‘Well …’ She smoothed her palms down her thighs. ‘I’d better go.’
She stood then, and he made a move to follow but she waved him back. ‘Don’t,’ she murmured. She didn’t want some sappy hotel doorway departure scene—she’d rather remember him like this, all rumpled and sexy with bed hair. ‘Stay. Go back to sleep for a bit. You didn’t get much last night.’
Neither of them had.
He looked as if he might protest but stopped and smiled as he reached for her hand and she slid it into his. ‘Bon voyage,’ he murmured.
‘Thank you. Have a great day with the kids. I’m so glad I got to be the Banshees official photographer.’
‘And I’m glad if I had to be fake engaged to anyone, it was you, Sweeney Bailey.’
The ache in Sweeney’s chest intensified. ‘Ditto.’
‘I’ll send you an invite on WhatsApp so we can chat.’
She nodded, even though part of her thought it might be best if they cut off contact for a while. But it wasFin. Of course she was going to chat with him. ‘I’ll look for it.’
He let her hand go and Sweeney squared her shoulders. That was her cue. ‘Goodbye,’ she murmured.
Fin shook his head. ‘Not goodbye. See you later.’
A ball of emotion lodged in her throat. She hoped shewouldsee him later at some point and that what had happened last night and over the past four weeks hadn’t screwed things between them forever. Turning on her heel, she strode to the door, shoved her toiletry bag in her hold-all, grabbed the handle of her case, opened the door and stepped out of the room.
Absently, she rubbed at the ache in her chest that only seemed to intensify the more steps she put between her and Fin. Was this indigestion, anxiety or a heart attack?
Or was this just how it felt to lose your best friend?
Twenty-Nine
Fin looked at the Claddagh ring in his palm as the plane levelled out. It was dull under the dimmed cabin lights but its symbolism was as shiny as ever. The seat next to him was empty because Sweeney should have been sitting in it. The space yawned like a chasm between him and the person sitting on the aisle.
Which is kind of how it felt inside right now. A gnawing, yawning empty.
Everyone had been surprised when they’d learned about Sweeney’s early departure and had wanted to talk to him about it all fucking day even though they’d known she was waiting for the green light from her boss to go to Indonesia.
He’d been trying not to think about it.
Trying not to think about how badly the big empty pit in his stomach ached. How much worse it felt than any split he’d had with a woman. Which was crazy because he and Sweeney were fake.
Pretend.She’d said it herself.
The thing was, it hadn’tfeltpretend, and Fin didn’t think she’d really thought that either. The care and comfort of each other certainly hadn’t because there’d always been that and those moments had felt as genuine as always. But there’d been an extrasomethingduring their interactions since this whole farce had begun, a connection that had felt different to friendship.
And it was that connection that had pushed them into each other’s arms. Forever altering their relationship.
The terrible panicky sensation he’d been pushing down all day floated to the top again. What would become of them now they’d seen each other naked? Now he’d been inside her. Now she’d wrapped herself around him and whisperedyes, yes, yesin his ear as he came his brains out.
Because he didn’t want to lose her from his life.
And yet, he knew, it could never go back to the way it was before last night. They’d let the genie out of the bottle on that one.
Behind him, he could just hear the chatter of kids over the white noise of the cabin. They’d had a truly amazing experience and had much to tell their friends when they got back to school on Tuesday, but they were going to sleep well tonight when they finally got into their own beds.
So would the adults!
Their voices, their accents, were so familiar and he found himself smiling. He’dmissedthe Aussie twang. The Irish brogue—so very,verydifferent—was endlessly fascinating, but hearing a cacophony of kids over the course of the weekend—shortening words and lengthening their vowels and ending their sentences withbutor giving it that little lift at the end that made it sound like a question even when it wasn’t—had been like music to his ears.
Music that was embedded in his DNA.
