Page 20 of Seas the Dating Coach

Finn

It’s simple to remember, on topic, and open ended. It’s perfect.

Vivian types for a long time, and my shoulders tighten, anticipating a tirade. The slight defiance that shines when weverbally spar became a full-force stubborn tornado when I suggested my plan over dinner on Friday.

A short message is all I receive.

Vivian

I don’t think I can do this.

My office suddenly feels vacuum sealed, though my door is open like always. I surge to my feet, texting while walking away from Vivian’s study room.

Finn

Find me in the fiction stacks. I’ll look like I’m picking out books. No one knows we know each other, so you can ask me the question. You can pretend I’m Atticus. It’ll be a run-through. Just like last week.

My heart pounds in my throat as I send another message.

Finn

You can do this, Viv.

It’s a struggle not to glance over my shoulder as I descend the stairs, to see that Vivian understands how much I believe in her.

Not wanting Vivian to hunt for me when she’s already flustered, I hover in the same aisle we were in last week. A book spine tips into my fingers before I push it back. The process mindlessly repeats until I smell her magnolia-coffee scent. This time, I let a book fall into my hand to read the back cover.

“What…” She hesitates, nervously clearing her throat. “What are you reading?”

I have no earthly idea. I’d planned on scanning the blurb, but when I caught her strangling the life out of the straps of her tote from the corner of my eye, my mind went blank. Trying something new is always hard, but the tremble in her fingertipswill be my undoing. It’s taking everything in me not to tug Vivian to my chest.

I flip the book, glancing at the cover. With the battling spaceships in the foreground and the glowing planet beyond, it’s probably military sci-fi. “I was thinking about trying this one. Do you like sci-fi?”

“I, um…” She pauses again, rolling her lips.

Come on, gorgeous. You can do this.

I keep my face open and inviting, though a noose feels like it’s tightening around my windpipe. All I can think about is Friday—how enjoyable dinner had been even with her trying to undermine my every suggestion, how we laughed over stupid things, howdarned easyconversation was. I hadn’t had that much fun with another person in…I can’t even remember.

“Maybe?” The word comes out high-pitched.

I lean my forearm against the stack. “Maybe?”

Vivian sighs while flopping her hands to her sides. “This isn’t going to work. I keep thinking about how you’reyouand not Atticus. It’s tripping me up.” Her antsy fingers tighten her ponytail before straightening her shirt.

She’d texted me earlier today, asking what she should wear—probably because I’d instructed her last time. Unfortunately, the request went straight to my head. I liked the idea of dressing Vivian way, way too much. After fighting internal demons I had no idea I possessed, I told her to wear her most comfortable outfit.

Vivian’s shallow V-neck shirt tucked into flowy wide-legged pants and canvas shoes gives off an effortless nautical feel with its alternating white-navy-white coloring. Her outfit also unknowingly matches my own navy and white combination.

“And Atticus would never do that suave doorway-lean thing you’re doing right now. Do you even see yourself?”

I almost hit my funny bone on the shelf, I bring my arm down so fast. “I need to be more like him?” That question sends a hot poker sliding between my ribs.

She nods. “I think it might help.”

I tap the book against my chin, as if I’m casually thinking and not eviscerated by the knowledge that even if we weren’t in this situation, I wouldn’t be the kind of man Vivian wants.

“Hold this.” Handing Vivian the book, I slump my posture before unfastening the top button to my navy suit vest and rifling my fingers through my hair. Once it’s flopping down over my forehead instead of in the professional style I always wear, I glance up. “Better?”

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