Page 54 of Strictly Business

“Why were you ignoring him?” She asks picking up her fork.

“Cait, he knows.”

“Knows what?”

“Last Friday, David cornered me in SoHo and Finn ran into us on the street. He knows.”

“Holy shit.”

The pit in my stomach continues to grow bigger and bigger.

“Wait, did he tell Josh?”

“No, not yet anyway,” I sigh. “He came over to check on me, one thing led to another and… I doesn’t matter. I told him we need to forget whatever that was.”

“You like him!”

“No.”

“Yes, you do. Oh my God, you like Finn.” Caitlin’s smile grows with each word.

“No, I don’t. He’s a grade-A asshole.” I take a drink of wine.

Caitlin sighs, “Well, you told him to forget it — not the other way around.”

“I didn’t tell him to go back to his old ways.”

“I guess he took it literally.”

"I didn’t mean it literally." I thought it was best if we pretended like nothing happened, even if those nights we spent together are something I’ll never forget.

“I’m just saying, he’s a man, they’re not mind readers even if we want them to be.”

“If he was a mind reader, he’d know I didn’t mean it.” My eyes widen at the admission. Shit, I didn’t mean to say that. God, I have to stop doing that. “Shut up, Cait,” I say when she smirks.

“I didn’t say a thing.”

Cait turns when I walk out of the restaurant, she tries to hide her smirk. I swear, she’s had one on her face from the moment I told her about Finn round two. “You missed a call.”

“Whoever it is, I’ll call them back tomorrow.” I pull my jacket over my shoulders before taking my purse from her. I’m trying to maintain the good mood spending time with my best friend has put me in. Whatever disaster needs fixing can be handled in the morning.

“Sure about that?”

“Yes.” I eye her suspiciously. “Why?” She hands over my phone, her smirk now on full display. When I click on my home screen, my eyes widen at the top notification: 1 Missed Call: Finn. (Yes, I changed his name from Jabba to Finn. I thought it was time, right?) Why is he calling me?

“I think you should call him back.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. He most likely wants to bitch at me about not telling my parents about the divorce yet.”

“Michaela. Call him.”

Before I can second guess it, I click his name, and it rings…and rings…and rings. It's not that important if he can't even answer when I—

“Where are you?” His gruff voice sounds over the speaker.

“Hello to you too?” I scoff.

“Are you home?”

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