“I love it when you talk dirty,” Dee laughs, arm around her on the other side. She holds up her phone to take a pic. “Now everyone smile and say, ‘frosting!”
The crowd cheers and applauds as Lottie blows out the candles – every last one. “Lucky escape,” Delilah laughs. Lottie grins, her eyes going to that Sam guy.
“I don’t know, I might try the creek out – after another few drinks.”
I remember her birthday last year, how tired and stressed she was. Kit wasn’t feeding properly, and we barely had time for some takeout and five minutes of a DVD before he bawled his eyes out, demanding her harried attention again. I feel a wave of pride at how far she’s come. For all my anxiety about Finn, I’m glad she’s getting the night of fun and sparkle she deserves.
Lottie cuts into the cake, and everyone breaks out in a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’. She laughs, and takes a bow, but when the final chords die away, she hones in on Finn. “Will you play something?” she begs. “Pretty please?”
He looks bashful.
“C’mon,” Delilah joins the cause. “Just one song. You’re the big superstar, after all. And it is her birthday.”
“Guys,” I murmur, uncomfortable. “He’s done enough already.”
“It’s fine.” Finn smiles at me. “Hold on.” He leaves the room, and comes back a moment later with his guitar slung around his neck. He strums a couple of chords, and the room quiets. All eyes are on him. “Any requests?”
Lottie claps her hands together in glee. “Seriously? Oh my God. Dee,” she hisses. “You better be filming this!”
“Got it!” Delilah holds up her phone.
“Can you play ‘Sometimes’?” Lottie asks. “It’s my favorite.”
“For the birthday girl, anything.”
I watch as Finn strums the guitar, adjusting the fret, like he’s pulling on an old jacket that fits just right. Then he starts to play, a familiar melody I recognize as his first big hit. It’s sweet and slow, a melancholy song, and the notes slip through the crowded room, changing the mood in an instant.
I feel an ache. He looks so at ease, even the center of attention like this, holding that guitar like its an extension of his body, a spare limb he knows by heart.
He found the thing he loves most in the world, and he made a life of it. He made it count.
Finn opens his mouth, and that whiskey sweet voice begins to sing, deep and rich. I feel it melt all the way down my spine.
“Sometimes when the night is over, and I’m back in someone else’s bed. I think of you, and that pale sweet reflection, and I’m here wishing I was with you instead.”
He looks up, and his eyes catch mine across the room. I freeze, my heart suddenly in my throat as he sings – to me. The crowd melts away, and for a moment, it’s just the two of us, the words strung between us like a message.
Or an apology?
My pulse thunders in my ears, but I can’t look away. I never let myself believe any of his songs were about me. I couldn’t drive myself crazy looking for clues in his lyrics like that for long, but now, here, the emotion and regret of the song hit me like a bullet.
Was he really singing about me all this time?
Finn’s eyes are on me still, but I can’t read the expression in their ocean-blue depths. He’s a showman, I remind myself. He’s used to playing for a crowd, giving them what they want from a performance, making every woman in the room feel like he’s singing just for them.
So why does it feel like he really means it, this time?
“And I’m here wishing I was with you instead.”
The final line echoes softly, and the music drifts away. Finn gives me a smile, not the flashy, crowd-pleasure grin, but something quieter. Just for me. My emotions storm in my chest, and suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. I turn and slip through the crowd, leaving them clustered around him and cheering for more.
“Encore!” they cry, and Finn strikes up another song, this one fast, upbeat. I hurry away, heading blindly through the house until I find a quiet corner in the kitchen to hide. A couple of caterers give me a curious look, but nobody bothers me as I pull a cold bottle of water from a cooler and drink, trying to cool down.
Finn’s made it clear he wants me, my body, that inferno between us; everything he used to command with just a look, a lightning touch. But is that enough for me? Every time I’m near him, I feel swept up in this hurricane of desire. It feels inevitable, unstoppable, but I know that’s just a lie I’ve been telling to myself. If I was really determined, I could still call this whole thing off, stay away from him for real this time. Shut myself away, and avoid the heartache I can see hurtling towards me, full-speed ahead.