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Finn smiled, his eyes shining as mischievously as ever as he tucked his hands into his pants’ pockets and took a step toward her. “I am. But by the sounds of it, maybe I shouldn’t be?”

Maisie shook her head mutely. What had she been saying about him? That whatever was between them would have fizzled out by now? She wanted to laugh out loud at her stupidity. Now, with him in Boston of all places, she knew the truth.

None of her feelings had faded away—they burned brighter than even before.

Finn’s eyes flicked behind Maisie’s shoulder toward Daphne, then toward Maisie’s parents. Maisie followed his gaze, seeing each of them smiling at Finn, none of them appearing surprised in the slightest.

“What am I missing?” she asked, glancing between them all. “Mom? Dad?”

Mom grinned. “We met him earlier, Maisie. He contacted us through Instagram and asked if we could facilitate a way to surprise you.”

“We had to make sure he wasn’t crazy first,” Dad piped in. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

He gave Finn a look as if to say, “I’m watching you,” to which Finn replied with a somewhat less than confident smile, and Maisie marveled again.

Was this really happening?

She glanced over her shoulder at Daphne, the smile on her lips telling Maisie that she’d been in on the ruse, too.

“Go chase your dream, hon,” she whispered. “We’re all here to support you.”

Maisie couldn’t believe it. They all knew…they all knew Finn had been coming there.

That Finn was here.

She looked back at him, his eyes still on her, and she was only vaguely aware of her parents and aunt leading the construction workers from the room, leaving Finn and Maisie alone.

“So what was that I heard you say?” Finn asked, drawing a few steps toward her, hands still in his pockets as he watched her with narrowed eyes. “Somethin’ ’bout fizzlin’ feelings?”

Maisie didn’t even bother coming up with a quippy response. “Yeah, that wasn’t true.”

He beamed. “Boys a dear, I’m glad to hear that.”

He stopped a few paces in front of her, casting his eyes around the space. “So this is your restaurant, is it? Lovely place.”

She smiled.

“Could do with a wee wall or two, though,” he continued, staring at the exposed framing to the side of them.

“Oh, that’s what we’re missing,” she said, her shock slightly fading away enough for her to tease back.

He smiled, then walked forward, resting his hand on one of the model chairs they had out for color decisions. He wiggled it a little bit, and the chair rocked back and forth before the leg below it collapsed, and the entire chair fell to pieces.

He stared at it in shock. “Maybe spend some quid on creatin’ sturdier chairs, like.”

Maisie laughed. “Finn, what are you doing here? Other than tearing our restaurant apart before it even opens?”

He grinned, sidestepping the pieces of wood. “I’ll fix that later,” he mumbled. Then he faced her again. “Frankly, I’ve come to do somethin’ I should’ve done last week.”

“Which was?” she asked, doing her best to stay calm.

“I’m here…” he began, his eyes fixed on her, “to ask you if you want to go out on a proper date.”

Maisie stared, then laughed. “You know, you could’ve asked me that over the phone.”

“Ach, aye, I could’ve. But this way is far more romantic, isn’t it?”

She couldn’t even begin to describe how much more romantic it was. But there was still something niggling at her conscience. “What about your family? Your job?”