I’m not sure what I’m looking at. When I make no move to read it she says, “Huffington Post picked up the story I wrote about you for Trend Chaser. This is fantastic exposure, Finn.” She rolls the mouse over a picture of me in my Landsharks uniform, clicks, and an article pops up.
I’m frozen.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. “I promise I only wrote good things,” she teases.
My pulse quickens as I squint at the screen, the words scrambled and jumping around in a dizzying pattern. The typeface is confusing, the letters bunched together. My head starts to ache, the thought of focusing on any kind of text soul-destroying—after pushing myself until my leg muscles burned, I’m too worn out to concentrate on reading.
“Finn?” Chloe’s gentle tone is laced with concern.
I hate it. I hate her worry. I hate being caught unaware like this. She can take her surprise back where she came from and go home. “Email me the link, will you? I need to shower.” I don’t wait for her to respond. I don’t dare look at her. I don’t say thank you when I know I should. Smoothie in hand, I stride out of the kitchen and I don’t stop until I reach my bathroom where I plan to stand under a hot shower until it turns cold.
Chloe
I have noidea what just happened. One minute, Finn and I are joking around and the next he up and leaves the room like I’ve committed some major sin against him. I didn’t tell him about the article sooner because he doesn’t have to know every detail of my job. He didn’t hire me, the Landsharks did, and it’s safe to say when I’m not with him, I’m still working on his behalf.
“What is his problem, Sammy?” The cutest puppy on the planet doesn’t bother looking up from gnawing on the new bone I left for her on her dog pillow.
“She’s yet to answer any of my questions either,” Sylvie says, startling me when she walks back into the room. The woman has serious ninja skills. I never hear her coming or going.
“Can I askyouthe same question?” I say on impulse.
Sylvie leans a hip against the counter. Her dark hair is pulled into a bun, her soft, round face is free of makeup. She could pass for forty even though I think she’s closer to sixty. Kindness exudes from her, and has since the moment we met. “What happened?”
“I showed Finn this article I wrote—” I nod at my computer “—and he brushed it off with barely an acknowledgment and zero thanks. I don’t need his approval or praise, but a little gratitude would have been nice. He left the room like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. This is what Rena and the team want from me, but ultimately I want Finn to be happy with what I’m doing, so if he has a problem with something he needs to tell me so I can bring it up to the powers that be.” I’m rambling, but keep going. “I get that he’s been in the media spotlight a million times, and he might be tired of it, but I’ve researched previous stories on him, and I wrote something different. He could have at least read the first paragraph or something.”
“May I?” she asks, turning my laptop toward her.
“Sure.”
While she reads the article, I wash out my coffee mug and place it on the drying rack then scroll through stuff on my phone. I’m not sure if Finn’s quick exit implied I should leave or wait for him to come back downstairs, but I’m leaning toward going. This is the second time his mood has swung fast enough to give me whiplash, and I have no idea what to make of it. I’m used to seeing him composed and ultra-confident on the baseball field, like nothing can touch him.
“You’re a gifted writer,” Sylvie says a few minutes later. “This was a smart and thoughtful piece and you should feel proud of yourself.”
“Thank you,” I say with heartfelt appreciation.
“If I may speak on Finn’s behalf, I think he’d agree.”
I frown. Meaning he won’t bother to read it himself? Not that hehasto. I wanted him to, is all. To see what I’m capable of. To see what an impact I can—and want—to make on his behalf.
Finn’s fancy iPhone rings from across the counter. It stops. Rings again. Sylvie walks over, glances down at the screen and picks it up. “Hello, Liza.”
Finn’s mom.
“I’m good. You?”
I quit out of the internet, close my laptop.
“Yes, as usual your son is nowhere near his phone.” Sylvie glances at me. I mouthin the shower. “He’s upstairs and when I saw your name I wanted to make sure everything was okay… Tonight’s gala, yes I’ll remind him… His date?”
My chin drops and I study my knees. Finn has a date tonight? I mean, of course he dates. He’s a sports celebrity after all, and along with his brothers, the three of them are the most eligible bachelors on the West Coast.
“Rosemary mentioned his social media manager, Chloe?”
I jerk my head up. Sylvie looks both surprised and delighted. I’m not sure what to make of that.
“She’s right here actually. Would you like to ask her yourself? Sure. Hold on.” Sylvie hands me the phone. “Finn’s mom.”
“Hello?”