She pats my hand and leaves hers resting on mine. “Finn’s father says that I need to stop butting my nose into things.”
I turn to see Finn at a stall not too far away, close enough that when he looks up and sees us talking, he pays close attention.
“Any advice you have, I’d happily take.”
She takes in our surroundings—the trees, the grass, the crowds of people making their way past us.
“I just thought that the two of you would be excited that you no longer need to hide things. I thought there would be affection and kissing and whispering sweet nothings to one another, you know?”
My heart hurts for Wanda, and for the first time, I see exactly why Finn has done what he’s done. I see the concern in Wanda’s eyes for her son, the only one left in her small family that has no one to return home to and love unconditionally. Finn just wants to put her mind at ease and show her that he isn’t alone. But he is. He still goes home to be by himself, with no one to do any of that with.
I look back at him one more time and our eyes meet. Finn’s dark eyes are swimming with concern, and I shake my head hoping to settle his nerves.
I turn back to Wanda and offer her a reassuring smile. “It’s an adjustment. The two of us have gone eight months pretending to be nothing more than inconveniences to one another. Even though we don’t have to pretend, it’s still a habit for us to. We’re breaking it slowly, though, I promise.”
Her shoulders relax and I breathe out a sigh of relief. I squeeze her arm tighter to my side in a sort of hug that earns me one of her signature smiles.
Two strong arms suddenly rest on each of our shoulders; one on Wanda’s and one on mine, and Finn’s head separates ours.
“Anyone up for some cherry pie?” he asks.
With Wanda’s words stuck in my head, I utilize this moment, bringing Finn’s face closer to mine and planting a slow, lingering kiss on his cheek that has his neck going from a warm shade of brown to bright red.
“Lead the way.”
ChapterTwelve
FINN
Idon’t know what my mother said to Oakleigh while I wasn’t there, but whatever it was, I could kiss her for it.
Cherry has been a lot touchier ever since, and even though I can tell that some of them are for show, there is the occasional move she makes that I feel can’t be helped. The odd time that she’ll rest her hand on my bicep and her words will falter when I flex. The way her kisses to my cheek linger, and she always is the first to reach for my hand subconsciously.
I’m suddenly really grateful that my mother invited herself.
There’s a method to me walking behind them. It means that Oakleigh doesn’t always notice when I stop at a stall and buy her something that I think she’ll like. She hasn’t stopped to buy anything yet, but I can tell she’s taking everything in and then will decide what she wants afterward.
“You ladies hungry yet?” I ask from behind them.
“Oh, I could eat,” my mother answers, her grin widening.
“Me too,” Oakleigh agrees.
“Let’s head over there, then. That’s where all the food is.”
“Is all of the food made from cherries?” my mom asks with genuine fascination.
“Unfortunately, there is a limit to how much cherries can achieve.” Oakleigh pretends to gasp. “Sorry, my love.”
Her smile falters, but she catches it before it can disappear completely.
I steer them over to the food trucks and stalls selling hot food and they take the time to look around. I let them have their time to look around and stand off to the side so I’m out of the way. Usually, that’s how I prefer to be, out of the way; hidden in the shadows and watching from afar. I’ve never really been a fan of socializing, I suppose that’s why I get on with Gus so much, we both feel comfortable knowing the other barely knows what they’re doing. I think that’s why I started my company. In construction, you give orders, you give clients a rundown and then you fuck off. You build what you need to and leave them behind, taking their money with you. Granted, you also get to do that as an architect, my dream job, and yet that also involves a confidence that I just didn’t have back then…Still don’t, if I’m being honest.
Lately, I haven’t really been that way. I’ve put myself into the spotlight in town now that everyone knows about Oakleigh and myself. I am particularly talkative when we meet up with our friends; and with Oakleigh, there’s this need to keep the conversation going as long as possible for fear that it will end too soon. Because ending at all would be ending too soon.
I look up to see Mom and Oakleigh waiting in line for this food truck that sells bao buns, one of which is a pulled duck with cherry sauce, something I know Oakleigh is going to get.
I’m halfway toward them, when the shitshow starts in my mind.
