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I turn back to the window.
“They’re going to picture us.”
“What?”
“When we walk in. They’re going to know and start thinking back to the times when I didn’t arrive with the band, or when I said I had something to do in town or—”
“Foster Crue.”
“I’m just saying. Ten years of imagery is going to be flipping through your mother’s head.”
“Please stop.”
“They’re going to remember every time I stayed the night in the guestroom and know I was probably wishing I was with you across town.”
Finn is laughing again, but now it’s a slightly pained laugh.
“You have to stop.”
“I am simply preparing you.”
“For what?”
“For the fact that your mother is going to look at me and know.”
“Well, my mother is smart, and you have been wearing my scarf since Thanksgiving.” He grins at the road.
“I’m going to be sick,” I mutter.
“You are being ridiculous.” He squeezes my thigh again. “Foster, look at me.”
I turn my head.
“We hid this for ten years because we made that choice. Together. They’ll get used to it. And besides, with Bastian and Taylen getting together, we’re not even the most exciting news of this Christmas season.”
“I hope you’re right about that.”
He turns onto the farm road.
The farmhouse comes into view around the bend. All the windows are lit up, and smoke rises from the chimney.
I take a deep breath.
Finn parks and kills the engine. Then he turns in his seat and looks at me.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“You’ve got this.”
Finn leans across the console and kisses me, and it steadies me a little more than I want to admit.
Then he opens his door and gets out.
