Page 38 of Seas the Dating Coach

Before my misty eyes spill into unnecessary tears, I cue up my favorite Netflix show—mine and eighty-two million other’s. Since the television series’ second season is scheduled to drop mid-July, now is the perfect time for a rewatch of season one.

I’m fifteen minutes into the second episode when Finn answers my text.

Finn

Probably Friday. If you don’t hear anything by Monday, let me know.

My fingers race, typing things I don’t intend to send. The first season ofWorthingonis centered around young Jane from an up-and-coming society family becoming the unfortunate scapegoat for sinister Lady Fitzroy’s scandal. That is, until the eldest Worthington—his grace, the duke—swoops in and rescues Jane by way of a fake proposal, becoming fiercely protective of her.

Vivian

Duke Worthington boxes to relieve stress from his marriage-minded mama. Why do you? To punish yourself? Who hurt you, Finn? Who? I’ll tear her eyes out.

I chuckle to myself, rereading my message, but then the image of Finn boxing in buff breeches and a rolled-up linen shirt makes my smile fall. My imagination runs wild, envisioning sweat sliding down that distracting notch between Finn’s tanned collarbones, his black hair flopping over his forehead, and his toned shoulders heaving from exertion. He’d saunter toward the ropes after winning, his gaze possessive as it rakes me from head to toe.

Pepper leaps from her cat tower, startling me. My finger—which had been hovering over the delete button—punches the send button instead.

“Shoot!” I jump from the couch, nearly tripping over the blanket that’s still half-tucked around me. “Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!”

Finn

Marriage-minded mama?

A horrified, high-pitched sound escapes me. Pepper lovingly winds herself between my legs as I type.

Vivian

Sorry! That was supposed to go to someone else.

Finn

Someone else named Finn? How many of us are in your roster, gorgeous?

I slap my forehead with my free hand, my cheeks flushing. I’ve been thoroughly caught. At least Finn isn’t here to witness my humiliation with that devious little smirk of his. All I need to do is put my phone in the freezer and pretend I don’t have cellular service. Yup. That should work. I take a stride toward the kitchen when another message pops onto the screen.

Finn

But to answer your question, we don’t speak of She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

The starburst shining from my chest is so unexpected it takes me a few seconds to catch my breath. I tuck back onto the sofa, holding my phone in two eager hands. Finn is an accomplished conversationalist. Other than talking about his ambitious drive for the directorship or plans for the library, he evades personal questions like dodging punches. All I got out of him yesterday was his sister’s name.

Ask about the rest of his family? Bob and weave.

Childhood? Slip to the right.

It’s almost as if his life didn’t exist before he got his masters. This admission that there’s an ex who did damage feels monumental.

Vivian

So there was someone…

Finn

Everyone has a someone.

I huff, my fingertips racing over the screen.

Vivian

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