Page 69

“I just…if you’re happier now, without me, then—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Finn.” She moves back so she can glare up at him in full force. “You’re using this to make yourself feel better? Really?”

He grimaces. “I didn’t mean—”

“Why did you think I was unhappy?”

“What?”

“With you. Why did you think I was unhappy with you? I never said that, did I? You made it up, Finn. So I will say it again, and I want you to actually listen to me this time.” She’s biting out the words and tries to take a breath, to steady her voice. “You may be happier without me, but I am not.” She feels a twist as she says it—the full vulnerability of saying the words out loud. She closes her eyes briefly, knowing that, now it’s out, she can’t take it back.

She opens her eyes to see him watching her.

“I’m happier outside of London,” he says slowly. He takes a step toward her, and she tilts her head up to meet his gaze. “But I’m not happier without you, Mel.” She swallows a lump in her throat. It doesn’t make sense for it to be there, but it is.

“I saw this house recently,” Finn continues, voice almost conversational. “In Norfolk, gorgeous countryside. Not too far from Norwich, so still a good city nearby, but amazing beaches around too. I went to visit it. It needs doing up, of course—but I saw it and I…” His gaze flickers back to her. “I thought of you. I thought of us, living together there. I don’t know why it was this house in particular—maybe it would have been any house. But I could imagine us being there, together.” His mouth lifts into a crooked smile. “Like, I could see you in the bedroom, could imagine how we’d decorate it. I could imagine what the kitchen would look like, and how we’d cook terrible meals together—or maybe not so terrible, after the other night. Spinach excluded, of course.”

Her heart is beating hard against her ribs as she watches him talk. He’s talking about a life—a life with her. He’s been imagining a life with her, even after he left her. He still hurt her, he still abandoned her, broke her heart. But he didn’t forget about her.

“Maybe that’s what you had with the flat,” Finn continues. “Maybe you saw a life for us there, together—and then I let you down. But I didn’t think that’s what I was doing. I thought I was, I don’t know…” He huffs out a frustrated breath, waving a hand in the air as he tries to find the words.

“If you say ‘setting me free,’ then I’m going to kick you, Finn.”

He laughs, just a little, then gives her a guilty look.

She shakes her head. “Why didn’t you just ask me if I was unhappy?” Because is this really it? All of this, because he’d convinced himself she didn’t want to be with him?

“I did.” He scrapes a hand through his hair. “Well, I tried. But you always said it was work.”

“It was work.”

“Right, but you never talked about it, specifically. You seemed to be drawing more and more away from me, into your business and—”

“Because it’s my business, Finn.” She can’t help her voice from coming out short. “I need to put time into it, to make it work.”

“I know.”

“I’m allowed to be stressed about it,” she says, impatient.

“Of course you are. But you didn’t want to talk to me about it, so how was I to know it was just work stressing you out and not me?”

She stares at him. It feels obvious to her, because of course he should have known it wasn’t him. But, then again, she hadn’t wanted to talk to him about it, had she? Because she hadn’t wanted to make out that she wasn’t capable, that she might fail at doing this thing that everyone was so proud of her for.

“You wouldn’t tell me what was wrong,” he continues quietly. “I knew you were upset about something, in the months before we…before I ended it. It was gradual, but I could see it creeping up on you, could see how much you were trying to pretend you were fine. It was my mum all over again, pretending she was fine when we all knew, what Dad was doing to her—or what he was doing without her, more to the point.”

“I’m not—”

“I know. I know,” he says again, more gently. “You’re not my mum. And I’m not my dad. But, still, I could see it happening and when you wouldn’t talk to me all I could do was assume it was me making you feel like that.”

“That’s…” Ridiculous, she wants to say. But she manages to stop herself, because he’s being honest, isn’t he? And, whether or not she thinks it’s ridiculous, it’s what he felt.

He seems to hear her unsaid word, though. “I always knew where I stood with you,” he says on a sigh. “Always, pretty much from the moment we met. And then it was like suddenly I didn’t and I couldn’t figure out why. You were always so direct, always said what was on your mind. Then you stopped doing it and I didn’t know how to figure it out. So I assumed that, if you weren’t telling me, it must be because you didn’t want to hurt me.”

“Well,” she says, “you were wrong. I wasn’t trying not to hurt you. I was trying not to let you down.”

We should at least be honest with each other.

He frowns. “Let me down?”