Page 31 of Rules in Love
I picked up my phone, and all the air was sucked from my lungs.
Scarlett: Hello, stranger. I hope you’re doing okay. I know the itchies are still itching, but I’m immune, and I made you some chicken soup. Can I bring it over?
Holy fucking hell, she made me soup.
Twenty minutes later, I replied. It wasn’t a deliberate delay. It just took me that long to pace around my room and decide what to say. It had to be perfect.
Me: Yes.
Bravo, Shakespeare.
Scarlett
Just as it had been all week, Finn’s gift of morning tea for the office was delivered at ten-thirty sharp. Weight was gained just by sniffing the sweet air. Cakes, muffins, and protein balls for the health-conscious filled the boardroom table. There was a giant coffee for Teddy and me too, and today, there was an extra addition—a gift just for me. A smiling delivery girl appeared with a brown paper bag filled with tissue paper and handed it to me with a wink.
“This is from Finn. He’s very sweet. You’re very lucky.” She sighed and disappeared.
“What is it? Open it now. The suspense is killing me.”
“Teddy, I’ve had it in my hands for, like, ten seconds. Chill.”
I was a damn hypocrite. I wasn’t chill. I was close to peeing my pants with excitement. Even in his absence, even when feeling poorly, Finn’s thoughtfulness was so sweet it hurt. I grabbed a blueberry muffin, and together, Teddy and I snuck into conference room A, Team Finnlett’s base. Damn if that name hadn’t stuck.
“For the love of God, woman. Open the bag.” I gave him the standard mum ‘shut up’ through gritted teeth, reached into the bag, and pulled out an umbrella. Bright red with white polka dots. It was cute. Very me.
“What in the Rhianna?” Teddy snatched the card still sitting at the bottom, read it, and clutched at his chest.
“Digby, you have a call on line three. She’s English and angry,” a voice called from outside.
“That sounds like my mother. I’ll be back. Don’t you go dying on me when you read that note.” Teddy handed me the card and made his exit.
Too scared to read it, I held it in my hand for a disturbingly sad amount of time, wanting it to be romantic but needing it to be platonic. I closed my eyes, held the card in front of my face, and then opened it.
To Miss Grant, to keep you from getting dirty and wet.
Cheeky bugger.
This time, the card was held to my chest as I spun in my chair while kicking my feet in the air. It was very mature. The several people laughing at me through the glass walls seemed to think so. I slowed the spinning and sat facing the garden. The leaves on my cherry blossom were starting to fall to the ground. In no time at all, the changing seasons would strip that tree bare, leaving it naked, exposed. I wanted Finn to do to me what autumn was gonna do to that tree.
I sat in my chair with the umbrella swinging around my wrist. All day I pondered what my response to Finn’s gift should be, and by home time, I had procrastinated so long that I feared whatever I said would seem ungrateful.
Just send something. Anything is better than nothing.I caught the umbrella and was about to pick up my phone when I noticed. They weren’t polka dots. They were tiny apples, each with one bite missing. A thrill like no other rushed through me. My knickers were soaked in a flash. I had tried so damn hard to bite that apple seductively, and it bloody worked.
Squealing with glee, I grabbed my phone and typed.
Me: Hello, stranger. I hope you’re doing okay. I know the itchies are still itching, but I made you some chicken soup. I’m immune. Can I bring it over?
Hunched over my desk, I watched the bubbles appear and disappear for maybe twenty minutes. Anticipation built with every second that passed. What was he writing? A declaration of love. A sonnet? A shopping list?
Finn McHunk: Yes.
Oh. Well. Fuck me. At least it wasn’t a no, I suppose.
Me: Great. I will drop it off around 6. See you then, Scratch ‘N’ Sniff.
Christ, I was so lame and so desperate. I’d seen him less in the last two weeks but thought of him more. It was a perplexing paradigm that proved the adage ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder.’ Apple-brella-gate had pushed me over the edge. Desperation aside, I had a less tragic reason to pop in, even if that was a little more than sketchy.
Since Finn had been home, I had begun planning the first of Wise’s retirement events, his official party, and needed—although, not really—Finn’s tick of approval.
