I leap up. “Nope! We’re done with the public part of the program. From now on, it’s all about locked doors. And privacy. And white noise machines,” I add sternly.
Finn gives me a seductive grin. “I can work with that.”
My phone buzzes. I check the text. It’s Lottie.
‘Bring pizza tonight! I need carbs 2 soak up all the booze in my body.’
I stare at it a moment, still dazed, then I remember. “I have plans tonight,” I tell Finn, with a pang of regret. “It’s Lottie’s real birthday, so we’re having a sleepover with Kit.”
“Pillow fights and painting your nails?” he teases, and I laugh.
“More like cleaning finger paint from the floor.” I tuck my phone away and reach for him. “Rain check on the locked doors?”
He kisses me. “You can bet on it.”
I finish up at the farm, then head home. As much as I’m already craving Finn again, I’m glad I have an excuse for some time away from him, to clear my head and remember how to breathe again.
He’s intoxicating. Just being with him sends me on a wilder high than I’ve ever experienced before. But I’ve learned the hard way, there’s no high in the world that doesn’t lead to a come down the next morning. Be it a killer hangover or worse, there’s always going to be a moment when the thrill fades away, leaving nothing but an empty ache in your bloodstream, and the restless need to escape all over again.
So is Finn just a temporary high, or something more? I want to ask him, and figure out what we’re doing here, but I’m scared, too. Scared that he won’t have any answers either, and this blissful reunion will hit the brakes, and fast.
And then he kisses me, and I don’t want anything except him.
But at least I don’t have to think about it tonight. I stop by the pizza place on my way back to town and pick up a couple of pies, then grab a few things from my place and head to Lottie’s. To my surprise, the house is quiet when I push open the front door. I stash the food in the kitchen, then head to her room. Lottie is napping on the bed, curled up with Kit sleeping soundly in her arms.
I smile. She looks so young like this, but there’s no mistaking the family resemblance between them, Kit’s copper curls blending into Lottie’s choppy strands. Again, an ache echoes through me, seeing them together like this.
She opens one eye, and sees me there.
“Hey,” Lottie smiles, whispering. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” I go sit on the bed beside her, keeping my voice down. I can’t resist taking one of Kit’s tiny balled up fists, and he curls it reflexively around my finger. “How did you get him to go down? I thought he hates afternoon naps.”
“I’m praying it’s a new habit.” Lottie eases into a sitting position. “Either that, or he knew I needed the snooze.” She yawns. “Call it a birthday miracle.”
She gets up, carefully placing Kit in the crib in the corner and tucking a light blanket around him. He lets out a burbling sound, and we both hold our breath, but then he stretches and continues to sleep.
“I’ll pay for it later,” Lottie says ruefully, setting the baby monitor and following me downstairs. “Unless you feel like getting up five times in the night?”
“I’ll do it,” I laugh. “Except he’ll be pretty disappointed when he wants to eat.”
“Good point.” Lottie hops up on a kitchen stool and yawns again.
“You really went hard last night, huh?” I tease. I get some plates down, and put the pizza in the oven to warm.
“I’m not the only one.” Lottie gives me a look. “Dee filled me in on all your fun.” I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. She laughs. “I knew it! I knew something was going on with you guys.” She pauses, her smile fading. “So does this mean he finally explained what happened when he left?”
I look up, surprised. “What do you know about that?” I never told Lottie about seeing Finn back then, or even how my heart broke all those years ago. I thought I’d kept my secrets hidden, but the sympathetic expression on her face says I wasn’t as careful as I thought.
“I was fourteen, Eva. I wasn’t blind. You think I didn’t see you sneaking off to meet him? Half the time, I’d have to cover with mom and dad. And then, after he left, you cried yourself to sleep every night for a month. Thin walls,” she adds, apologetic.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
She looks away, awkward. “You were pretty secretive back then. You didn’t really open up and talk to me. I know I was just a kid to you,” she adds. “But I wanted to help.”
Of course she did. But Lottie’s right – I didn’t confide in her, or anyone. Maybe it would have been easier if I had. Then I wouldn’t have felt so alone, driven to extremes to deal with the grief I could never put into words.