Finley swivels her head and gives me an earnest look as she pushes the plunger into the press. “Alex, you know I don’t mind if you meet your friends. You probably want to catch up more.”
“We caught up last night,” I say, then add, “Besides, if I saw him again, I’d bring you with me.”
She looks surprised and her cheeks flush before she turns back to her task.
A knot forms in my stomach.
I still need to know where she slept last night. What does she think after I barged into the room, drunk off my ass? She doesn’t look mad, but maybe she’s keeping up appearances for Mom and Mallory. I want to pull her away and ask, but if she is mad, barging in on her baking won’t win me any points.
“I don’t know how you take your regular coffee,” Finley says, pouring steaming liquid into a red mug with a snowman grinning on the side. I’d prefer plain white porcelain, but I’ll deal with it.
Mallory stops stirring and gapes at Finley like she’s sprouted another head. “Wait. You don’t know how Alex takes his coffee?”
Finley freezes like she’s a cat burglar caught red-handed, so I blurt out, “I never have regular coffee when I’m with her. She always makes me an espresso drink.” Technically true.
“Ah, that makes sense,” Mallory says.
I slide off the stool. “I just take some creamer, but I can get it.”
Finley’s already by the fridge. She pulls out a bottle and a spoon, then hands them to me like it’s second nature. Like she belongs here.
I’m amazed that she’s so comfortable in my mom’s kitchen. None of my other girlfriends would have even considered baking with my mom and sister, let alone learning their way around. It does something to me, something I can’t name. It can’t be nostalgia—Finley’s never been here before yesterday. It feels like yearning, but for what? For her? For this? Either way, it makes no sense.
Finley turns away, but the need to know where she stands gnaws at me. “Are we still on to go to the Christmas market?”
She swivels back with a hesitant look. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still want to go.”
“Of course I want to go,” I insist. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Her expression makes it clear she doesn’t buy it. Honestly, after last night when I bailed on caroling, I wouldn’t believe me either. But strangely, I am looking forward to it. If you’d asked me to go last Christmas—or any past Christmas—I would have rather wrestled a wild pig and butchered it for dinner than set foot in the market. But with Finley? I want to see her reaction. Something inside me feels lighter when she’s happy.
“Okay,” she says slowly, holding my gaze like she’s trying to tell if I’m lying. “I’d love to go, but if you changed your mind, Mallory already said she’d take me.”
Mallory gives me the stink eye. She doesn’t believe I want to go either.
“Of course, I want to go. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well…after your late-night run,” Finley says carefully.
“Nope.” I stir creamer into my coffee. Hopefully, the caffeine will help with my hangover. “I’m great. Never better.” I glance over at my mother. “Mom, what time will you guys wrap this up?”
“We should be done by noon,” Mom says. “I plan to reheat the chili for lunch, then you two can head out.”
“Sounds good.”
I head upstairs with my coffee, still feeling off. Some of it’s my hangover, sure, but mostly it’s the image of Finley in my mom’s kitchen, buzzing around like she belongs there. It unsettles me more than I want to admit.
A long shower helps take the edge off my headache. When I get out, I dry off and redress the bandage on my knee. The cut’s deep and throbs, but it’s manageable. After I put on jeans and a sweater, I pull my laptop from my bag, sit on the edge of the bed, and check my email.
The first two are from investors. The other three are from Roland, and one is flagged urgent. I open that one first.
Dude, I’ve been trying to call you all morning. Where the hell are you?
- R
I pat my pocket and realize I haven’t seen my phone since I got up, which is highly unlike me. Where is it?
I search the nightstand, the bed, the floor, and sweatpants pocket and come up empty. Did Finley find it and plug it in? If she did, my phone’s not in here.
