Finley is different afterthe dinner with Charlie. I don’t know what it is, but she seems more reserved. A small part of me worries that it has nothing to do with Charlie and has more to do with Gus and Eloise—now that they’re officially married and our pretend relationship could come to an end. But when we saw them in town a few days later, purchasing last-minute things for their move, she seemed happy. She smiled and even asked them how married life was treating them. But then, later that night when I brought up the trip to Maine and told her I was going to buy our tickets if she thought she could close the shop for the long weekend, she clammed up. Said she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to take the time off, so I only bought one ticket, told her I’d get another later if she changed her mind.
But it’s been two weeks, and she hasn’t. And every day I get closer to leaving her, even if only for a long weekend, the ache in my chest gets more severe. The trip is in two days, and I’m spending one of them on a twenty-four-hour shift.
I’ve been locked in the dorms for the last couple of hours, wishing for a call to keep me busy, but none have come in. Myhead feels like it’s about to explode, so I finally push myself off the hard twin bed and head out into the living area. Jacob is once again in his recliner, flipping channels on the TV. I’m not sure where everyone else is, but I’m glad they’re not here, because I don’t have small talk in me right now.
I sink down into the recliner next to Jacob’s, fruitlessly checking my phone again to see if Finley has texted or called. But it’s blank. I rub at the spot on my chest that feels like it’s been perpetually aching for the last two weeks.
Jacob casts his eyes in my direction, not even bothering to turn fully. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” I say, but even to my own ears, it sounds like a lie.
He snorts, turns the volume down on the TV. “Yeah, okay. You’ve been weird for weeks.”
I’m tired of wearing my emotions like a glittering tie-dye cape around my shoulders, so flamboyant that people can’t help but look. Sighing, I say, “Things have been weird with Finley. Again. I thought we were good.”
Thingsweregood. Things were better than good. It felt like every single one of my dreams was coming true right before my eyes. It’s so good that I felt like I had to hold on for dear life so it wouldn’t slip away. But something has changed. Now she’s pulling away, and I don’t know why.
“Did you tell her about Maine?”
“Yes,” I say, but then realize I didn’t really. “Well, technically, Charlie did. But I told her about it later.” I can still feel the sting of embarrassment, the tender spot of vulnerability as I told her that I was staying for her. I’d almost told her I love her.
And she’s been retreating since then, pulling back faster than I can manage to hold her closer.
Jacob lifts a brow. “Is she mad?”
“I don’t think so,” I respond, shaking my head. I know her, and she’s never had a hard time telling me when she’s angryor annoyed with me. But she is keeping something close to her chest, and it’s killing me that she won’t share it with me.
He looks at me like I’m an idiot, but I know I’m right. She would tell me if it was something as simple as being mad at me.
“Did you and Amelia ever…” I trail off, not sure what I’m wanting to ask. But I’m just now realizing that I do want to ask him something. That I’m tired of holding people at arm’s length. Finley was right when she said that I’m friendly with everyone, that I try to make everyone feel at ease, but I’ve barely let anyone close enough to knowme. That I’ve hardly tried to really get to know anyone, even the people I spend major chunks of my week with.
“Did we ever what?” Jacob asks, brow arched again.
I clear my throat and my mind. “Did you ever hit a rough patch?”
I don’t know if that’s what’s going on with Finley and me, or if I’m reading into things, letting my insecurities get in the way, but I need to know if this is normal. If we’re going to be okay. If I can get the kind of happily ever after that Holden and Wren, and Jacob and Amelia, and Charlie and Brenda have.
His eyes soften, and he shifts in his recliner to face me more fully. “Of course we had rough patches. Westillhave rough patches. I told you that the complicated relationships are the only ones worth having, because they’re the only ones that are real. Committing your life to someone means learning to love all the versions of them over time. The Finley you fell in love with years ago isn’t the same person she is now. She’s changed, and you have too. You have to keep learning to love each other through it.”
My brow furrows. “How do you know I’ve loved her for years?”
Jacob rolls his eyes, shifting to face the TV and turning the volume up once more. “Anyone can see that, Grey.”
I feel like I’m about to come out of my skin when I’m finally off my shift. Things ended up picking up shortly after my conversation with Jacob, and we had almost nonstop calls the rest of the night. I should be exhausted. I am exhausted, but I want to see Finley. I want to spend the day with her before I leave her for four days.
Which is how I find myself knocking on her door at eight fifteen, fifteen minutes before she usually heads down to the shop. When the door swings open, Finley looks surprised to see me. The look is followed by a pleased grin that makes my knees buckle. That, though, is swiftly followed by shutters falling down over her eyes. So many emotions in such a short time that it feels like I have vertigo just watching them play out on her face.
“Hey,” I say. It sounds a little desperate, like the first breath of air after being underwater for too long.
She backs up into her apartment, holding open the door for me. She’s got one earring in and only half the buttons on her linen shirt are buttoned. She looks pleasantly disheveled, and it makes something in my chest tighten. Warmth and desire and wanting and something unnamable.
She barely spares me another glance as she dashes into her bedroom and digs around in her closet. I follow the noise, just wanting to see her, even if we don’t talk. Being with her calms something inside me that always feels like it’s buzzing, anxious, fraying.
“Did you just finish your shift?” she finally asks when I come into the bedroom, leaning on her doorframe. She’s got one foot digging into a white sneaker while she searches the depths of her closet for the other one, a clean white sock between her teeth.
“Mm-hmm.” Despite the weirdness between us over the last few weeks, I can’t help but smile as I watch her, heart tugging so painfully in my chest that I think it’s going to break through the skin.
She casts her eyes over her shoulder and pulls the sock from between her teeth. “Just wanted to see me?” There’s a smile on her lips. It’s familiar enough that I want to believe that the tension bubbling between us for weeks has all been in my head. I want to ignore it. I want to not say what I came here to say.
