Page 42 of Can't Help Falling

Her mind flashed back to her evening. To the meal that Tyler had cooked for her. Good, solid home cooking. She’d left without saying goodbye.

Frowning to herself, Fin fixed a cup of her personal blend of sleepytime tea, and grabbed a chocolate Popsicle from her freezer.

She settled into her living room and pulled out her laptop to watch some Netflix. Pulling up a rom-com she’d seen a hundred times before, Fin settled back, not needing a blanket in her hot apartment, but feeling cuddled up all the same. She delighted in the simple pleasure of a swallow of hot tea followed by a lick of cold Popsicle.

What more could she want—

Tyler is a really good person.

Mary’s voice suddenly echoed in Fin’s head and she frowned.

Blind spot, Mary had said.

Blind spot about what? Tyler? Who he really was?

She frowned.

Going back over the night in her head, she zoomed back to the dinner, where Tyler had barely said two words. His hair had been perfect, his face shaved, his collared shirt immaculately ironed. Had she let all that fool her into missing the dark circles under his eyes? The way his shoulders had sagged?

He’d grocery shopped for that meal. Fresh ingredients. She’d seen the recipe book open on the counter. He’d made it. From scratch. For his sister and for her.

Why, oh, why, did she continually think of him as a selfish person?

Tyler really is a good person.

If she’d seen a still of that night, instead of having sat there in person, she’d have seen an overworked guardian doing his best to make things all right for his sister. And honestly, his best wasn’t too shabby.

He could have been serving Kylie microwaved meals, and Fin wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But he wasn’t. He was taking her to basketball games. He was allowing Fin to get to know her. He was grocery shopping, home cooking dinners on school nights.

Was it possible that she really thought so little of a man simply because he’d asked her out on a date months ago? It was depressing to think that all it took to plummet her opinion of someone was them proclaiming interest in her. What did that even say about her?

Fin got up, went to her coat closet and dug her cell phone out of her coat pocket. Finishing the Popsicle off in one last chunk, she huffed herself back to the couch, frowning at her phone, at herself, at this entire predicament.

She pulled up Tyler’s number and sent a quick text.

I just wanted to say thank you for dinner. It was delicious. Sorry I didn’t help with dishes. And sorry I left without saying goodbye.

There. Simple as that. She sent the text and waited for the weight of her uncomfortable guilt to alleviate a little bit.

It didn’t.

Still frowning, she turned back to the movie and tried to lose herself in it.

She jolted when her phone buzzed a second later. She was surprised he’d texted back so quickly. She thought for sure he’d either still be snoozing on his couch or passed out in bed by now.

You’re welcome. And don’t worry. I didn’t expect you to do the dishes.

Hmm? Maybe he was one of those people who didn’t like guests to putter around in his space—

You don’t exactly strike me as the housework type.

His second text came in and a yelp of outrage escaped Fin. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she muttered as she quickly typed the words and sent them off.

Moments later he’d texted back. Oh, come on. Don’t pretend that right this very minute you aren’t laying on a cushion held up by four shirtless men feeding you grapes and fanning you.

Despite herself, she laughed aloud. I think you’re confusing me with Cleopatra.

She looked around her small, clean apartment. In reality, she spent a lot of time on housework, despite the occasionally rock-dusty kitchen. She very much believed in “cluttered space, cluttered mind.” And though she had a lot of knickknacks, decorations and emblems around her house, everything was in its right place.

---