“You didn’t. And you had to be at work early this morning. Long day?”
“I confronted Marlon.”
“Oh.” I put my messenger bag on the island and removed my coat. “Can I take your jacket?”
“Uh, sure.” He removed it. Finally, he met my gaze. “Marlon said some things about you.”
“Oh.” I hung our coats in the front hall closet. “Do I want to know?”
“A bunch of shit—about what happened in Vancouver.” He scratched his chin. “I don’t know if he was pulling shit out of his ass or if there’s more going on than what you’ve told me.”
“Oh.” I moved toward the fridge. “Would you like a drink? You look exhausted, and I don’t want to give you caffeine if that’ll knock your schedule off.”
“Diet cola’s fine. That amount of caffeine will be okay. I don’t want to nod off.”
“If you’re tired, feel free to crash. What do you want for dinner?”Because I’m just going to act like nothing’s wrong. Fucking Marlon.In truth, I didn’t know what Finn was trying to say—but pushing felt like the wrong move. Better to let him come to me.
“I’m easy. Whatever’s quickest.”
“Usually pizza. Although I can run to the taco place. That takes, like, five minutes.”
“I don’t want to go out.”
“Right. I’ll go—”
“I don’t want you going out.”
“Okay. So, pizza?”
He nodded. Then rubbed his face.
I yanked out my phone and, since I knew what we both wanted, ordered two large pies. Leftovers were a good thing—he could take them for lunch tomorrow. “Thirty minutes.”
“Huh? Oh, thanks.”
“Are you okay?”
He held my gaze—those stunning blue eyes assessing me. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened in Vancouver.”
I opened the fridge, grabbed two diet colas, and closed the door. I handed him one, then gestured toward the living room.
He toed off his boots, then headed to the couch.
I removed my shoes and followed him.
Night had fallen, and all the city lights twinkled in the distance.
A train whistle sounded—likely the commuter train bringing weary workers home from Vancouver after a long workday.
I cracked my can open and then sat on the couch. Near Finn—but not touching. Not because I didn’t want to—because I certainly did. No, that wasn’t it. He was holding himself apart, and I had to respect that. Obviously, Marlon had said something and Finn was trying to work things out in his mind. A man conflicted.
That, I understood.
I sighed. Then sipped. Finally, I considered. “It’s both a long and short story.”
Finn cocked his head.
“Well, I graduated from the University of British Columbia with a journalism degree almost twenty years ago.”
