Page 10 of Cabin Fever

He wets his lips and hesitates, then turns, pressing his back to the rail so we’re facing opposite directions. “Right. We went to the market, and Theo got Dahlia peonies. I told him he should get actual dahlias⁠—”

I laugh. “Oh my gosh, so lame. Do you know how many guys have tried that?”

Finn’s laughing now, too. “That’s what Theo said. Hard pass.”

I feel his eyes on me, but based on how my body is reacting to him, especially after that hug, I keep my eyes trained forward on the waves.

“Who else had the delivery info? For the flowers?” he asks.

“A woman at Guest Services. Mom. Dahlia. Theo.” I draw a deep breath. “It’s not a big deal. Dahlia won’t care. I just want everything to be perfect for her.”

He nods, crossing his arms. “Give me a job.”

“What?”

“I'm serious.”

I turn to see if he’s messing with me.

“Harper, I'm the best man. Do you know what my responsibilities are right now? I've got the slideshow for the welcome dinner. I’ve prepared the toast. It's memorized, and it’s great, by the way. You'll cry.”

“Okay, presumptuous.”

He ignores me. “That leaves six days of me standing around while Theo and Dahlia get passed between forty of his relatives.”

“And friends.”

“Right.”

“Who you know.”

“Well—” Finn blows out a breath.

My eyes widen. “Wait, are you nervous?”

“No, I’m not—” He drops his arms and re-crosses them.

“Holy crap. Finn Gallagher is nervous. Wait! Is it because you’ve slept with half of Dahlia’s bridesmaids?”

“I haven’t slept with them!” Finn leans in, lowering his voice. “Kissed, yes. Not half, but a few.”

I chortle. “When? Back in high school? Or on your bi-annual visits back to Ohio?”

“That’s not the point. I’m just saying that I have nothing to do. Meanwhile you're out here running a seventy-three-person operation alone while dodging your—” He catches himself, glancing back to the restaurant, and recalibrates. “While dealing with a very full guest list. Harp, I manage subcontractors for a living. Flaky, unreliable subcontractors. Let me deal with your flower vendor or carry tables or something. I’m going crazy here.”

I should say no. Spending more time with Finn when he’s already staying in my literal bedroom is the last thing I need this week.

But he did just help with my dad. And, there’s a good chance, based on all the puzzle pieces I’m putting together, that Finn is as uncomfortable at this wedding as I am. Justified or not. Plus, the thought of someone else who’s not Mom or Dahlia lending a hand or problem-solving with me if the crap hits the fan makes the tight knot in my chest release a little.

I decide to take pity on him. “Fine.”

Finn gives a fist pump that makes him look like he’s seventeen again.

“But you have to do what I say,” I caveat.

“Perfect.”

“And that doesn’t mean we’re friends.”