall for him. I mull this over for a very long time, but can’t seem to figure out how to protect myself from heartache.
I’m tempted to call Allie and talk to her about it, but I’m afraid she’ll tell me what she thinks I want to hear, which is, “Of course Thomas is going to stay and you’re going to live happily-ever-after!”
I don’t need anyone to blow smoke up my skirt. That’s one of my mom’s favorite sayings. She says it means to tell someone what they want to hear. On impulse, I pick up the phone and call her. “Hellooo, Finny!” She’s always so happy to hear from me.
“Hey, Mom,” I say glumly.
“You sound rough.” Pulling no punches, she asks, “Was the date that bad?”
“Not bad. Good. Very good.”
“Oooooh, is he still there?”
