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“Excuse me?” Finn’s pulse was burning her nerve endings. “I would have done anything to cling to hope – any hope – that he and I meant more to each other than we did. I wanted, so badly, for him to give me any sign that he felt for me what I did for him.”
“But he did! He kept asking you to stay.”
“As his lover, not in his life.”
“Yeah, okay, that’s not perfect, but he’s an idiot. At least when it comes to relationships. I’m not saying you have to forgive him everything. But don’t you think you owe him at least a chance to make it up to you?”
“No. I can’t risk it.” Finn sucked in a deep breath. “He eviscerated me, guys. I can’t go through it again. I don’t think I’d survive it.”
“I don’t think he’s going to break your heart. I think he’s going to make you the happiest you’ve ever been. And if I’m wrong …”
“If you’re wrong?” Finn pushed moodily.
“I bet I won’t be.”
Finn scraped her chair back with a polite smile. “I really appreciate your concern. And I’m sorry about the flowers. But it’s my problem. And my life.” She kissed Connie on the head and then Cliff. “Thank y
ou guys for caring. I love you both. I have to go to work.”
She smoothed her jacket and checked her appearance in the hall mirror before pushing out into the frigid December day. A wind wuthered past the building, making a high pitched screaming noise that set her nerves on edge. They remained that way all day. She went through the motions of her job, smiling politely and navigating the car expertly through the back streets of the West End, but her mind was at the breakfast table, and her head was digesting Connie’s words.
On autopilot, at the end of the day, she found herself driving not to her own comfortable little flat, but to Caradoc’s palatial home in the skies above Canary Wharf.
And there she sat, parked across from the entrance to his building, her mind and heart literally split on what she should do. The next two minutes were shaping up to be the most important of her life. And Finn had only to decide if she was brave enough to trust him once more.
Or was she stupid if she did?
With a groan, she fished her new phone from her bag and ran her finger over the screen. What could she say? He’d done what she asked of him. He’d stayed away. But the flowers that had arrived every day were his way of reassuring her. He was still there. He wanted her. There was no one else.
She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath, then stepped out into the evening. Though he was on the top floor, and she remembered it taking a while to reach there the last time she’d come to him, the lift seemed to move with the speed of angels that night.
It opened onto his level swiftly, and Finn was left in an empty corridor, staring at his door.
Her breathing was rushed. She told herself she’d wait just until she could speak without sounding puffy and out of breath. She walked slowly towards his apartment, and felt as though the strings of destiny had wound around her slender frame and were guiding her in his direction.
Finn had surrendered to it all now.
She loved him too much to do otherwise.
The door opened when she was only two feet away and she startled, her green eyes flying to Caradoc’s face accusingly.
“Seraphina?” He stopped walking and stood still, like a statue.
He was dressed in a dark grey suit with a crisp white shirt. He was going out somewhere.
“Need a lift?”
The joke was inane and it fell flat. He dragged his eyes over her appearance – dressed in a white shirt and black pants, he put an arm around her and moved her towards his apartment. “You’re frozen.”
“Am I?” She frowned. She’d been cold to the core for months now.
“Yes,” an angry hiss. “Come in. Sit down.”
The sofa was cream. Just like New York. She eased herself into it and stared at yet another incomparable view of a twinkling city. His laptop was set up on the table, and there were papers spread out wide on either side.
“I interrupted. You’re working.”
He looked over from the kitchen, halfway through making a cup of tea. He’d noticed she had them often. He’d even heard her –absurdly, he’d thought – refer to ‘tea moments’. He would have bet his fortune that this was one of them.
