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Charli reached out and accepted the olive branch in the form of tea.
The relief on Finn’s face was fleeting as he shuffled his feet. “Can we talk?” Three words Finn rarely, if ever, used.
She nodded and walked over to the couch in the living room, needing to get away from the lingering smell of smoke.
“I wish I had known it was your birthday yesterday,” he started.
“Oh, yeah? When was I supposed to tell you? Sometime over the last few days when you were ignoring me? Or maybe when you cut me off about going out with Stew?” His name tasted bitter on her tongue.
Finn sat on the cushion next to her. “You’re right. I’ve been a complete, selfish asshole.”
She sucked in a breath. Even the old Finn didn’t really admit when he was wrong. He usually just acknowledged her hurt, gave her some mind-blowing orgasms, and then they moved on.
“What did I usually do for you on your birthday?” he asked.
She sipped the tea. It was a little sweet, but not bad. “We’d spend the day together—usually most of it in bed. And then you’d give me a gift, and we’d have dinner with your parents before we got home and spent more time tangled together. Sometimes you’d surprise me with short trips to a cabin or a beach house. I never knew what to expect. But it was always the most special day, ever since you proposed on my eighteenth.”
He nodded and looked down. “I’m really sorry I screwed up. Looks like I have a lot to learn from the old Finn.”
“Thank you for apologizing. But that doesn’t erase what happened last night.” Charli set the cup on the coffee table.
Finn ran a hand over his head. He’d showered at some point, but his bruises were darker and angrier today. “I’d like to explain what happened after I left.”
She sat back, grabbing a pillow to hold in front of her as if it might protect her somehow from the blow his words were sure to deliver.
“I followed Stew to a club in the city. It was . . . it was a strip club.” His eyes didn’t waver from hers.
Her stomach pitched and her muscles grew rigid. The steel wall she’d let down around him so long ago snapped upright as if the last decade had never happened. As if they’d never tumbled together sharing their bodies and baring their souls with whispered promises of everlasting love.
“I didn’t know that’s where we were going, but I still chose to stay. And I’m really sorry for that . . . We had a couple drinks and then some women came over.”
Charli studied his face for any sign that he was being untruthful or omitting pieces. But his gaze never strayed and nothing but regret and sincerity were reflected back.
“One got close to me and sat on my lap—I pushed her off and told her I wasn’t interested, that I was married. But she was persistent. She kissed my neck, leaving that smear on my shirt. Nothing else happened with her. I swear.”
“Okay.” What else could she say? Did she believe him? Yes. But it still hurt.
“Then Stewart’s boss showed up with a couple of security guys and started some shit. I said I’d leave, but he had his muscle drag me out and then they started hitting me, so I fought back. The cops were called—”
Charli’s hand flew to her mouth.
“His boss told them I’d gotten handsy with the dancers, and he arrested me. I called Pop to bail me out, and he brought me home.”
Not another woman, then. The revelation should make her feel better, but there was still the fact that Finn had been arrested, dismissed her warnings about the man, and let him disrespect her in their home. “How could you be so reckless?”
Finn shook his head, his shoulders dropping. “I know. I should have never gone.”
“It isn’t even just that. You treated me horribly. When I told you about my feelings towards Stewart, you ignored them. He disrespected me, and you just stood there, letting it happen.”
Finn looked down. “I was an idiot. I know I can’t go back and redo things, but I swear I won’t make the same mistake again.”
“You could have been killed, Finn. After what happened with . . . Jesus, Finn. You know better than to go to those places and be around people like that. Even at seventeen your mother would have brought out the slipper if you so much as thought about going to a strip club. I could have lost you. And then your child would have grown up without a father. Is that what you want?”
“No.” He shook his head and reached out his hand to her bare knee. She was still in his old T-shirt, her usual sleeping attire. “Damn it. I fucked up. But I swear to you, it won’t ever happen again. I realized last night that I—I care for you, Charli. And I just . . . I’m committed to trying to be a better man. I want to make this work. If . . . if you’re still willing to try with me?” Vulnerability shone from his eyes. “Do you believe me?”
She took a deep breath, mustering the courage to reply. “I do. But you hurt me, Finn. I can’t . . . If we do this, I need you to talk to me. I can’t handle it when you get angry and walk out like that, leaving me wondering if you’re going to come back or what you’re doing. It reminds me of . . . a past I’d like to forget.”
His brows drew together, unspoken questions reflecting in his eyes. “I promise. I’ll do better.”
