What she actually felt was a lot more—multiple times.
Chapter 19
As much as Penelope wished she could slow time down, it continued slipping by. She regretted the hours spent sleeping, as much as she knew it was necessary. She warred with herself over how to spend their last full day there, wanting every precious moment alone with Finn while also wanting her parents to get to know him better. In the end, she bargained for spending the afternoon with them before getting him to herself in the evening, firmly turning down her mother’s offer to make dinner.
Plans somewhat made, Penelope placed her phone on the bedside table, turning back to what she thought was a sleeping Finn, only to find him lazily watching her.
“What’s up?” His hand reached out to rest on her thigh as he suppressed a yawn.
“We’re having lunch with my parents.” She looked at him inquiringly, confirming this was okay.
“Not breakfast? I was sure Martha was going to make me American-style pancakes.”
Squirming down further into the bed from her seated position, Penelope snuggled into his arms.
“Oh, she offered. She also offered lunch, snacks, and dinner. And my mom’s not even that into cooking,” she laughed into his chest, enjoying the morning smell of Finn.
“And you would deny me all that?” He adjusted himself to make her more comfortable.
“She can have you for the afternoon. That’s it. The rest of the time, you’re mine,” she growled possessively.
“I think I’m okay with that.”
They ventured out for coffee at a café. Then, they strolled slowly by the water. Finn was able to see not just the sailboats but the fancy yachts that also docked along the pier. He was fascinated by the number of ice cream shops but more so by the splash pad.
“And to think, we only have rain.”
Penelope refused to think past that day, sighing contentedly repeatedly. Things had been restored between them. Everything felt right. She didn’t know their future, but she allowed herself to be hopeful.
“I thought I might show you my classroom if you’re interested,” she offered shyly, as afternoon approached.
“What? That’s possible. Of course, I want to see it!”
Finn’s enthusiasm brought such a warmth inside her that she felt like she was glowing.
“Cool. The school’s not far from my parents’ house. They’re going to meet us there and bring my key card to get in. Then we’ll go back to the house for lunch. Sound good?”
“Sounds perfect,” he agreed readily.
Happily, none of her co-workers were around. As much as she would have loved to show Finn off, she didn’t want to waste time on idle chit-chat. Even without other people, the process was taking longer than expected because Finn found almost everything about her school fascinating, from the office to the halls to the library.
“Seriously, we’re never going to make it to my classroom,” Penelope complained as her mother steered him into the art room, reliving her own teaching years.
“Patience, Penelope,” her dad chided gently. “Your mother hasn’t enjoyed herself this much in a while.”
Side glancing at him, even as she kept an eye on Finn, she caught him smiling down at her.
“I noticed that’s what he calls you. What you seem to want to be called.”
“Not necessarily from you.” Penelope felt a shift. A letting go that shouldn’t have been so surprising at the age of twenty-five, yet somehow stung.
“Oh, you’ll always be my Penny-pops,” he said, placing a companionable arm around her shoulder. “But it looks like you’re his Penelope.”
If she was looking for signs of approval from her parents, this was it. Her mom had obviously been won over hook, line, and sinker, while her dad had held back. She could tell he liked Finn right away. However, he wasn’t as gung-ho about trusting him with his little girl. Penelope had seen the way he watched him, judging his character, listening to his responses. It seemed he, too, had finally been sold.
“The Irish charm,” Penelope reiterated as they both watched Finn follow her mom around the room, listening to all her stories.
“Oh, no, it isn’t that. I’m a middle school principal. I don’t fall that easily for that kind of stuff,” he puffed out his chest comically as he spoke. Then let it deflate again. “No. It’s how he treats you. It’s how he looks at you and how he listens. He’s a good man.”
