Page 31

Graham

Finn the philanderer.

The boys laughed at the messages, and while Finn knew they were kidding, a twinge of discomfort wedged its way into his heart.

He’d always been labeled a flirt—ever since his early expulsion from Eton at thirteen due to “fraternizing” with girls, up to now, with his friends knowing he never took any relationship past the first few dates.

While Finn enjoyed flirting as much as the next person, he didn’t see himself as a womanizer. He’d left school for reasons other than girls, and he didn’t have long-lasting relationships because he’d never met a woman he wanted to marry. One day, he wanted to create a family of his own, but he was too occupied with helping the family he already had.

In the end, it was just easier to lean into the “Finn the Flirt” moniker. Still, sometimes, it unsettled him being so misunderstood.

Finn

You boys know me too well. But who knows? One day, I might just change my ways. For the right girl.

Once again, Maisie’s smile flashed in his mind. He tried to blink it away, but the image was like a bright light in the darkness, impossible to ignore and emblazoned in his memory forever.

No matter what he did, he couldn’t shake the thought of the woman. It was like she’d cast a spell on him, what with how often he thought of her and how often he’d imagined seeing her that morning.

Only, it was never her. How could it be? If she hadn’t arrived for the ferry by now, she was most definitely on her way back to Boston. Unless, of course, she was just running late that morning. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Matthew

Have you ever met the “right” girl?

Graham

He’s too picky to do that.

Cedric

No, he’s not too picky. He just can’t settle on one girl. I’d sooner bet on Matthew winning the race than Finn ever settling down.

Finn lowered his phone. He could absolutely see himself settling down with just one girl. If they fell in love, had the same goals, the same desires.

If she was blonde and American…

He shook the thought from his mind, but as his eyes shifted to the side, he saw Maisie—or a ghost of her—again.

But the real Maisie was gone. She wasn’t…

Boys a dear, that woman looked like her. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the glimpse he caught of the woman as she weaved her way through the crowds on the street, headed directly for him.

Long dress, long hair. Stark white shoes. When her gaze settled on him, her smile finally spoke the truth.

It was her.

His heartbeat quickened, as if he was already on that charity run with his mates. He may as well have been, his breaths coming in short and quick.

She walked straight up to him, appearing just as pleased to see him as he was to see her.

“You’re here,” he said.

She gave him a look of confusion. “Am I not supposed to be?”

“I heard your aunt say last night that you had to go back to Boston.”

“Oh,” she said, realization lighting her eyes, “yeah. Well, she had to go back for some investor-related stuff, so she told me to stay here to continue my research.” She hesitated, clearly wondering at his surprised reaction. “I hope that’s okay.”