Page 76 of Unmanageable

Before she can hit me again, Frank returns, carrying a massive silver tray that smells like heaven. There’s a sizzling iron crock of brie, little toasted slices of bread topped with rare beef, and two tall flutes of champagne that are bubbling so hard they’re spraying a fine mist into the air.

“Here you go, kids,” Frank says, setting the plates down with a flourish.

He hesitates, looking at the two of us with this expectant, romantic grin that tells me the performance isn’t over yet. He taps the edge of his tray against his hip, waiting.

“Well? Come on now. Don’t be shy. Let’s see it. A toast to the beautiful bride.”

I look at the champagne. I look at Frank. Then I look at Scottie.

The amber light from the stage is hitting the side of her face, turning her red hair into a halo of dark gold, highlighting the small, pale freckles across the bridge of her nose. The air in the booth feels dangerously charged.

“To the bride,” I say, my voice dropping an octave.

I lift my glass.

She looks at me, her eyes fixed on mine, her legal composure gone now, replaced by that soft, vulnerable look that always hits me right in the center of my ribs. She lifts her glass, her fingers trembling slightly as the crystal clinks together.

“To the bride,” she smiles, and there is no sarcasm left in her voice.

We both take a sip, the cold alcohol burning down my throat, but it’s nothing compared to the heat rising in the booth.

“Alright now,” Frank chuckles, leaning his elbows on the back of the empty booth next to us, completely oblivious to the sudden, heavy shift in the atmosphere. “You can’t leave an old man hanging like that. Seal the deal, son. Give her one for the road.”

The stage behind us explodes into a fast, rolling drum solo, the saxophone coming back in with a high wail that makes the floorboards vibrate. The room is loud, the music is hot, and my heart is hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

“Frank wants a performance, Scottie,” I say, not breaking eye contact.

I don’t move. I stay right where I am, my hand still wrapped around hers, waiting for the boundary to finally break.

Scottie doesn’t pull away. She looks at Frank, then she looks back at me, her tongue quickly darting out to wet her lower lip. A tiny, reckless smile touches the corner of her mouth—the ‘Shark’ deciding to dive into the deep end.

“Well, then don’t disappoint Frank,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the music.

I don’t wait for her to change her mind. I slide across the torn leather seat until there’s no space left between us, my right hand coming up to cup the side of her neck, my thumb resting right on the warm, pulsing vein beneath her jaw.

When I lean down, she meets me halfway.

Her lips are soft and wet from the champagne, opening under mine with a small, breathless sigh that goes straight to my gut.

I pull her closer, my arm wrapping around her waist, lifting her slightly off the seat until she’s pressed entirely against my chest. She makes a small, frustrated sound in her throat, her hands coming up to grip the fabric of my sweater, pulling me in deeper.

When I pull back an inch, my forehead resting against hers, we’re both gasping for air. Her eyes are dark and unfocused, her lips swollen and bright red under the amber spotlight.

Frank lets out a loud, roaring whistle from the shadows, clapping his hands together. “That’s what I’m talking about! Enjoy the cheese, kids!”

He walks away, chuckling to himself, leaving us alone in the red velvet booth.

Scottie stays right where she is, her forehead still pressed against mine, her fingers still gripping the fabric of my sweater like she’s afraid she’s going to float away if she lets go. Her breath is warm against my mouth.

“Finn,” she whispers.

“Yeah, Scottie?”

“Yuri wouldn’t approve.”

“I know,” I say, my thumb brushing over her cheekbone, lingering there. “The river is completely out of its banks, Scottie. There’s no stopping it now.”

She lets out a small, wet laugh, her head dropping against my shoulder, her body relaxing into the curve of my arm.