After Alba drives Finn and I back to the bed and breakfast, she stops us before we start heading back to our cabins.
Hang on you two, she says, I have a favour to ask.
What’s up, Albs?
Well, she starts, glancing between Finn and I, I’ve been thinking it would be a good idea if my dad stayed at one of the cottages tonight and tomorrow night. He’s been a stubborn ass about wanting to stay at his own place, but I’ve finally worn him down.
She pauses, seeing the look of confusion on our faces, and I can tell she’s fighting to keep a smirk off her face.
I’m down a cabin, she explains. But I figured since you two are together now, it shouldn’t be a problem if you shared a room. Her eyes tell me everything—she knows there’s something here that she can’t quite put her finger on, and now she’s finally calling our bluff.
Obviously tonight, Vi, you’ll be over at my place with Flora. Florence wanted to follow the tradition of spending the night before the wedding apart, so it’s another girls-only sleepover tonight. But tomorrow I’m wondering if you two wouldn’t mind shacking up.
I feel my spine tense, my eyes darting over to Finn, who looks to me with a gaze that says simply, It’s up to you Violet.
I know I could tell Alba the truth, that this was all a lie, and Finn would be fine with it. My heart sinks at this—that he would be all right for someone else to know this thing between us wasn’t real. He and Alba would probably laugh about it, make jokes. The thought makes me a little queasy.
I will look back on this years later, I think to myself, and still not be able to see the humour in it. It will sit within me like a raw, festering thing, locked up with hoarded memories of childhood bullies and getting fired from my job. Something so sensitive I have to keep it buried down deep.
I can’t bear to have this secret out in the open, so instead I force a smile onto my face, determined to see this out to the bitter end. That’s no problem, I’ll move my things over to Finn’s now.
She looks at me for a long moment, then only nods before turning to head back to her place.
Finn follows me into my cabin. He runs a hand through his hair, and exhales loudly—radiating stress.
You don’t have to do this Violet, he says, sounding stressed, too.
It’s fine, I say, waving him off.
Don’t say that. Someone else might interpret the snapping tone as him looking for a fight. But I know Finn better than that. Why do you do that Violet? Say things are fine when they’re not? Sometimes you can just bloody say, ‘Actually this is a total fucking shite-fest.’
I shrug, and try to make myself sound as flippant as possible. In this case, it is fine. I’m not looking at him when I say it though, and he comes closer, gently lifting up my chin to look at him. I feel a wave of anxiety crash through me at the forced eye contact.
He searches my face. Well it will be fine, because I’ll get a sleeping bag from my brother’s place and sleep on the floor.
I snort. Finn, we are two adults. The bed is huge, and it’s only for one night. We can share and it will be fine. He searches my face again, and I am all too aware of the zip that goes up my spine.
You’re certain?
Am I certain that it will be the most painfully charged night’s sleep I’ve ever had?
Yes, I say, smiling in that reassuring way that I don’t think fools him.
But I can’t help the thought that clangs through me: only one bed.
Chapter 31
FINN
VIOLET BRINGS HER THINGS OVER to my cabin, saying she needs to start getting ready for the rehearsal dinner tonight.
I’m not sure why I feel so agitated. This shite is something straight out of the seventh circle of hell.
Poor Finn, I think in a tone that is pure taking the piss, you have to share a bed with a stunning woman who you secretly fancy.
I remind myself again that it’s not until tomorrow night, after the wedding. Tonight she’s staying at Alba’s.
Alba, that absolute wench, who I’m convinced made up the shite with her dad to test us—as if she, too, is aware that we are running out of time to figure out what this is.
