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She laughs. “You’re insufferable.”
I for her hand, and she laces her fingers through mine. “You like me.”
“I do,” she murmurs. “I’m afraid how much.”
“Still worried about the other shoe falling?”
She nods, biting her lip. “Rachel says it’s not abnormal…with my history.”
“She told me the same thing.”
“Let’s be a one-shoe family, shall we?” she asks.
I nod. “One shoe forever.”
I think maybe she knows when we pass the lighthouse park and start across the bridge. She sits up in her seat and looks out at the sound with her eyebrows notched together. “Is this an island, then?”
“I don’t know.” I’m trying hard not to laugh. “What do you think?”
She squeezes my hand, and I’m grinning like a fool. Finley’s giving me the kind of smile that makes my stomach do a barrel roll.
“Welcome to Whidbey Island, Siren.”
“Are you giving me a party?”
“You want a party? I can do that for you.”
She draws her legs up into her seat, and I can tell her pretty face is getting red.
“It’s not a bad surprise. And it’s just gonna be us at the party.”
We’re on this side of the island—closer to the city. It’s a little cottage—just three bedrooms—but it’s right there on the sound, where she can dip her toes into the water half a step outside our bedroom’s deck door.
It’s white brick, but kind of mossy, with two red brick chimneys and a dark roof that’s got some ivy spilling off one side of it. Finley peers out her window as we drive through the low-key little neighborhood. I hang a right beside its wrought-iron mailbox, and we roll down the long, tree-shaded driveway. Her eyes widen as I park outside the garage. When I hand her the key, she starts crying.
I laugh as she hugs me. “I can’t believe you tried to bill yourself as a woman who doesn’t cry.”
Her mouth meets mine. It’s hard, then softer…gentle and then fierce again—like Finley herself.
“No one ever made me cry like you do, Sailor.”
I pull her up against me, and I hug her hard. I’ll never take that for granted, being able to hug her.
Her hand runs down my chest. I grit my teeth as her palm cups me through my pants.
“You have an erection now?” She sounds accusing.
I laugh. “What’s wrong with right now?”
“Is this our house?”
“It’s your house. Well, I guess it’s mine, too, but it’s got your name on it. What do you think?”
She whispers, “I adore it.” She opens her car door. “Let’s go inside.”
We get in, and she cries some more. “Who put in the furniture? The fire is lit!”
I laugh.
