Page 81 of Can't Help Falling

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A WEEKLATER, Tyler was trying not to be disappointed as he stood in Via and Seb’s kitchen, Matty and Mary chatting away at the counter, Seb canoodling with Via while she attempted to wash lettuce for their salad.

Fin wasn’t there. And now, only in the face of the brick wall of his disappointment could Tyler admit that he’d maybe been kinda, sorta looking forward to seeing her there tonight.

They hadn’t seen one another since he’d put her in that cab last weekend.

January had slammed the door on its way out, dumping eight inches of snow, followed by two hours of freezing rain, and then plunging New York into what felt like subzero temperatures for almost a week straight. Everyone in the city was living in enough layered clothing that it took at least four minutes to undress for bed each night. Tyler hadn’t seen his own skin in five days. Well, except for showers.

And now, here they were in February. The grayest, coldest month of the year, where all there was to look forward to was fudging on New Year’s resolutions and maybe happening to see Fin at a friend’s dinner. Where she then didn’t show up for no good reason at all.

Well, maybe she had a great reason. But he’d be damned if he’d ask.

“Where’s Fin tonight?” Mary asked, looking up from the puzzle she and Matty were dominating on the kitchen table.

Tyler could have kissed her. Not wanting to appear too eager to hear the answer, he walked to the fridge and helped himself to a beer.

“She...had other plans,” Via replied. Was it his imagination or had Via’s eyes flicked over to him?

“She had that date,” Kylie called from the front door as she came in from the cold. Tyler did everything in his power not to freeze and cock an ear. He really did not want to look like a wolf scenting an enemy on the wind. He wanted any mentions of Fin and dates to leave his fur decidedly unruffled. “Remember, Mary? She told us about it this week at the store?” Kylie came into the kitchen, her nose pink and Tyler’s red stocking cap clashing gorgeously with her coppery hair. She was holding a fresh bottle of olive oil in her hand.

“Thanks for going to get that, Ky,” Seb said, taking the olive oil from her and immediately shoving a cup of hot cider into her hands. “Even if you don’t want to drink it, just hold it in your hands for a minute—I’m getting cold just looking at you.”

“He always says that to me too,” Matty groused without looking up from the puzzle. “It doesn’t make sense. You can’t get cold from looking.”

“You can when you’re looking at pink toes on freezing-cold linoleum,” Seb replied in an equally grousy tone.

“I’m sensing you’ve had this conversation before,” Kylie said, a small smile on her face as she sipped her cider and went to the table with Matty and Mary, peering down at the puzzle as she sat.

The date!Tyler wanted to shout. Am I the only one who hasn’t lost my mind here? Why isn’t anyone asking about this freaking date?

But alas, no one asked. Either all of them already had the info on said date, or they just plain didn’t care.

Who didn’t care about the dates their friends went on?he demanded angrily in his head as he helped set the table, carted plates of food into the dining room and then as he stabbed at the manicotti Via had prepared. Everyone else chatted happily over dinner while Tyler stewed. What kind of friends were these people that they didn’t even ask? Fin could be on a date with a psycho right now and they’d all just be dipping bread in olive oil and quizzing Matty on state capitals like a bunch of...like a bunch of normal people who weren’t in danger of being much too interested in Fin, he eventually had to admit to himself.

There wasn’t something wrong with every other person at this table. There was something wrong with him. Because Fin was a thirtysomething woman on a date. It wasn’t a national headline, for god sakes. It barely even registered on the gossip Richter scale. The only reason it mattered to Tyler was because he was the idiot who was somehow still letting shit like this matter.

Even though she’d told him in no uncertain terms that they weren’t and would never be a match. Even though she was only hanging out with him these days because she and Kylie were becoming closer. Even though she laughed and ate cake and drank beer and laughed and smiled and blushed and locked gazes with him with those huge, gorgeously icy eyes of hers and—Wait!

It was that last part that was getting him all confused over manicotti. It was the last part that had him stewing over her going on a date. It was that last part that he needed to freaking forget about. Because it was that part that was screwing with his life.

Tyler knew, even seconds after he had the thought, that he wasn’t going to be able to forget it. She was just too Fin to forget it. And nights like they’d had last weekend were too rare in a person’s life. Nights that seemed like they were painted in a different palette of colors. So. Yeah. He wasn’t going to forget it. But that didn’t mean he had to keep on clutching the balloon string either. He could let it go. Let it breeze away. He could even wave goodbye if he was feeling sentimental.

He stabbed at more manicotti, trying not to frown.

No matter what, he had to let it go.

FORONEJOLTINGSECOND, Fin thought the text was from Tyler.

How’s the date?

But no. Of course, it wasn’t. It was from Via. She was checking in that the date she’d talked Fin into taking wasn’t a monumental disaster.

Luckily, said date was currently in the restroom so she didn’t feel like a complete ass answering a text at the table. She thought about her answer for a moment, looking around the cozy little restaurant. It was a dark pub in Brooklyn Heights that he’d chosen for their date. She liked the stubby, droll candles on each table, the saloon doors that separated one part of the restaurant from the other. She liked the stuffy portraits of famous people in thick gold frames that lined the walls. And she’d really, really liked her thirty-dollar burger. But the date?

Shrugging to herself, Fin typed, Good.

Wow, Via texted back. Sounds like he’s really knocked your socks off.

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