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“Oh, no, I was waiting for—it wasn’t a date.” My cheeks burn.
“Good.” He leans back and crosses his legs at the ankles and takes a slow drag of this cigarette and my skin lights on fire as he blatantly trails his eyes down, then back up my body.
“Good?”
“Join me.” The corner of his mouth tilts up, and he nods to the empty chair at his table.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I should be going.” I try to leave again. Keyword being try. I can’t tell you why I don’t ignore him and leave like I ought to.
“It’s been a decade, Effie. Our families have been at peace for years, right?” I stare at him, not knowing what to say. Technically we are at peace for all he knows. Denying the truce would be suspicious, but joining him would be a risk too. Finn can read between the lines better than anyone I’ve ever met. He notices the tiniest details, and I am terrified I’ll give something away.
“Please…” he looks down and swallows deeply. When he looks back up again, his eyes have a raw vulnerability to them that tugs on my heart and makes me wonder if maybe he missed me as much as I missed him. “Just one drink.”
“Okay,” I manage to squeak out. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and grab the bottle of wine from my table.
The first thing he says when I sit down is, “God, I’ve missed you.”
And I wonder how the hell I’m going to get through this night.
“I think we are the last people here.” I look around the garden, now empty of all other diners and servers. It’s been three hours since I sat down, and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
“I don’t want to say goodbye.” Finn’s dark green eyes look at me earnestly, like he’s begging this night to never end.
But it has to.
It’s a cruel irony that we reconnect at the same time I’m planning a heist to rob him of his family’s finest possessions.
My mouth hangs open, still trying to formulate my response when the string lights lining the brick walls turn off. I look at him guiltily. “I think that’s our cue.”
“Fair enough,” he sighs, standing and coming around to my side of the table, holding out his hand.
I shouldn’t take it. I should walk away right now. Tuck this night away as a memory to hold onto but nothing more. But it’s so dark in the garden right now and maybe they forgot we are here, and maybe if I just reach out and take his hand right now in the night, it will be like it never happened in the morning.
I must take too long to decide because he tucks his hand into his pocket and gives me a weak smile. I stand and we start walking back through the rows of vegetables, passing orange squash blossoms and a bush of fragrant rosemary.
It feels so natural to slip my hand in the crook of his elbow and lightly grasp his bicep. I feel him tense slightly, but then he leans into me and I want to stop time. This night has been a gift I never expected, and I know as soon as we walk out of this restaurant, the illusion will shatter.
I don’t even realize I've stopped walking until he pauses and faces me. He gently peels my hand off his arm and holds it in front of him, picking up my other. My breathing slows as he looks down at me. “I meant what I said. I don’t want to say goodbye to you. Not again.”
His thumb slowly rubs circles on the back of my hand. The motion is so small but jarring. It’s too comforting, too soothing, and I can’t let that happen. We may have a truce right now but for how much longer?
“It’s really late, I have to go.” I bite my tongue to hold back all the words I want to say and tug my hands away.
I brush past him, but his fingers wrap around my wrist, and he spins me back. He catches me with a hand on my hip. The breath is snatched from my lungs when his fingers that were around my wrist raise to trace the edge of my chin with a featherlight touch.
His fingers trail up my jaw and into my hair, “Come home with me.”
“I can’t—”
“I’m parked out back, no one will see us leave together.”
“But—”
“I’ve waited ten years. I’m not waiting another minute.” His grip in my hair tightens and he pulls me to him, crashing his lips down on me. I’m only frozen for a moment, and then I’m melting into him, fisting the collar of his shirt and breathing him in like he’s the only pure oxygen in the air.
My mind empties of all thoughts but the feel of his mouth on mine. He tastes like the sweetest forbidden fruit, and I feel more drunk on him than the wine. I involuntarily whimper when he pulls away, immediately missing his touch like a drug. His voice is thick and raspy. “Yeah. You’re coming home with me.”
He bends down and then makes me scream as he wraps his arms around my thighs and throws me over his shoulder. “Finneas!”
