I narrowed my eyes at her. Finn and I had offered to watch Conley plenty. It wasn’t our fault she didn’t trust us to be alone with him.
Finn leaned over to me and spoke under his breath. “10-32.”
I sighed. Fine. So there’d been one teeny time when we came a little bit too close to letting the kid drown in his bathtub. But it had been fine. And who had better access to EMTs than the sheriff? No one.
Finn straightened back up and gave Tess his red-carpet smile, the one I couldn’t wait to see in person on the actual red carpet when Gold Rats was released next spring and I accompanied Finn to the premiere.
Nolan Trainor’s shocking diagnosis of a degenerative brain disease had rocked the film industry and shocked the cast and crew of Gold Rats, including Finn. Ironically, it had been the medical testing after he hit his head that had led to his diagnosis. It had explained his rapid mood shifts and inability to retain critical information such as safety and legal regulations.
That hadn’t explained the DP and stunt coordinator who’d been complicit, though. The three men would be wound up in red tape for a long time to come. Meanwhile, the film was able to finish under the directorial guidance of a woman named Lan Iradia, who’d been about the quirkiest human being I’d ever met.
But she’d been a rule follower which was good enough for me.
As soon as filming wrapped, Finn had packed up his house, shipped everything to a storage unit in Aster Valley, and driven straight through until pulling into my driveway and flinging himself bodily at me.
I’d been on cloud nine ever since, but I hadn’t actually fully relaxed until he’d gotten the job as the head of the drama department at Aster Valley High. The look on his face had been enough to convince me this was it. He was here for good.
“We’d better get this show on the road,” Finn said. “Go find your seats.”
Tess grabbed my hand. “Come on, we saved you one with us.”
I squeezed her hand and asked for a minute before looking back at Finn and taking his hands in mine. “You’re going to be amazing. You are amazing. Your kindness and passion overwhelm me. Your love for others and for fun and growth and giving back…” I took a breath. “I am in awe of you, Finnegan Heller. And tonight is proof you can do anything you put your mind to. You have so much talent to share with the world, and this is just one of many, many examples.”
He scraped his lip with his teeth. “Damn you,” he breathed. “I hate you so much right now.”
I leaned in and pressed a long kiss against his cheek. We’d agreed a long time ago not to be too “ooey-gooey” in front of the kids while he was at work, but this was a moment that deserved coming close.
“I love you so much,” I whispered against his skin, the skin that felt warm and familiar against mine. That smelled like coffee, woodsmoke, and the floral shampoo he special-ordered from his stylist in LA. He smelled like comfort and home.
He smelled like mine.
And I was never letting him go.
“I love you, too, now go!” he said before turning and hustling away.
I took a minute to make sure his ass was to code before turning and allowing Tessa to lead me to our seats.
“Did you decide on a Christmas gift for him?” she asked softly without looking over at me.
“Yes. And it’s a good thing you reminded me to shop early. Mikey and Sam called to ask for security help with some big family reunion group that’s staying at the lodge this weekend.”
“What did you decide on?”
“A ring.”
Tessa had learned the art of the slow-pan from the master.
“Tell. Me. Everything.” She yanked me down in my seat and ignored Shawn on her other side.
My heart thumped excitedly in my chest. I couldn’t wait to see his face on Christmas morning when I asked him to be mine forever. “It’s black zirconium on the outside and rose gold on the inside.”
“Oooh! He’s going to flip.”
I nodded. He really was. “And I had it engraved with a Shakespeare quote from Taming of the Shrew.”
Tessa fluttered her hand over her heart where her own engagement ring sparkled under the bright auditorium house lights. We’d come a long way from our lonely single days in LA.