I’m not trying to put myself down. I like me. I really do. But after seeing what the other women wore, and how hard Finn fought to win, tonight, I wanted to be something more than his cute girlfriend. I wanted to be a woman who could rival, or at least, somewhat fit in with the other ladies who run in the MMA circles.
While he met with the press, Sofia and Wren hurried back to the hotel with me and into one of the trendier boutiques, minutes before it closed. There was nothing to the strapless black cocktail dress I found, but that didn’t make it any less lovely. Yet the shoes Wren picked out took it from elegant to downright alluring.
The glittery charcoal heels sparkle even in the tame lobby light. Both were way more than I could afford. But it was important for me to look good on Finn’s arm. And after seeing how tempting the other women dressed, my jeans and blouse weren’t cutting it.
I meant to put it on a credit card, but Wren beat me to it, paying cash. When I tried to protest, she shook her head. “It’s on Finn. He told me to buy you anything you wanted.”
The gesture left me speechless. Finn has paid for dinner, movies, that sort of thing. For someone as proud as me though, even that has been hard to accept. But Wren wouldn’t take no for an answer, and the boutique owner liked the idea of cash. She encouraged Wren when she dragged me to the fitting room to change into what has to be the most stylish dress I’ll ever own.
“Have I told you how sexy you look?” he mutters in my ear as we wait for the elevator.
“No,” I murmur. I smile as my arms circle his waist. He didn’t tell me, but the way his eyes flew open when he saw me return to the press conference assured me he liked my new clothes.
“Well, you do,” he assures me. “What I didn’t like was how those assholes were looking at you when you danced.”
I tilt my chin so I can see his face. “I didn’t notice them. I was too busy watching my hot boyfriend.”
A smirk finds its way into his face. “Even with the bruises?”
“Yes,” I answer, even though it was hard watching him receive them.
Following a quick shower, and before he met with the press, Finn changed into a dress shirt and slacks. His camp is trying to give him a more professional persona following the incident that landed him in counseling. But even without these fancier clothes Finn is gorgeous.
His hands slip beneath my coat. “Did you have fun?”
“I did,” I admit, despite that this lifestyle is very much new to me.
Following dinner with his family, we attended a small after-party thrown at a club by his sponsor Lethal Punch. Rather than cling to Finn the entire time like I wanted to, I danced with his family and his friends’ wives. MMA is a business, but also a circus in itself. It was almost midnight when his fight started, and while he won his match incredibly fast, it was almost two in the morning when we finally sat down to eat.
It’s nice being in A.C. with Finn and his family like this, regardless of the fast-pace. Or should I say, it’s a blessing to feel normal, to have fun and pretend like my life isn’t as bad as it’s been. Yet as much as I’m enjoying our time together, I can’t help feeling guilty. For all I want to support Finn, it cost me experiencing my mother’s moment of clarity. I only pray she allows me a glimpse of it soon. I want my mother back. Is it too much to ask to see her as she once was, even for a little while?
“You okay, sunshine?” Finn asks as we step into the elevator.
I nod, trying to smile. This is his night, a moment to celebrate his victory and his hard work, not a time for me to dwell on my problems or wonder what awaits me when I return to reality. I push up on my toes and kiss his chin. “Of course. I’m here with you.”
It’s my last remark that adds to my grin, drawing Finn closer and tempting him to play. His hands trail down to my butt as the doors shut, circling and reminding me that our night is far from over.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks.
He caught enough in my expression to know my mind had wandered elsewhere. But like I mentioned, I won’t take anything away from his night. He’s earned every bit of good that’s happening, and all that’s left to come.
My fingers glide along his temple. The multiple bruises swelling his cheekbones and jaw, keep my motions gentle, but the love I feel is completely there. “You weren’t supposed to let anything happen to this face,” I remind him.
“I told you I wouldn’t be able to keep that promise,” he says. “But I kept the one that mattered and won the fight.”
He did, and he was incredible to watch. Each strike seemed so effortless, despite the power he packed behind every punch. That didn’t make watching any easier, but it did add to my awe of him.
“Still like the face?” he asks as my fingers linger over his skin.