Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“I think he is.”
“It’s not yet two in the afternoon. Does he know it’s not the 1930s? And this isn’t his living room?”
Evie laughs. “You know, I think Fin has one just the same.”
“I think I want a divorce,” I say, scrunching my nose.
“Did he steal anything? While you were on the resort, I mean.”
“Fin?” I shake my head. “I thought he owned the place.” Major shareholder, she’d said.
“That never stopped him before. Fin is . . . light fingered, but only from large venues and corporate events. Places he’s already paid a fortune to be, now that I think of it. It’s not like he needs the things he steals, which is usually something inconsequential—like a bottle of liquor. There was a deck chair once, I seem to recall. I think he enjoys the thrill of being caught.”
My brows lift into my hairline. It feels odd that this is something I don’t know. You have a lifetime for discovery, something whispers inside me. I bite back my smile.
“How are things going between you both, anyway?”
“With our pretend marriage?” I say, lowering my voice.
“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”
“Well.” Yes, because that’s how we sold it to them. That’s what I expected it to be, but things have changed. Almost without me realizing.
“We see the way you both are. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed us grinning like crazy grinning things. When you came to dinner, even Oliver noticed Fin hanging on your every word.”
“I don’t know . . .” what to say. I need to straighten this out with Fin before I say anything.
“I never bought it, you know. You two pretending that you’d never met.”
“Does Oliver grin?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Oliver’s face is at its most animated when watching his friend fall in love.” Then she cackles uproariously. “He tries, bless him. Or is it he’s trying?” She laughs again. “But Fin never behaved with women like he does with you. It’s not just the loving looks and tiny touches; it’s in the things he says too. He treats you like you’re one of us, except we don’t get adoring looks. The teasing, I mean,” she adds as I stare back blankly.
Because he does tease me. And I dish it back. Is that part of his love language? Along with the stuff he says to me, the compliments he pays me. In and out of the bedroom. And the things he does for me—the things he wants to do for me. Even when he worries I might be taking advantage of him. That I might be using him.
Oh, my. Fucking hell.
“Are you okay?” Evie asks as I press my hand to my heart.
“Yes, fine.” But I am not fine. And suspect I won’t be until I’m with Fin.
“The thing is,” she begins again, her tone careful as she holds my gaze. “I wanted to apologize for ragging on him that day. Look, you obviously know about his past, but I shouldn’t have brought it up. I suppose I was teasing him, which is what we do. But it was also about you.”
“You were testing me, you mean.”
“It didn’t put you off! Fin is charming and fun, and women just adore him. And he’s adored his fair share of women, but he’s never loved any of them. Has he . . . told you he loves you yet?”
I shake my head. “Not in so many words.”
“But he’s shown you.”
My gaze drops to my lap.
“I know at first glance it appears he wears his heart on his sleeve, but he’s much more guarded than that. And I can’t claim to know why that is; I just know if you give him the chance, he’d be the best husband there is. Oliver aside, of course.”
Coffee arrives, and the talk turns to lighter topics before I need to catch my train back to East London. Duty and the flat call.
“He really did just give you my card?” I ask as I stand and gather my things.
“Fin didn’t ask me to employ you as my wedding planner,” she replies. “And he really had no idea about our last-minute plans. I did intend on getting married that day, you know. I didn’t hire you to marry you off to Fin.”
“No, of course. No one could’ve foreseen—”
Evie puts her hand to my forearm. “That sounds like a two-bottle-of-wine story.”
“It is a bit.” I scrunch my nose even as my insides flip with delight.
“Check your diary and text me a date, because this is a story I’m desperate to hear.” Her gaze dips as I realize the dog, Bo, is circling us like a shark. “He heard wine,” she explains. “He knows it pairs well with cheese. And that doggies get to implement a cheese tax. Right, boy?”
Bo barks, and Evie laughs, sliding her arm through mine. “It’s about time there was a little more femininity added to the friendship group.”