And he needed short and sweet, because he’d just received a text from Beah telling him she was back in Boston, back in her office down the hall. He couldn’t wait to see her and Ronan was running on about a new website designer.
Finn resisted the urge to bang his head against the desk and mentally begged Carrick to call an end to the meeting...
But chatty or not, Ronan was far happier than Finn had seen him in years. With the death of his wife, Thandi, Ronan had gone through hell and back, trying to raise his two boys while dealing with grief. Joa was breathing new life into Ronan, and his nephews and Finn would never be able to thank her enough. Sadie had also turned Carrick’s life upside down and inside out and both his brothers walked around with smirky, I’ve-got-the-world-in-my-hands grins.
They did, and Finn was happy for them. He was. And he was a little jealous his brothers had the guts to try again, to commit their lives to their women, to take the risk. He didn’t think he could do it. Not again. He’d tried once with Beah and failed.
But had he really tried? He hadn’t opened up to her, hadn’t given all of himself. He’d kept her at an emotional distance, running away from deep emotion, scared of being vulnerable and choosing numbness over the richness of loving and being loved.
What if he chose to be brave, what if they went all in and gave it another shot? Would he also end up sitting at this table with a sappy look on his face? God, he wanted that. He wanted the same happiness his siblings had.
Sure, it was a risk, his heart was on the line, as was Beah’s. Finn acknowledged she needed someone who could communicate, someone who could open up. He could try to be that man. Oh, he doubted he’d be Mr. Outgoing, but he could talk more. And more importantly, he would listen to Beah. Really listen, even when the conversation turned tough. If he could fling himself off a mountain only wearing a wingsuit, he could take a chance on love...
Because, yeah, he loved Beah.
Had he ever stopped? She’d always been on the periphery of his mind. Was that why he felt guilty every time he slept with someone who wasn’t her? Divorced or not, he still considered her his wife. His.
And if he didn’t make a move, do something to convince her to stay, in a few weeks—three to be precise—she would be back in London.
Finn didn’t know how he would function without having her in his life. And he wouldn’t be satisfied with a weekend here and four days there. He wanted to see her most days, to hold her when she slept, to wake up to her on weekdays as well as weekends. He needed to be in Boston; his family and his work were here. Would Beah consider relocating to Boston?
Would that even be a possibility?
If he told her he loved her, if he offered her more than sex—marriage? babies?—would she consider giving him another chance?
“There’s only one way to find out and that’s to ask.” Carrick’s words jerked Finn back to the conversation and he sent his brother a hard look.
“What did you say?” Finn demanded, needing to make sure he’d heard what he heard.
Carrick frowned at him. “If she isn’t asked, we won’t know the answer.”
Finn pushed his chair back so hard it slammed into the wall behind him. He slapped his hands on the desk and grinned at Carrick. “Exactly.”
Finn left his laptop and notes on the table and walked past Ronan to slap his hand on Carrick’s shoulder. “Thanks, brother.”
“Uh...for what?”
Finn didn’t bother answering him since Carrick wasn’t the person he needed to speak to. Talking to Beah was all-important.
Behind him, he heard Carrick’s dry comment. “I was talking about the new web designer but it’s pretty obvious our youngest brother wasn’t on the same page.”
“I agree,” Ronan replied, amused. “His light is on but someone is playing with his dimmer switch. And that’s not something I often get to say about our favorite genius.”
Finn hurried down the hallway to the office Beah had claimed as her own two months ago. He looked through the glass walls to the immaculate space beyond and saw Beah sitting at the large desk, tendrils of hair falling out of her loose bun, black-rimmed glasses on her nose. She was reading a thick document and her concentration was intense.
Finn stopped, jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocked on his heels. She was beautiful in an Irish goddess type of way, clear skin, fine features, that deep red hair. And while she was heart-stoppingly beautiful, he was also proud of the woman she’d become. She’d made a name for herself as being one of the best art consultants in the business and she’d done it with hard work and without name-dropping. Few people knew they’d once been married. No, Beah’s success had been all her own, and he was incredibly proud of her.
He also loved her, more than he ever did before.
Finn stepped up to her door, knocked and opened the glass door. Beah frowned at the interruption and then she smiled. It was a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Beah wasn’t as happy to see him as he was to see her—why not? His heart rate inched upward and his stomach pulled itself into a tight knot. Was he doing the right thing? Should he raise this love-and-staying-in-Boston question now or should he give her time to decompress, to relax? This was their workplace and maybe it wasn’t the right time or place...
Finn bent down to brush his lips across hers and when he pulled back, he saw a strange emotion in her eyes, one he couldn’t identify. Fear? Trepidation?
Or was he just seeing in her eyes what he thought might be in his?
“Hi, sweetheart.”