Page 22 of Cabin Fever

“Wait for it—there. The way he catches the tape measure??” Marisol leans back, eyes rolling into her head.

The pencil behind his ear is a flat carpenter's pencil, chewed at the end, tucked at that lazy angle. It reminds me of Finn’s dad on a Saturday fixing the gate between our yards while Finn handed him nails.

And there's a scar on his left forearm that flashes when he braces a beam, a thin white seam, and I was there when that happened. Bike ramp. The plywood with the nail sticking out. I'm the one who ran for his mom. I got blood on the shorts my mom got me for my birthday.

“That's it,” Sadie announces. “I'm buying a fixer-upper in Denver.”

“You live in Tampa.” Marisol laughs.

“Oh, I’m aware. But I do work remote . . .” She waggles her eyebrows, and they all laugh. “I'll buy a condemned Victorian and say, 'Finn, it all has to go, take your tiiiiime.'”

“Theo told me he’s got almost a year-long wait list,” Dahlia says.

I hide behind my sunglasses as they chatter on, memorizing the handle at the top of the screen.

@builtbygallagher.

I don’t reach for my own phone. That’s going to be burned into my brain for eternity, ready to pop up the next time I’m alone in my bedroom at night.

Damn it. I have it bad. I’m still so far gone for Finn Gallagher that I can’t see straight.

How did this happen? How was I so unwilling to see it? Looking back, the signs were obvious. How I bristled every time Dahlia or Theo brought him up. How my body reacted anytime I saw him.

I’m shoving muffin in my face when Sadie swivels. “Wait. WAIT. You guys grew up with him. I want stories.”

Dahlia shrugs, adjusting her cap. “Ask Harper. She knew him best.”

“Well, we both⁠—“

“What was teenage Finn like?” Marisol abandons her phone. “Tell me he peaked late. Tell me he had an awkward year.”

“Did you ever kiss him?” Priya asks.

“Uh, no.” I clear my throat. “He cried at the end of Homeward Bound?” I say it like a question, hoping that detail will satiate them.

Dahlia laughs. “We all cried. Ooh!” She straightens, criss-crossing her legs. “He used to mow his lawn shirtless.”

Sadie faux faints.

Even though Dahlia sent them my way, she can’t help herself now. She regales them with stories of Finn, and each of them is like a fondue fork straight to my heart.

“ . . . No! That’s exactly it! Finn flirts with everyone so you can't tell who he actually likes,” Dahlia says. She reaches for her spray mist as Priya's book comes down one more inch. Her eyes find mine over the top of it, and I scour the pool like I’m being paid to lifeguard.

“Anyway.” I need a subject change, so I go for two birds. “Hey, did you and Theo land on a honeymoon? Since the mini-moon debate.”

“Mini-moon won.” Dahlia mists herself like a houseplant. “Three days in Miami when we get back. We're not even flying anywhere. Theo's got so much work.”

“Right.” I inspect the last bite of my muffin. “Work's good, though? The firm's busy?”

“Harp.” She tips her sunglasses down and looks at me over them. “You’re as bad as Theo. It's wedding week. If you start talking work right now, I will push you into this pool with all the love in my heart.” Sunglasses back up. “Now be useful and rate Sadie's chances with Finn.”

“What!?” Sadie laughs out loud.

“Zero chance,” Marisol crosses her legs and leans in. “Because I’ve got dibs.”

The conversation revs back up, and I sink into the background.

Theo and Dahlia aren’t going on a honeymoon? That’s the least Dahlia thing I’ve ever heard. When I asked her about it at home, she said they couldn’t book anything because of Theo’s work, which could be true.