Boom. Boom. Boom.
She blinked, squinting in the relentless morning light streaming through the windows, and tried to make sense of where she was. Not Finn’s room where she’d been waking up for the last few weeks. And not her own place. She focused in on the thick wooden roof beams, awareness filtering through her half-asleep brain. The living room. Finn’s living room. No, now hers. Finn was gone.
A fresh wave of despair washed over her, and she closed her eyes again, wanting to curl into a ball and stay there. But the booming returned and became more insistent. Not inside her head. The door. Someone was at the door.
Finn?
Her heart leapt at the thought. But why would he be knocking?
She pushed herself off the couch and glanced at the key on the coffee table. Maybe he didn’t have a key anymore. Maybe he was coming back. Maybe he’d changed his mind.
She hurried to the door, though her limbs were still heavy with the kind of sleep you fall into after a long, hard cry. But she made it to the door in record time. She swung it open, and her hopes popped like soap bubbles.
Kincaid stood on the doorstep with a grocery bag in her arms, and Rebecca and Taryn were behind her, all three peering Liv’s way. Kincaid gave her a good up-and-down look, sympathy crossing her face. “Oh, honey.”
Liv frowned and pushed her tangled hair back from her face. “What are you doing here?”
“Triage.” Kincaid stepped inside, moving past her without an invitation. “Rebecca got a mysterious text from Finn asking her to check on you, that he was headed out of town. I figured that could only mean bad things. I brought cake.”
“And coffee,” Taryn said, following her inside and balancing a tray of Starbucks.
“And liquor for the coffee.” Rebecca cradled a bottle of Irish Cream.
Liv braced a hand on the doorframe, watching the women file past her, her stomach knotting up at the words headed out of town. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m really not up for visitors. I barely slept and—”
“Would rather wallow alone,” Kincaid finished. “Believe me, I get it. But we made a deal. No more handling the hard shit solo. We’re here for you. We’ve been preparing all summer.”
“Preparing?”
Rebecca turned, auburn hair neatly tucked behind her ears but regret in her gaze. “We all saw what was happening between you two. It was hard not to see.”
Liv sighed and shut the door—too emotionally exhausted to argue—and followed them into the kitchen.
“It was like watching two friends getting on a plane that you know doesn’t have enough fuel,” Kincaid said, setting her bag on the counter. “We couldn’t tell you to not take the trip, but we knew there’d be a crash landing at the end.”
Rebecca frowned as her attention skimmed over Liv’s bedraggled state—wrinkled clothes from yesterday, and her face was probably a puffy mess. Rebecca let out a huff. “So he left.”
Liv pressed her lips together, willing herself to hold it together, and nodded. But the tears wouldn’t be denied. Her eyes filled up again, even though she would’ve bet good money that she had none left after last night.
“Oh, Liv,” Taryn said, setting the coffee down and coming to her side. “Come here, girl.”
Taryn put her arm around her, and Liv fought her instincts to lock all of the emotions up tight, to ask them to leave, to hide. Instead, she let herself lean into Taryn and be led to a chair. Her friends surrounded her, offering her tissues for her tears, shoulders to lean on, and cake.
Because that was what friends did.
And somehow Liv now had some to call her own.
In between sniveling, Liv relayed the story. Not every detail but the basics. Love. Work. Fighting. Leaving. Gone.
When Liv had finally gotten it all out and regained some of her composure, the women took seats around the kitchen table with her.
Kincaid set the chocolate Bundt cake in the middle and pushed a cup of coffee and the bottle of Irish Cream Liv’s way. “So you told him you were fine with a summer-only romance, and then you freaked out when he told you he had to leave?”
“Basically,” Liv said miserably, taking the coffee to warm her chilled hands but ignoring the cake and alcohol. She hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before, but she didn’t have the stomach to handle food or liquor. “I totally reneged on the deal. I wasn’t fair.”
Kincaid shrugged and cut a slice of cake. “Nah, it sounds like a legit reaction to me. Those types of deals are null and void once someone says I love you. That’s in the fine print.”
“Agreed.” Rebecca poured a shot into her own coffee. “That breaks the contract.”