Sensing my fears, Finn brushes his thumb and the bottom of his palm over my cheek. “You look beautiful this morning. You look beautiful every morning. I’m sorry I ruined this.”
“You…you didn’t ruin anything. This isn’t your fault.”
“I’m going to be back, Becki. I promise.”
“Because of the will? I’m sure circumstances would dictate that something could be done about—” His thumb shifts to my bottom lip, shushing me.
“That’s crazy talk, and I hope you know it. Anyway, I have to go. I’m going to get my bag and get out of here. I think I can still get an early flight. I have to make it there. In case…in case, well, I wasn’t…what we were talking about the other day. I’ve never made my peace with her, and I’ve never told her I forgive her for not being there, that if she wanted to be there now, I’d want her to.”
I nod, numbness sinking into my limbs. Finn nods too, and I nod again. Then he nods back.
In a blink of an eye, he’s gone.
I mean, not gone, but I can hear him upstairs packing his things.
This hurts. God, I knew it was coming because six months couldn’t last forever, but it hasn’t been six months. It hasn’t been…well, if Finn doesn’t come back, I don’t know what I’m going to do, and it sure as heck doesn’t bode well with me. I’ve made the typical mistake of starting to fall for someone just because they’re good in bed. Ummm, okay, no. I know that’s not true. I might have been physically attracted to Finn from the second I saw him because who wouldn’t be, but that’s not just it. That’s so not it.
When Finn comes down the stairs a few minutes later, carting his bag over his shoulder, I’m ready, and the saying ‘as ready as I’ll ever be’ comes to mind. I stand there awkwardly like a bump on a stump, trying to keep my face from doing all sorts of weird things like making a painful grimace or getting ready to cave and ugly cry. I wish I could keep all my doubts from showing because Finn doesn’t need to see that. Right now, he needs to concentrate on his family.
“I hope everything’s going to be okay,” I say weakly, but of course, I mean it.
Finn nods. “I’ll call you when I know something.”
“Take your time. I can’t imagine how I would react if something happened to my parents. I don’t know that I could get my bottom to the airport, get a rental returned, and get everything else sorted.”
“I’ll be alright. My dad did say it was minor, and he sounded very positive. If it were bad, I’d be asking for a ride.”
“Okay,” I mutter, hoping he’s right.
“I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Take your time with that too. I’ll manage like I always have.”
“I’m coming back. I can’t not come back. There are still so many animals I haven’t met yet. I haven’t even met the famous turkey in the wheelchair, the one who started all this.”
I slap a hand up to my forehead. “Oh my god. I’ve been so busy getting you to help me with things that I haven’t even introduced you to everyone yet. I don’t know how I could have done that. That’s so, so insensitive. And it’s so not me.”
“There’ll be time for it. Lots of time. And I’m looking forward to it.” Then Finn holds up his phone and says, “I gave you a gift while I was up there. I made a donation to you so you can do what I said. Get your insurance sorted and hire someone to help you here.”
“Are you…really? You didn’t have to do that. Not with everything else you have on your mind.”
Finn steps forward. He bends his head and sets his lips there in the longest, sweetest kiss that isn’t really a kiss. I don’t mind that his lips are suctioned to my skin. I don’t mind it one bit. But when he steps back, that’s what I mind—the cool, lingering breeze that seems to sweep through the house, chilling my skin. And also the chill bumps that coat my bare arms because I already miss his touch, and he hasn’t even walked out the door yet.
“Goodbye. For a few days.”
“Bye.” I lift my hand and wave stupidly as Finn exits.
I watch him walk all the way to his car. I watch him throw his bag into the back seat, I watch him get in the front and start it up, and I watch him back down the drive. I stand there watching for a long, long time.
After almost ten minutes, I turn around and walk straight into my little home office before parking my hind end in the comfortable old rolling chair. I don’t switch on my computer, but rather, I slide open the top drawer and take out my lined yellow notepad and a pen. I click it a few times, thump it on the paper, and gnaw my bottom lip while I think.