Page 68 of Falling for Her

Me:

Ohh and then maybe we can go shopping after.

Collins:

Great, my most favorite thing to do.

I laugh because she’s told me numerous times that she hates it.

Me:

I can’t wait.

At 11:00 p.m., I turn off the television and head to bed.

He does not come and knock on my door.

I sleep in until 8:00 a.m., then shower and put on my white tank top bodysuit and a jean skort that fits me better than it has in years, the two silver buttons on the side buttoning with ease.

I walk outside and look over to see if the boys are up, but it’s quiet. Since we’re going shopping, I take my car. Brock did a good job repairing the damage; the windshield is as good as new. I’m still pissed at Davis, but my lawyer said if I can’t prove it was him, there’s nothing I can do about it. At this point, the only thing I really care about is being free from him and going on my merry way. He can do whatever and whoever he wants.

I make it to the bakery before Collins. While I wait, I sip my coconut matcha. When my best friend walks in wearing a tight baby-blue sundress that shows off her baby bump, I can’t help but smile.

“You are glowing,” I tell her as she comes over and kisses my cheek.

She sits down. “I have to say, the first trimester I was not a fan of, but now this”—she rubs her stomach—“this trimester is great.”

“What do you want to eat? I’ll go and get it for us.” She tells me she’s craving chocolate, gives me her order, and I put it in, then come back with it. “So tell me”—she takes a bite of her cake—“what has been up with you?”

“I feel like I’ve lived nine lives since I saw you last.” I spread cream cheese on my blueberry bagel. “Let’s see, after I took Asa fishing, I almost got fired.” Her eyes widen. “Then I took him riding at Charlie’s, and that almost got me fired. Then I polished the stairs, and apparently Lincoln almost broke his face—which he didn’t, by the way, so he may have been exaggerating. Then I bleached his clothes, and they’re basically ruined, so I tried to quit. Because quitting would be better than being fired.” I think I’m just rambling now. “That was after I burned dinner, and he kissed me, and I kissed him back.”

“I’m sorry, what? Finley . . .” she says my name softly.

“I know it’s dumb. It was a dumb thing to do. But we talked about it,” I lie to her, and I hate it. “It was a kiss of hatred, so it meant nothing. In no time, I’ll be gone, and this will all be just a blip in my life.”

“Right.” She picks up her orange juice. “Now try to convince yourself of that.”

I laugh. “You read through that, huh? He’s a good dad . . . and he’s smoking hot.” I shake my head. “And man, can that man kiss. If there were courses on how to kiss a woman, he should be teaching them.” She laughs. “It’s fine, Collins,” I assure her when she stops and looks at me. “Besides, it’s not like I could fall in love with someone in two weeks.” I scoff at my words as Finley just watches me. “Learned my lesson the hard way with Davis.”

“It’s not always like that. You shouldn’t judge one person for the other person’s faults.”

“I’m not judging anyone. I’m just stating a fact that I went too fast with Davis. He said all the right things. All the things I craved to ever hear. It was an illusion of the man he really was. He made me see what I wanted to see, and I was so blinded by the fact that he was so into me that I didn’t ask all the questions that I needed to ask him, or maybe I did, and he lied. I don’t know. I mean, I’ve had superficial friendships and relationships my whole life. So, to me, it was normal.”

“Well, the good news is that you know what you did wrong with Davis, so you won’t repeat your mistakes.”

“Yes.” I point my finger at her. “Exactly. So, I stand by my previous statement. It’s not like I could fall in love with someone in two weeks.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

LINCOLN

“Dad.” I feel Asa’s hot breath on my neck. “Dad.” He lays his whole upper body across my back. “Dad, are you up?” His face is now in front of mine. “Dad.” He pauses for a couple of seconds. “I’m starving.”

I wait a beat, and when he’s about to say something else, I roar, turning my back and bringing him to his knees and burying my face in his neck. He screams first, then his laughter fills the room.

“Gotcha,” I tell him, and he tries to wiggle out of my arms. “What do you say?”

“I surrender.” He tries to buck me off, and I let him. He sighs. “Now, can I have breakfast?”