Page 62 of A Hard Fit

Chapter Fourteen

Roommates

Finn had always known that he and Rory were a bad fit. That was, of course, why it took him so long to get his head out of his ass and make a move in the first place. But he had been completely wrong aboutwhythey were so incompatible. It was more than just that Rory was quiet and he was loud. Rory was sweet and thoughtful and he was a lumbering buffoon. So much more. It was down to the very fabric of their being—their upbringing, their family, their culture, all woven deep into their DNA. Second living rooms, housekeepers and folded napkins. Marble foyers, snowboards cluttering up the mudroom and champagne actuallyfromChampagne.

How long would it take Rory to figure it out?

And when they did…should he fight, or let them go?

By the time they got home, Finn’s stomach was in knots. “I ate too much,” he muttered, wanting nothing more than to go hide under the covers.

“Yeah, Hadir really outdid himself with that meal.” Rory dropped their keys on the counter and stretched.

“Good old Hadir.”

Rory noticed the tone and turned to study Finn in the darkened kitchen. The tiny, old kitchen. “What’s wrong with Hadir?”

“Nothing.” Finn sighed. “Nothing at all. It’s…I had no idea. You’ve literally never mentioned your chef or your housekeeper before, or however many other servants.”

Rory’s eyes widened and they took a moment to reply. “They’re my parents’employees, not mine. And I didn’t think it mattered if my parents had a chef.”

“Yeah.” Finn rubbed his face. “It doesn’t. I’m sorry, I think I need to go to bed.”

“Hey.” Rory put a hand on Finn’s arm. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Finn gave a weak smile. “Maybe too much champagne. Not used to drinking it.”

“Okay.” Rory relaxed. “I was going to”—they waved at their laptop on the kitchen table—“for a bit, but if you want me to—”

“No, it’s fine.” Finn kissed them. “You do your thing.”

He went through the motions brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed, but once he hit the mattress, his mind replayed every awkward moment from the evening over and over. It took him a long time to fall asleep, even with the soothing hum of Rory’s fingers on their keyboard coming from the living room.

* * * *

“Morning!” Rory chirped when Finn shuffled, bleary-eyed, into the kitchen. “Wow, you must have had a good sleep! I’ve been keeping some French toast warm for you.”

“Not really,” Finn replied, heading for the coffee maker. He had tossed and turned half the night. Rory wasn’t in bed the first time he’d woken up, but they had been there the second and third times. Then gone again, when, groggy and head pounding, Finn had finally cracked an eye open and found sunlight sneaking through the gaps in the curtains. He slumped at the table with his coffee. The French toast would have to wait.

“Hey, can we talk?” Rory asked, settling in the chair next to him.

Finn’s heart dropped into his stomach.Fuck. This is it. Rory knows it, too. I don’t fit with their family. We don’t fit. It’s over.

“There’s no easy way to say this, but…you really need to start your Christmas shopping,” Rory said.

Finn blinked, heart swooping back up in a sickening lurch. “I—What?”

Rory laughed. “I’m kidding, of course. I mean, you do need to start your Christmas shopping, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

The roller coaster plunged again. “Okay.”

“So.” They fiddled with their coffee mug. “I’ve been spending a lot of time here…”

And it’s too much. I need my space. I’m leaving.“Yeah?” It was a strangled noise.

“And I’m starting to miss—”

My freedom. Being single.Finn’s brain skittered through a hundred arguments at once.Make them stay. Let them go.

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