Page 105 of Stirring Up Love
The latest flip house had sold while Finn was away, which left him nowhere to go except Darius’s spare bedroom. Spacious accommodations that came with a heaping side of I-told-you-so. His best friend had been right. Impossible for him to separate heart and head.
Mouth full of freezer-burned pasta, he glanced around the kitchen. Top-of-the-line appliances—a six-burner range, double oven, Sub-Zero fridge stocked with organic produce and free-range eggs—and he was forcing down pasta somehow both cold and yet way past al dente. Bleak.
The thought of taking down a copper pan from the rack overhead made his heart seize with longing for what he’d given up. He wouldn’t be able to fire up the burners without being reminded of Simone kneeling in front of the wood-burning stove in Sedona. The flicker of flame would remind him of how she’d healed more than his throat by taking care of him in the cabin, how she’d worked alongside him in the kitchen in Hawksburg.
But their connection hadn’t been enough.Hehadn’t been enough. Turned out being the one to end things didn’t hurt any less.
Pushing aside a chunk of icy marinara, he took another bite of mealy, frigid pasta. He grimaced as it stuck in his throat and pointed his fork at Darius, who was watching him over the top of the laptop he’d set up at the island.
“Don’t say it.” If he had to listen to a lecture about how much the past week had cost him—emotionally, financially—he might lose it.
Darius flicked his eyes down and tapped away at the keyboard.
Finn left the disgusting meal on the counter to reheat later and opened the fridge. The sight of full shelves and brimming crisper drawers didn’t quell his anxiousness like it usually did. He bypassed bacon and a carton of eggs, brie and a jar of homemade apricot preserves, and fished out the milk instead, then rooted around in the cabinets until he found the boxes of cereal ...
Rock bottom.
After another moment’s hesitation, he caved and poured himself a bowl of bran cereal and shoveled a bite into his mouth. Depressing, as expected.
“Should I not have tried?” he asked his friend, unable to stomach the loaded silence. “You’re always telling me to push past my comfort zone.”
Darius kept his eyes on the computer. “In business.”
“This was business!” Finn waved a hand, and milk dripped off his spoon. “Not my faultThe Executiveswhipped up a sinister plot to boost their ratings.”
“No, it’s not. But things were already personal between you and Simone; then you decided to put them in a pressure cooker by inviting her on a road trip. It was never going to end well.”
Never going to end well.He hated the emotions those words stirred up in him. For so long, he’d applied them to himself. Never going to amount to anything. Worthless. And hearing Simone tell her grandpa exactly that ...
Emotion clogged his throat. “For a second there, I thought it might. We make a great team. And I think she saw it too.”
“Then why’d you walk out before hearing her decision?” Darius closed his laptop, the better to shoot Finn a penetrating glare, no doubt. “You still had a shot at two hundred thousand dollars.”
Maybe. Maybe not. And he was done being sure of someone when he was their option. He forced down another mouthful of cereal, trying to ignore the all-too-familiar slide of soggy mush going down his throat,the cold blandness of a meal he’d eaten countless times when he’d had to scrounge his own dinner.
The stool legs screeched along the tile as Darius pushed back from the island. “Enough of this.” He took the cereal out of Finn’s hands. “When’s the last time you had a decent meal?”
He thought back to the breakfast he’d cooked with Simone’s grandma. The Honey and Hickory barbecue he’d tasted. The rehearsal dinner he’d been too busy catering to make himself a plate.
“If you have to think that long, it’s a problem.” Darius pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you dinner. No one can think straight on an empty stomach. You taught me that.”
“This is cheating.” Finn balanced a compostable to-go container on his knee. After tossing out his depressing frozen dinner, Darius had called in reinforcements in the form of Bella, who’d brought takeout from an all-night diner. It wasn’t that he was a food snob, but ordering takeout seemed lazy with a stocked fridge in the kitchen.
“Disagree.” Bella sat on the other end of the couch, in sweatpants and a white menswear undershirt, her red-gold hair still pulled back in the braid she’d worn on shift a few hours ago. A night owl, she’d probably been on her PC, gaming to decompress after work, when Darius called. A pinch of guilt hit Finn for the fact that his friends felt the need to show up in the middle of the night for him, but a bigger part of him appreciated having their support. Bella raised a forkful of hash browns. “Takeout is self-care on days you just cannot bear to look at the inside of a pot again.”
“Oh jeez, you sound like Simone.”
Bella kicked her feet up onto the couch, then toed off her clogs when Darius shot a glare her way. “From what you’ve told me about her, she’s driven, with perfectionist tendencies and a killer instinct.” Accurate, but she’d left out caring, loyal, and flat-out hilarious. “Sounds more like Darius to me.”
“Hey, now.” Darius frowned, then brightened. “Actually, yeah. I am all those things.”
Bella sat up, jabbing her plastic fork for emphasis. “Oh my gosh, you’re dating the female version of your best friend. You totally have a type.”
Darius grinned. “She’s not wrong.”
