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“You’re here with someone.” Not just someone. His lover. The woman who had been in his bed long before her, and who was no doubt sharing it now.
“No,” he denied instantly. “Not in the way you’re imagining. Just … give me a moment and I can explain.”
He turned to speak to Marlena and now, Finn’s brain was back in charge. She looked at the two of them together and moved quickly away. Any guilt she felt for letting Anton down was more than justified by the blind panic of coming face to face with the love of her life – and his lover.
She hailed a cab and, only once safely in the leather interior, did she pull out her mobile and fire two quick text messages. The first was to Anton. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to deal with him. I ran away. She emphasised it with a frustrated emoji and then loaded up a new text message. This one took her a little longer to compose, but finally, she sent it.
I need you to respect my choice now, as you have all along. It’s over between us. What I wanted from you – what I thought I felt for you – that’s in the past now. Goodbye.
And in that moment, Finn discovered she had a similar flair for the dramatic as Caradoc’s mother Sasha. She wound down the window of the taxi and flung her broken phone out onto the bridge. Spinning around in the seat, she saw it being run over by the lorry following and smiled weakly.
It was over.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” Cliff grumbled, spooning his cereal into his mouth messily.
“You know, I don’t think anyone over eight eats those rice bubble things,” Finn chastised affectionately, reaching across and smoothing one off his cheek.
He shrugged. “They’re good.”
“And what won’t you get used to?” Connie prompted, her head bent over a stack of assignments.
“Our apartment looking like a funeral home.”
Finn bit down on her lip as she surveyed the room. Caradoc had taken it to the next level. Flowers were everywhere. Enormous bunches of roses, lilies, tulips and greenery. It was both beautiful and depressing, for Finn found she could never get him out of her head.
“You can throw them out, if you’d like,” she said with a shrug of affected nonchalance.
“They’re too beautiful for that,” Connie responded swiftly. “They should at least be dried out and turned into pot pourri.”
“Sure. Go ahead. Be my guest. I don’t want them.” She pushed her plate away, the toast half eaten.
Connie sent a meaningful look to Cliff, who proceeded to shovel yet another spoonful of cereal in.
“It’s been two weeks since you saw him,” she began tentatively, reaching across and grabbing Finn’s hand when she went to stand up. “Just let me say this. We need to talk about it. We’re all living this out with you now.”
“That’s not my fault,” Finn chipped angrily.
“No, but we care about you. We want to talk to you. To help you.”
“Then let’s move,” she said dejectedly.
“That’s not going to solve it. He’s persistent as hell,” Cliff said through a full mouth.
“How is it possible you’re still single? Connie murmured sarcastically, staring at the milk that dribbled out of the corner of his lips and rolled down his chin. “But you have a point. Listen, Finny, we wouldn’t say anything except that you’re … well…”
“Miserable,” Cliff offered helpfully.
“Yeah,” Connie agreed. “You’re not happy. You still love this guy, and he’s obviously madly in love with you. So why are you ignoring him?”
“Because, you’re wrong. He’s not in love with me. He doesn’t believe in love. He’s fucked up. He’s… completely closed off.”
Connie shook her head. “He might not believe in love, but he’s living it. Why does it matter so much to you that he say the words? What the hell is a word anyway? A sentence? Love is about more than that, and you know it. It’s about how you treat someone.”
Finn’s hurt squished in her chest. Pain radiated through her. “And he treated me like I was inconsequential and utterly expendable.”
“Did he really? Or is that just what you want to believe?” Connie pushed.
