Page 93 of Hard to Love

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It’s just a sound.” He sighs and turns on his side so that we’re face to face. Butterflies take flight in my stomach even after being with him for almost eighteen months.

Yes, I count.

Every day is another I get with him. Each month something I’m grateful for.

Our eyes meet and there’s something in his. Something I can’t decipher.

“Now, you’re staring at me,” I whisper and reach out to put my hand on his heart and tap three times. His smile is as soft as his sigh. “Are you okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Mm-hmm? Can we do better than that?” I ask. He’s been off. And off not in the sense that he’s Finn and he’s always doing a hundred things, but off in the fact that he’s been distant, and I don’t know how to reel him back in.

A flash of a smile. His hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. A glimpse of the old Finn.

“I’ve been busy negotiating a contract,” he says. “It’s been a tough one to figure out all the angles and caveats. I’m not certain my client will accept it.”

I startle. I had no idea he had something big going on. And then I breathe a sigh of relief because that means this distance I’ve felt is not because something is wrong with us, but rather he’s just stressed over work.

I exhale a soft sigh of relief. “Want to talk about it?”

He shrugs, his fingers tracing up and down the length of my arm. “It’s a lifetime contract that—”

“Wow!” Now I definitely want to ask who it is, but we agreed a long time ago that I can’t ask specifics when it comes to his clients and their negotiations.

“I know. So it’s a big deal that I make sure all the terms are right.”

“I’m assuming it’s an endorsement deal?” Nike or the like as a lifetime deal is few and far between, but Finn has clients who are worthy of them.

“More like a partnership of sorts.”

“Okay.” I draw the word out. “That’s even rarer.”

“I know, so you can see why I’ve been stressing over it.”

“I would be too. No wonder you’ve been lost in thought more times than not.”

He gives me that half-smile again that melts my heart. “I’m sorry.” He brings my hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to my palm. “I didn’t mean to be preoccupied or ignore you.” That half-smile lights up the room in the best way possible. “Forgive me?”

“Of course. Always.” Forever. “What is troubling you?”

“The terms.”

“What about them?”

“I want to get them right. How the two parties deal when one of them is unhappy since that is bound to happen.”

“Naturally.”

“Or what happens if she—”

“She?” I ask, surprised by his slip, when he’s normally so guarded.

He scrunches his nose in the most adorable way. “Yes, she.”

“What else?”