Page 23 of Never Too Late

“Because… I had this little voice in my head saying, what if he’s not gay? Or what if he is, but he didn’t come to the party alone and he’s already got a boyfriend? Or, even worse, a husband?”

“And instead, I was very much gay. And very much single.”

“And we went home together,” I said, the memory not as happy as it should have been.

“Yeah,” Finn agreed. He lowered his voice, so it didn’t carry to the surrounding tables, all of them occupied. “And we screwed against the wall of your living room. We didn’t even make it as far as the bedroom.”

And that was why it wasn’t a happy memory. “You deserved better.”

Finn shrugged. “I had no complaints at the time. At least you took me for dinner the next night. Just for the record, I class that as our first date. Not the bonkathon of night one.”

“That phone call,” I said, “the one you mentioned when we were in the brasserie, the one that I went outside to take and you weren’t happy about. I want you to know that it wasn’t what you thought.”

Finn’s thigh twitched slightly beneath my hand. “No?”

“I rang Amrita.”

“Right,” he said, “your PA. That’s exactly what I thought.”

“She is my PA, yeah. But you know she’s far more than that to me.” When Finn nodded his assent, I continued. “I rang her to tell her I’d met a wonderful guy. Someone who was sexy, but who could also make me laugh. I know it sounds crazy considering how I treated you afterward, but I really felt like all my Christmases had come at once.”

“It does sound crazy,” Finn said. He sounded more sad than annoyed, though. “And that was one phone call out of the hundreds that followed.”

There was no arguing with that. “I haven’t missed it,” I said. When Finn raised an eyebrow, I elaborated. “Having a phone.Being bombarded with calls from dawn till dusk. Whatever happens between us, it’s clear that I need to make some changes, that I need to find a better work-life balance before I find myself alone forever.”

Finn raised his coffee cup in a toast. “Then this trip has been fruitful for you.” He finished his coffee and stood, my hand slipping from his thigh. “Come on. Someone promised me a day packed full of activities. And so far, as nice as the coffee and pastries are, we’ve just sat on our arses and moaned about the past. No more mention of it today, alright? It comes firmly under the category of baggage.”

“Agreed,” I said as Finn pulled me to my feet. That was a sentiment I could get fully behind.

Chapter Nine

Finn giving me permission to touch opened the floodgates and, whether it was gentle touches on the shoulder, or a hand on his hip to guide him away from crowds, I didn’t seem able to stop myself. We chatted about meaningless stuff while we were in the queue for the Louvre, and then we wandered around its galleries for hours until we could no longer ignore the rumbling of our stomachs.

Deciding we didn’t want to eat within the packed confines of the museum when there were so many wonderful places in the city, we headed back outside. We found a small bistro instead, both of us bypassing the snails on offer to have French onion soup—because if you can’t have it when you’re in France, when can you?—with crusty bread.

By the time we went for a stroll along the Champs-Élysées to the Arc de Triomphe, I could no longer resist the urge to reach out and take Finn’s hand. There was a risk it would jerk him out of the peaceful thrall we’d fallen into, as comforting and cozy as any blanket, but it was a risk I was willing to take.

Finn stopped suddenly as I slipped my hand into his, looking down at our entwined fingers with an unreadable expression. “Is this okay?” I asked, my heart thumping an irregular rhythm in my chest. I hadn’t asked a boy if I could hold his hand since I was fifteen, and I was just as nervous now as I’d been then. Maybe even more nervous because I knew how much was at stake.

He stared at our hands for a few seconds more before a small smile slipped onto his face. “I never took you for a hand-holder, Mr. King.”

I shrugged, ignoring the heat I could feel invading my cheeks. “I’m discovering a lot of things about myself on this trip.”

We started walking again with our fingers interlocked, the simple intimacy feeling so right that it was embarrassing to contemplate why in six months of having Finn in my life, I’d never held his hand. Not even once. What an absolute waste. If I needed any more proof that I’d been a prize idiot, there it was.

Finn gave my hand a squeeze. “Like what?” I groaned inwardly. I should have known Finn wouldn’t let a statement like that go by without questioning it. I tugged him over to a shop window, hoping the display of expensive watches might distract him. He didn’t even look at them, his gaze remaining locked on my face. “No, really. Like what?”

I gave up on the shop window, and we started walking again. “Do you want a list?”

“Yeah, I do. I’m interested.”

“I work too hard.”

“Well, duh!”

“I’m in danger of ending up a rich but lonely old man.”

“You missed handsome. You’ll be a rich, handsome, lonely old man.”

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