Page 50 of Finding Denver
A hand is placed on my lower back. Colt has returned and says, “Shall we order?”
It’s more than a little surreal that I’m having lunch with the McEwans and Colt Harland. A few weeks ago, hell, a few days ago, if someone had told me this would be happening, I’d have laughed my ass off. But here I am, discussing chicken or fish with Helena McEwan, trying my best not to vomit from anxiety.
“So … when did you last see me?” I ask.
“Lord, you must have been … fourteen?”
“Just before my mom died?” I ask, and Helena picks up her ice water and takes a few sips as she nods. “But you weren’t at her funeral, were you?”
Finn says, “We had a falling out with your father. Us going would have caused more problems, and the day was about Cara, not us.”
“I regret it,” Helena says quickly. “Not going. Not seeing you again. But your dad was going through a lot and?—”
“Let’s focus on the now,” Finn says gently. I look between them, a thousand questions on my mind.
“How did you meet my mom?”
Helena says, “We went to the same ballet class.”
“Once,” Finn interjects. “One class.”
“It was still a class!” Helena insists, and I smile. “We both hated it, so went for milkshake instead. We were inseparable. She was the first person I told about Finn. I had no idea who he was, but she did. She kept my secret even when her family thought it was her dating him. They tried everything to get her to confess.”
“And a Gallagher dating a McEwan would be bad?”
“Those troublesome McEwans,” Colt says from my left. “Bad men, worse husbands.”
“Vicious lies,” Helena says, chuckling. “Thirty-five years of happy memories proves that.” She throws a smile at Finn, who returns it with equal warmth. “Anyway, your mom kept my secret, so when she told me about Nico, I kept hers.”
Finn stops buttering his bread. “You told me you didn’t know about Nico.”
Helena waves her hand. “Secrets between best friends are binding. Anyway, she met Nico at the pub she worked at. She told him to get out if he knew what was good for him. He asked her if she knew who she was talking to. So, she threw a bucket of ice over him and told him to take his DeLuca attitude somewhere else.”
That sounds like my mom. She was always fiery, ready to challenge my dad when she needed to. Ready to challenge anyone. There are so many things I want to ask Helena now that I’m here. I’d anticipated a tense conversation with Finn, but instead I’m being granted a trip down memory lane.
As Helena tries to convince Finn to split a bottle of wine with her, Colt rests his arm on the back of my chair and lowers his voice. “How are you?”
Flush heats my neck when I remember the way I’d sobbed that night. How I’d screamed and hit at him as he’d held me. “I’m fine. You?”
“Are you? Because you didn’t call me back.”
Colt called, too? I hadn’t noticed. I adjust my cutlery, straightening it. “I’ve been busy.”
“When I stopped by, Lewis said you were taking a break.”
“You came by?” I whisper, my eyes wide. “When?”
“The day after.”
I fidget in my seat. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“I was worried. And that jacket you stole is expensive.”
I tut and elbow him, and he tugs on my ponytail playfully before returning his attention to the menu.
While we wait for the food, Finn says, “We should probably discuss why we’re having this lunch.” I straighten in my seat. “The Capellis are under the impression that their man was taken down by one of ours.”
“But they won’t think that for long?” I guess.
