Page 83 of Can't Help Falling

“Finny, at some point you’re going to realize that having a true connection with a man, the right man, isn’t the end of the world. Maybe, just maybe, Ty’s presence in your life doesn’t prevent you from having the life you’re supposed to have. Maybe it provides you with the life you’re supposed to have. If he’s really the man you’re supposed to be with, then he’s going to help you build a family, not stand in the way of it.”

“Via,” Fin said, sagging back against the counter and ignoring the curious stares of the other bathroom-goer who was just now washing her hands. “This is a lot.”

Via laughed sheepishly. “Okay. Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry. Some of us get a little self-righteous when we’re in love. I’m just saying that when I was falling in love with Seb, I had all these reasons why I shouldn’t, and your advice was basically for me to get out of my own way and let the good times roll. And that’s my advice for you. Dump the wrinkly hottie and quit beating yourself up about having a crush on a really good guy.”

“A really good guy who isn’t my type at all,” Fin said, because she was feeling obstinate.

“Types only mean something until you really get to know the person. And then they don’t mean shit.”

Fin laughed despite herself. It was always something when Via DeRosa took it upon herself to drop a curse word. “Good point.”

“As always.”

Fin rolled her eyes. “As always.”

“I heard you roll your eyes.”

“Love you, sister.”

“Love you too.”

They hung up and Fin, alone in the bathroom, finally turned to the mirror to really take a look at herself. She looked past the bright, befuddled, wild expression on her face and let her eyes fall to her jewelry. She gripped at the pendant she wore. She could barely remember putting this on. It was a heavy black stone that hung from her neck. Obsidian. A protection stone. And on her ears, two onyx studs, also black, also meant for protection. She wore her silver bangles with a matching black tourmaline bracelet on each wrist. Protection, protection, protection. And then her clothing. Not a stitch of color on her. Black tunic, black leggings, black winter boots.

She was basically Tyler’s heavy-velvet-curtain metaphor in human form, blocking all light and possibility. She looked down at herself and saw no joy. No anticipation. No excitement of any kind.

She’d dressed for battle.

Why the hell was she even here?

Turning on her heel, Fin marched back to the table, saw that the plates had been cleared and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Look, Fin,” Donovan started as she slid into her seat.

“I’m not available,” she interrupted him. “I’m sorry. I know that Winnie said I was. She thought I was. But my situation changed over the last few weeks. I have feelings for someone, and I’m only here in order to avoid seeing him tonight. So. Yeah. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“Wow. Um...” Donovan narrowed his eyes and quickly looked down at the table, like he had a dirty look to give, but didn’t want to give it to her. “Okay.”

“You seem...” Fin started, but then stopped. He seemed what? Great? They’d talked about nothing, he’d ditched her to make a phone call and then she’d ditched him to make a phone call. He didn’t seem great and neither did she. They seemed like two velvet curtains who went out to dinner thinking they might have velvet-curtain sex sometime in the future.

How romantic.

Donovan chuckled when she didn’t finish her thought. “It’s okay. Really. You don’t have to stroke my ego. No harm, no foul. He’s a lucky guy, whoever he is.” Donovan finished his wine in two gulps, setting the glass down with a clink. “Can I just ask though, if you like him so much, why are you avoiding him? Is he married or something?”

Fin laughed because it surprised her so much, the idea of Tyler being married to someone. She’d simply never thought about that possibility before. Tyler getting married. Tyler in a black suit, navy eyes, pulling perfectly folded vows out of his coat pocket.

“I feel sick,” she muttered, covering her eyes.

“Ah. So he is married.”

“He’s not married. He’s just not my type.”

“Types are bullshit.”

She blinked up at Donovan in surprise. “You’re the second person to say that to me in less than five minutes.”

He gave her a droll look. “Have a heart-to-heart through the bathroom stall, did you?”

She pursed her lips. “I called my friend while I was in there.”

He held his hand up for the check. “We both snuck away from a date to make phone calls. Are you sure we aren’t meshing? I kind of think we’re a match made in heaven.”

She laughed this time, liking Donovan a lot more now that she wasn’t going to have to see him again.

“Trust me, we’re not.”

Donovan handed over his card after a quick perusal of the check. “You’re the psychic. I suppose I’ll just have to trust you.”

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