Page 4 of One Vow

No. Ten years ago, we needed to talk. Ten years ago, we had something to talk about. Now, we didn’t. I shut the door again.

He chuckled from the other side. “Lis, we can do this all day. I’ll knock. You’ll open the door. I’ll say something stupid, and you’ll slam it shut again.”

He paused just long enough for me to swallow my heart.

“But we both know every time I knock, you’re going to open that door.” I hated the way his voice made my heart race, even now.

“We know no such thing.” I spit the words out, hissed them even. Time had healed me, cured me of my Finn addiction. But after a minute I folded, and because he was outside and I was inside and I couldn’t see him, I could ask. “How do we know?”

“Because we’re us.”

Cured might have been a bit much to hope for. And because no one needed proof of that more than I did, I opened the door again. “What do you want?”

He moved around me then turned to provide me the full-on Finn effect. The bedroom eyes, tongue peeking out between full, extremely kissable lips, body as perfect as I remembered, maybe better than I remembered, broad at his shoulders, tapered at his waist, with long legs and an ass I could’ve bounced quarters off of. If that was a thing. Which of course, it wasn’t. But I was willing to give it a try.

“You look good, Lis.” I’d spent the morning lugging boxes down from the attic. The red bandana holding my hair back was soaked with sweat. My hoodie was a left-over of his, and he hadn’t been around in ten years of washing and drying. My jeans and probably my face had more streaks of dust than my feather duster had ever rid from my house. I aspired to good.

“You still lie like a champ, Finn.” And I hated him for it. And loved him for it. And hated myself for loving him for it. Mixed emotions were tough.

He cleared his throat and smiled as he looked around. I could feel it, the way his gaze judged everything in my home. I hadn’t taken down the picture of us at the beach, the sunrise over the ocean from that same morning, and the shadow box of memories I’d kept was still there because I was stronger than that damned box of movie tickets and photos and piece of shirt he’d worn to our wedding. And by God, the only reason I kept it in my sight line was to remind myself I was over him. Usually, I didn’t need much reminding. Well, not as much as right then. In my defense, he was usually three thousand miles across the country.

“I would’ve thought you’d moved by now.”

Could’ve. Would’ve. Should’ve. Really should’ve since I was about ten seconds from embarrassing myself by blurting out how much I missed my husband. Him. The same man who hadn’t waited two full weeks before he left me.

“And leave our love nest and all those memories from our eleven days of marriage?” I scoffed. On the outside, unaffected. Borderline rude, even. But inside… so affected. “Never even considered it.”

Except every other day and twice a day on PMS week.

“Those memories kept me warm on many a lonely night.” He looked me up and down leaving a trail of heat. And all that burgeoning heat pissed me off. How dare he once-over me? And how dare he use my memories for his sick pleasure? My memories. My sick pleasure. Fucking confusion.

I sighed. Enough was enough. “What do you want, Finn?”

He shook his head and chuckled. “I don’t even know how to say this.”

Oh, dear God. “Just say it.”

My voice cracking in the middle absolutely did not mean I was hoping he’d ask to fuck his way down memory lane.

He smiled and reached out as if he planned to touch me. I moved back. “Always so tough.”

Yeah. That was right. I was too tough to be hung up on a guy who waited just long enough for the going to get tough before he got the hell out of Glouster.

“I’m busy, Finn.” I swept my arm toward the mountain of Christmas decorations I’d liberated from their attic exile. The city had already sent me a letter for breeching my agreement with them. And now it was either hang the lights by Christmas Eve or pay the $1,000 fine to make up for the tax break I got when I refinanced.

“Right.” Now he wouldn’t look at me and my stomach churned. I’d seen this whole routine before, and it hadn’t ended well for me. His Adam’s apple bobbed once then again. “I’m engaged.”

Oh shit.

“That’s great.” I lied and hid behind a fuck-you smile as my body clenched in anger, maybe even regret. It was also stupid of me to continue standing there staring at my love-life past when I had Christmas future to hate. I opened a box and stared at the little houses inside that belonged to the perfect Christmas town. Oh, yeah. This box could wait until last.

“Lis.”

His voice, or more the softness of it, cut me. Deep. That had to be where the tears came from.

“What?” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“There’s more.”