“Come on, tell me,” he persisted.
Seeing the look in his eyes and knowing he wasn’t going to drop it, she finally continued. “Well, before I met you… I thought I might try to hang out and finally meet someone.”
“Oh.”
“But not now,” she continued. “Not now.”
The mood dampened, and a silence hung between them. Her plan wasn’t working at all. Instead of making them giddy, the alcohol was making them moody.
“There’s still something I’d like to show you,” Penelope said. The distance between them was growing. She needed a chance to rectify things.
“This way.” She turned, and he followed, neither of them reaching for the other. They were too caught up in their own thoughts. The sun was sinking lower as the evening faded away from them.
Making a point of sticking to the block they were on, Penelope continued past the old stately houses—the ones she had compared the Irish houses to when she’d arrived. These had once belonged to lumber barons back in the 1800s. Largewooden homes with ornate designs, bay windows, sprawling porches, and two stories that spoke of many guest rooms. It was a distraction, something to look at while she struggled to find her way back to their connection.
Eventually, Penelope turned right, heading towards their destination. Still racking her brain for the right words to say, she felt more than saw when Finn stopped dead in his tracks. “Whoa. That’s beautiful.”
It was the long catwalk most associated with her town. It stretched the length of the pier leading out to the bright red lighthouse at the end. The last of the setting sun shone on it, now also mingling with the glow of the light bulbs placed throughout the black iron of the catwalk.
“Isn’t it?” As many times as she’d seen this sight, Penelope still marveled at it. It seemed to capture the soul of her town—this walkway to the water. “Up for it?” She motioned with her head.
Finn’s hand finally moved to grab hers. “You sneak. You were saving this, weren’t you?”
She nodded, enjoying his delight.
Conversation still eluded them. But with her hand in his, she felt a tinge of the braveness she needed returning. This was Finn, she reminded herself, the man who had professed his love to her. The man who found her beautiful.
Once on the pier, he was able to see the full expanse that was Lake Michigan. The waves came in, dancing lightly across the water, the sound a reassuring normality to both of them.
“I never knew a lake could be so big. It looks like the ocean.”
“Well, it is a great lake,” she said, her pride coming through.
“But there’s no smell. Not like the sea.”
“There is, but much fainter.” They continued until they were past the beach, surrounded by water on either side, under the lights of the catwalk.
If Finn had his haunted cemetery to show her, she had this. Although, there was one difference. “To be honest, I’ve never been out here at night,” she admitted.
“No?”
“I never had anyone to bring.” She couldn’t hide the wistfulness in her tone.
“Never brought Carson?”
The hint of anger in his voice confused her more than the question. He dropped her hand, taking a step back.
“What? No. Why would I—why would you think…?”
It was still bright enough for her to see him, to see the intensity in his look.
“Finn, what’s going on? What are you talking about?” She wanted desperately to close the space between them but sensed that wouldn’t help.
“I saw him kiss you.”
With that, the worst of her fears were confirmed.
“There was a moment there,” he continued, eyes now on the dark shadow of the water, “you could have pulled away. But you didn’t.”
