Page 122 of Like You Want It
But I can see Fin dead on from where I’m standing, and when he gets to the door, he stops.
Waits.
Shakes himself a little bit.
Then knocks.
I’m embarrassed to say that I nearly trip over myself trying to get to the door before anyone else.
“Hey,” I say, opening the door, my eyes feasting on him.
It’s amazing what you forget about someone when you don’t see them for a while.
Like the tiny scar on the left side of his chin, that I’ve only seen once or twice since he normally keeps just a tiny amount of stubble on his face.
Or how tall he is, towering over my tiny frame, dwarfing me in the doorway.
“Hey,” he says, that same neutral expression on his face. “Susie here?”
I suck in a deep breath, feeling like I’ve heard him incorrectly. “Yeah.” I step to the side, still clutching onto the door. “She’s in the back.”
“Great.”
And then he heads off through the living room and kitchen and out the back door, Nell in his arms, closing the screen behind him.
I slowly close the door, feeling like I missed something. It’s my birthday. Isn’t he here for my party? Do I not really even get a hello?
I step through the house and peer into the backyard, catching sight of Susie and Fin. She has Nell in her arms, and they look like they’re arguing.
But only moments later, Fin comes back through the door, though the house and towards the front.
When he catches me staring at him, he lifts a hand in a small wave.
“Sorry to interrupt. Just dropping off Nell.”
I blink.
Allow myself a moment to stare at him even though I’m sure it’s the last thing he wants.
He’s barely looking at me, his eyes glued to the front door as he moves in slow motion towards it. Desperate for escape. To get away from me. This. Us.
And I know this is his way of confirming for me what I expected was true.
Whatever was going on between us is over.
Because of one stupid word.
Yet.
“You weren’t interrupting,” I find myself saying. Wishing I could have said anything else. Likego fuck yourself.Or,definitely interrupting. Adios.
But those would be lies. And though I might have been lying to myself by assuming that I’d be able to create something more with Fin, I don’t make a habit of lying to the people I know. That I love.
I clear my throat, step forward and open the door. Look into his eyes. “I’m sorry you can’t stay.”
He grits his jaw and watches me, his nose flexing and his hands restless at his sides.
Then he spins on his heel and leaves.
