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“Finn!” Rory scolds after he almost takes out an entire rack of sequined sashes. “You can look. Only the groom isn’t allowed to see. Stop covering your eyes before they kick us out because you groped another mannequin.”
“Another?” Finn remarks cluelessly, removing his hand.
In my peripherals, I notice the attendant silently sigh a winded huff in relief.
“Here,” he says, blinking away what I assume are the dark spots in his vision and handing the box to Rory.
She chuckles and I’m not sure why, but I find myself following suit. Something, and I can’t pinpoint exactly what, feathers, lightening a denseness in my chest.
His eyes find mine as strongly as thunder is drawn to lightning and it somersaults something underneath my ribs.
For the first time in years, it’s as if I get a glimpse of the Finn I remember. The one who isn’t actively scowling or repulsed by my very being.
A flash, like in a storm, and then it’s gone, and his mouth flattens back to a straight line.
“Why are you here?” His disapproval is back in full force now.
My chin begs to cower, shielding myself from the cruelty that is his gaze, but the unwillingness of my brain won’t allow it. The determination wins out, and I match his stubborn hostility with one of my own.
“Why wouldn’t she be?” Rory asks, unconcerned about our quiet battle of wills. “Haileyismy maid of honor,” she protests, defending me.
The shield creates a thick spot in my throat.
The skin around Finn’s face tightens before he rips his gaze from me. It softens in the short time it takes to get back to Rory. “Lil Sis, I came to drop off some shoes. I did that, so I’m out.”
If Rory is hurt by the shortness in his tone, she doesn’t show it. “Thank you, Finn, I appreciate you making the drive,” she says being respectful.
I don’t miss the hint of strain in her voice while she tries to be strong. The subtle twitch to the one side of Finn’s upper lip tells me he doesn’t either.
He’s still mad at her because of me. I forced her to keep my secret and not tell him about Aiden. I shouldn’t have, but I did and it’s another narrative I created out of my own fear.
A thud and then wails of hysteria in the form of a child’s tears boom around the store.
Everyone turns, following the sound downward. I could scoff. Much like his father, Aiden has a knack for liking to be the center of attention.
Picking him up, I coo, coaxing him to calm down as fat droplets continue to fall past his cheeks. The small red bump on his forehead minuscule to his theatrics.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me my son was going to be here either?” Finn asks, sounding hurt and a part of me breaks for him.
I avoid the intensity that is Finn watching us by apologizing to the worker instead. “He’s a bit cranky. He didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
Between all this mess, Rory’s turned into a traitor. She goes back behind the curtain to change into her regular clothes.
The pressure of Finn and I basically being in a room alone is like heat expanding around an open flame. Wild but blistering.
I’m on the verge of begging Rory to hurry up when she hollers from the other side, needing help undoing the back. The attendant, as if sensing the tension, all but bulldozes inside, too willing to help.
Great. Now itisonly us.
You could cut the tension with a knife, it’s so awkward.
“You know what we need?” Rory says, shoving the curtain back, fully dressed in the clothes she arrived in.
“What?” I plead, sounding pathetic.
The resentment Finn has toward me is as passionate as it is intense. In the silence, it’s only had time to fester, growing that much more.
“A macaroni night. We haven’t had one of those in ages.”
