Page 102 of Better Luck Next Time

“So…” he started. Then, because there was no good way of bringing up the man who’d trampled her heart and stolen her sculptures, he took the direct approach. “What’s going on with Alan? He’s been texting you again, hasn’t he?” The look on her face made it clear that she intended to shut down this line of conversation quickly, so he said, “Please, Adalia. I want to know what’s going on. I want to help you. I think Ineedto.”

But it was clear he’d said the wrong thing, again, because she had an almost panicked look in her eyes now.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” she said. Then she took a big bite of the dinner, made a face, and set down her fork. “Turns out there’s a reason people don’t combine these particular ingredients.”

He wanted to press her, but he suspected she’d react badly. That she’d lash out or maybe leave, and he didn’t want that. But the mystery of what had happened with Alan weighed on him, like that Greek guy who’d had to carry that huge round rock around on his back. No, it was a globe, wasn’t it? Anyway, it wasn’t good. A little more of the spell from earlier lifted. The world was creeping back in, and he didn’t like it—even if he was the one who’d triggered it.

Did Alan want her back? The text Finn had seen the other week certainly suggested it. He didn’t think Adalia would ever consider that, but if not, what was going on?

“You know,” Adalia said, her voice slightly playful again, though it felt a little forced, like she was auditioning for a part. “You owe me for sending me to that stained glass artist on Monday. She’s taken it upon herself to send me daily horoscopes by text. Apparently, I’m at risk of being eaten by wolves today.” She waggled her brows up and down.

“Ha,” he said. “Thanks for meeting with them. Speaking of which, would you be interested in taking on a bigger role for the show? I know we were going to do this as co-chairs, but I’m going to have less time coming up than I originally thought, and I was wondering if you’d like to bemyboss.”

She had a crestfallen look, and it occurred to him that he hadn’t offered her any compensation for her time. While he hadn’t planned on taking a salary for himself, it wasn’t rational of him to expect Adalia would continue donating her time, especially with an expanded role. He’d planned for that, but he hadn’t said anything about it to her.

“I don’t expect you to do it for nothing,” he said hurriedly. “I was thinking we’d build in a stipend for you. If you’re willing. I know you’re working on the branding stuff for Buchanan, and it’s totally fine if you don’t want to do it or don’t have time. I can find someone else to take point.”

“Why aren’t you going to have time? Did you decided to take that job in Charlotte after all?” she asked, her face unnaturally pale. She cinched the shirt closed, as if she no longer wanted to be revealed to him.

“No,” he gushed out, horrified.

He was going about this all wrong. He hadn’t even told her about his idea yet, and he’d meant to do that first, before bringing up the show. Except he was nervous, and his brain was skipping around, and it had skipped right past the point.

“You see, you inspired me. You and Sean and Mo, the guys from Charlotte Robotics, and even Gretchen from Bev Corp. I realized that I don’t want to work at just one company. You told me I was a creator, and I couldn’t see it at first. But you were right.” He smiled a little. “You’re right a lot of the time. The part I’ve always liked best is creating—building a company up and helping it be all it can be. So why not do that all the time? I’m going to start a consulting company, right here in Asheville, and it looks like Charlotte Robotics is going to be my first client. Well, them and Bev Corp, I guess.”

But he didn’t see any relief or excitement in her eyes. Her expression was guarded in a way it hadn’t been since they first met.

“So youareworking for them?”

“No, not in the way you’re thinking,” he rushed to say. “I’m not taking the role they offered me, but I’m going to generate a launch strategy for them. They won’t be my only clients, though. I’m going to find office space here in Asheville, and hopefully I can recruit another couple of consultants to join me.”

“So…all of that buildup for the show, everything you said to convince me to participate, and now you’re not going to have time for it anymore. Just like that?”

He didn’t miss the bite behind her tone.

“I wanted to do it for you,” he blurted out, and before the words were out, he knew he’d ripped an even bigger hole into the bubble they’d been in today. So he tried to talk fast and seam it up. “No, not just for you. I think the show is going to be really great, and I’ve loved working with you on it—I’ve never had more fun in my life—but let’s be honest, I don’t have the expertise to push it to the finish line. You’re a better fit. I think I’ve always known that on some level. But I still want to do this with you. I just won’t have as much time to meet with the artists.”

“And here I am, little old Addy, with tons of free time on her hands.” She pushed back in the chair, crossing her arms over her chest, and while he was no body language expert, it seemed fairly clear as far as signs went. “I didn’t know you feltsorryfor me, Finn. I don’t need people fighting my battles or inventing jobs for me. Whether or not you realize it, I can take care of myself. But the last thing I’d do is let down Blue and the other artists, so sure, I’ll do it.”

Silence hung between them for a moment, but only because Finn couldn’t think of a single way to improve upon it. He hadn’t intended for her to think any of those things. He’d wanted to let her know how much she meant to him—how much he respected her opinion and vision. Instead, she thought he was some micromanaging jerk.

And isn’t there a grain of truth to that?a voice in his head argued.What kind of nutjob sets up a charity art show so he’ll have an excuse to talk to a woman?

Except that wasn’t the full story either. It was part of it, he wouldn’t deny that, but he had thought of the art show because he believed in Adalia, and because she’d made him appreciate art in a way he had never experienced before. She had broadened his horizons and challenged him, and he’d wanted to pass that favor on to other people.

Finally, he found words. “I’ve never once felt sorry for you. You’re not the kind of person Icouldfeel sorry for. And no, Adalia, I don’t want to fight your battles, but I would like it if you’d let me be a part of them. If I could maybe fight by your side.” He paused. “I’d like to at leastknowabout them.”

For a moment, conflict raged in her eyes—he’d gotten through to her, whether she wanted to admit it or not—but then they hardened. “Well, we all want something, Finn, but that sure as hell doesn’t mean we’re going to get it.”

She got up and made for the stairs, then turned back around and blew out the candles before stomping her way upstairs, her perfect butt taunting him with every step.

Jezebel stalked toward the table, leapt onto Adalia’s chair in one perfect, fluid movement, and studied him with something like distaste. She was Beau Buchanan’s cat, and it almost felt like Adalia’s grandfather was taking him to task for screwing up, a thought that gave him the chills. He shook it off, telling himself he’d been listening to too many of Dottie’s superstitious notions lately.

“I know,” he said. “I said the wrong thing.” Her look sharpened. “Okay, the wrong things, plural. No need to rub it in.”

Except it might not matter what he said. Maybe he’d been right in the beginning, and Adalia wasn’t ready for another relationship. For all he knew, she wasn’t over Alan. Maybe they really were communicating. The thought made him want to crush the guy—not literally, Finn wasn’t that kind of person—but he would savor revealing Alan Stansworth’s sins to the world.

Finn knew how much it could hurt to be seen.

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