“LiamRussell?” It’s a name I haven’t thought of in years—Sybil’s high school boyfriend who broke up with her the night of prom and then proposed before graduation. “That was a million years ago. Why would she go see him?”
“It’s just a hunch. I hope I’m wrong. He’s bad news.”
My mind races. I’d never liked Liam, but I hadn’t realizedthat things between him and Sybil were that bad. The worry etched around Finn’s eyes is real though.
“What happened with them?”
“That’s Sybil’s story to tell, Emma.” His words sound familiar, but I can’t place them. “I just have a hunch that she went to see him. He’s a personal trainer in Albuquerque now.”
“How do you know that?” I ask, pulling the tequila bottle back from Finn and taking another small sip. I know Finn still isn’t on any social media, because every now and then I check—just to see what he’s up to, just like I would with any old friend…
“He’s an incredibly active LinkedIn user,” Finn explains with a half smile. “A lot of multi-paragraph motivational posts.” I grimace, and Finn nods. “Yeah, it’s pretty cringey.”
I pass the bottle back to Finn and pull the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over my hands, balling them into fists for warmth. “I can’t believe she’s chasing down an old boyfriend two days before her wedding,” I say. “Honestly, I’d be a lot less surprised if she was trying to chase down Sebastian. That would at least make sense.”
“Maybe she just needs some closure.”
A breeze slips through the trees, and the susurration of pine needles slipping against each other fills the space between us. When I look up again, the cloud bank has moved with the wind, traveling westward. The vastness of the sky and forest settles on me, but it doesn’t overwhelm me. Tucked beside Finn in this hammock cocoon, I feel rooted and safe.
“You know, my dad lives out this way. Around Flagstaff.”
I don’t know why I bring this up. Maybe Finn’s talk of closure just now. That’s something I never got with Dad.
“Do you get to visit a lot?” Finn takes a sip of tequila and leans back in the hammock, wedging the bottle between us.
I lean back, too, and the hammock sways softly. “No. This is my first time in Arizona. It’s been”—I do the math in my head—“almost eight years since I’ve seen him. He came to Austin for a football game junior year, and we got breakfast. It was super awkward because I hadn’t really seen him for years before that—and I haven’t seen him since. He’s not a bad guy, he’s just like a nonentity.”
The silence from Finn is heavy.
“What?” I ask.
“I think leaving your family makes you an objectively bad guy.”
“Yeah, definitely in some ways.”
“I mean, I can understand a marriage not working out, but your kids are your kids. That’s not something you can walk away from.”
“And yet…” I let the sentence trail off, and reach for more tequila. “Do you want kids?”
“Not right now, but definitely someday. My dad and I had our differences, but there’s never been a minute of my life that I doubted how much he loved me. Everyone deserves that. At least one person to love you completely unconditionally. I don’t think you should have kids if you can’t be sure you can do that.”
“My mom is like that,” I say and then tip the bottle back.
“Good.”
His hand closes over mine, and he takes the tequila back for another pull. “I told you I got in a big fight in Austin when I was nineteen?”
“Mm-hmm.” I don’t know if it’s the tequila, the rocking ofthe hammock, or being this close to Finn, but I feel totally at peace right now.
“They booked me and took me down to the station. Those blue couches are burned into my brain. Even though my dad was dying, he drove down 35 and picked me up. It was a super-shitty drive home, but you can afford to make mistakes when you know you have a parent like that. I don’t know that my mom has ever fully forgiven me. He took a pretty bad turn a couple of weeks later, and just never got better.”
“Oh, Finn. I’m so sorry. It wasn’t your fault.”
He clears his throat. “Anyway. I think that if you can’t love a kid unconditionally like that, then you shouldn’t have one.”
“I don’t know if I love my dad unconditionally.” It feels good to get the words out of my body. I’ve never been this candid with anyone before. Not Willow, or Sybil, or Nikki. Not even Liz. The anxiety that normally curls around my neck eases up, and I take a deep breath of mountain air.
“It’s not a two-way street,” Finn says. “Parents have to love their kids. Kids get to choose if they love their parents.” He closes his eyes, and then, almost as if he’s talking to himself, he says, “But I don’t think romantic love always works like that. Sometimes, it’s just… inevitable.”
