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“Obviously?”
“Obviously. Say yes, sweetheart. Say you’ll do it. One last job, for me.”
A slow but bright smile spreads across her face. “All right. When does she need me over there by?”
“How does tomorrow sound?”
25
AMBER
Finn is hiding something and,the funniest thing is, I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s doing a good job at it.
When he calls me an hour before my flight to make sure I’ve gotten to the airport safely and that I’m enjoying the lounge privileges that come with the obscenely expensive last minute first class ticket he bought, I can tell immediately that something is up.
He’s smiling like he physically can’t stop himself, his grin stretching from ear to ear. Someone else might put this down to him just being excited about my imminent arrival in New York, but there’s something else there.
It’s in his gaze, the way he steadfastly refuses to meet mine like he’s afraid if we look into each other’s eyes I’ll spot what he’s hiding. It’s in his gestures and voice that don’t quite match up. The gestures are too wide and dramatic for the deliberately light and airy tone he’s putting on, like he can’t quite decide how he wants to play this and keeps bouncing between the two extremes.
What’re you hiding Finn Hawthorne? And why has it got you smiling like that?
I’m desperate to know, but I’m also enjoying the unintentional performance he’s putting on. And it’s a good distraction from the maelstrom of doubt currently swirling in my mind.
As eager as I am to see Finn again, as much as I’ve spent the entirety of this last week missing him with every fibre of my being, one thought stays bouncing around my mind.
Why are we doing this?
Against my better judgement I’ve ignored the fact that it’s obvious that this whole ‘my sister has a property she wants you to design’ thing is nothing more than a flimsy excuse to see me, and I allowed myself to get caught up in the romance of it all.
Because it is romantic, isn’t it? This man misses me so much that, after just a week apart, he’s willing to fly me out on a first class ticket to see him. I should be swooning right now. And I do, for a little while. But then reality comes crashing over me like a wave, and suddenly I’m drowning in doubt.
What happens after this? Once we’ve enjoyed this time together and I’m sitting on a flight back to the UK, what happens when we decide we miss each other again? How many times can he conjure up a job opportunity to convince me to come and visit before we both have to admit that this isn’t sustainable?
We both deserve something permanent, not just lust filled trysts every now and then just because he happens to be able to afford the airfare.
It feels like we’re just delaying the inevitable. It might not happen on this visit, or the next, or even the one after that, but itwillcome crashing down on us eventually. When we realise that we both want more, and neither of us are in a position to give it.
Would he leave New York for me? I frown and let the question roll around in my mind. No, I don’t think so. His work is over there, his family too – and I’d never ask it of it him.
Not for something so new.
Maybe if we’d had more time together. If these three months had been three years and I hadn’t spent half of them hating him, maybe then we’d have something to build on.
WouldIleave if he asked me?
The thought makes my stomach twist and I know immediately that I wouldn’t. Not now. I’m entering a new chapter in life – I’ve just bought a house, I’mfinallystriking out on my own at work, and I think I’d probably end up resenting him if he asked me to give it all up to come and stay with him.
Bailey thinks I’m being ridiculous.
“You can’t design houses in New York?” she asked, incredulous, when I voiced these thoughts to her.
I can, technically, but it would be an uphill battle. This industry is one that thrives on connections and word of mouth, and I don’t have any of that in New York. It’s going to be difficult enough building my own client list in London, I don’t want to make things any harder.
This thing that Finn and I have going on clearly has an expiration date and we’re racing towards it.
I wonder if he realises it.
A voice crackles out of the overhead speakers and announces that boarding has begun for my red-eye flight. The sound snaps me out of my increasingly depressing thoughts and I force myself to lean back into the excitement I’d been feeling earlier.
