Page 34 of Better Luck Next Time

Running into Adalia at the coffee shop yesterday and outside Lola’s shop today…it felt like it meant something. And the fact that she’d chosen the exact same restaurant he’d gone to with River last night? That only added to the feeling of weirdness. The feeling of fate tugging at him.

Because, if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t just have a casual interest in Adalia Buchanan. Nor was he on some martyr’s mission to convince her to embrace her art. He wasinterestedin her. Enthralled by her, in a way he couldn’t remember feeling before. And Finn had dated a lot of women.But he’d never thought about any of them the way he did Adalia.

Didn’t matter. That Alan asshole had hurt Adalia in a deep way. It was going to take her time to bounce back, and to his surprise, he cared more about her bouncing back than he did about having her in the show. More than he did about giving in to the consuming desire to touch her curls. To kiss her. He longed to tell her that she was somebody of worth—deep worth—whether or not she ever made another piece of art. But he wanted to encourage her to express herself anyway, because it was clearly part of who she was, even if she chose not to show it. Even if she felt compelled to destroy it.

Maybe Adalia thought he was the kind of man who took what he wanted, whatever it cost, but that wasn’t totally true. Other people mattered to him. He couldn’t be happy if he raked in a big prize at the expense of someone he cared about. This whole Big Catch situation had taught him that, if nothing else.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said softly, still holding Adalia.

“But we didn’t finish the margaritas,” she objected, slurring her words slightly.

“I think it’s time for me to get you home,” he said.

“No,” she said, pulling away. “I don’t want Jack to see me like this.”

“It’s only three o’clock. Jack’s probably still at work,” he said wryly. “I can sneak you up to your room, and he’ll be none the wiser.”

Of course, Jack might have chosen to stay home after finishing their little project earlier, and he probably wouldn’t be grateful that Finn had helped her get soused.

There was also the logistical problem of getting there. He wasn’t confident he could get her to walk that far, and while he wasn’t as drunk as she was, he was in no condition to drive.

“Let’s just stay here,” she said.

It was tempting. He didn’t want to let go of her. He didn’t want her to snap out of it and remember that he was the bigmouth who’d spilled her secret. That he was someone unworthy of her trust.

But her eyes were fluttering in a way that suggested she probably wouldn’t be awake for much longer, plus the waitress was already giving him looks that indicated she thought he was a weirdo for coming back for lunch eighteen hours after he’d left for dinner. If his companion fell asleep in the booth, she’d probably assume he was angling to move in.

So he called the person who’d always been there for him, with the exception of those several weeks after he’d screwed everything up.

By the time River showed up, Finn had paid the bill, and Adalia was snoozing against his shoulder. The waitress’s eyes bugged out a bit when she saw River had returned too.

“I’m glad y’all like our food so much,” she said, “but we’re closing for the two hours between lunch and dinner. Maybe you can come back for dinner service?” The suggestion seemed to pain her.

“I’m just here to get them,” River said, gesturing to Finn and Adalia. He didn’t look as pissed as Finn had feared, but he didn’t seem exactly pleased either.

“Okay,” the waitress said, her tone indicating she still had plenty of questions that she’d happily keep to herself so long as they left.

“I told Jack to distract Georgie,” River said. “She’s intent on cheering Addy up, and if she sees her like this…”

“She’ll assume the worst,” Finn agreed. “But I think this was what Adalia needed, in a weird way. She told me why she’s been tearing up her art.”

“You know about the arrest?” River asked, surprised.

Finn just nodded, because he didn’t want to risk telling him anything he didn’t already know. He felt protective of what Adalia had shared, enough so that he didn’t feel the usual compulsion to let the information leak out of him like he was a faulty balloon.

“She hasn’t even told Jack or their other brother, Lee,” River commented, and Finn felt a warm glow inside of him. Despite everything, she’d chosenhimto trust. Him to tell. He couldn’t betray that. He wouldn’t.

“Well, let’s get her home,” River said. “Dottie already left for their house to fix her a hangover cure.”

“Don’t you need to stop being drunk to be hung over?” Finn asked.

A corner of River’s mouth kicked up. “I guess we’re about to find out.”

River offered to help carry Adalia out to the car, but Finn shook his head and cradled her in his arms. She only stirred once, but she didn’t say anything, just made a satisfied sound, like a cat in a patch of sunlight, and settled in deeper. It was like he was her safe place, and he felt the glow inside of him grow a little bigger and brighter. They laid her out in the back seat, securing the middle belt around her, and River set off at a slow speed, careful not to jolt her.

“So,” River said after a while. “You finally went to see Dottie’s psychic, huh?”

Finn might have overexplained a little in his (multiple) texts, telling River about the random run-in with Adalia, her decision to sit in on his reading, and the fact that the reading had driven them both to drink.

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