Page 91 of The Pucking Date
But it’s starting to feel that way.
The ride to Tarrytown is quiet. The kind of quiet that settles in after too much—too much touching, too much teasing, too many moments that felt dangerously close to permanent. I’m pressed into Finn’s side in the back seat, head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped solid around me. We’re both bone-tired, skin still humming, clothes barely hiding what we did to each other all weekend.
He kisses my temple once, then rests his cheek against my hair. His thumb draws slow circles on my hip, under the edge of my jacket, steady and warm and grounding. It should lull me to sleep. I’m so close. But my brain won’t stop.Not with the skyline fading in the rearview and real life rushing up to meet us again.
I need to tell him about the baby. But I keep hearing his voice—not sure I’d get it right—and my courage crumbles. The moment I tell him, everything changes. And I’m not ready to lose this yet.
Finn shifts, pulling me a little closer, his chin grazing my hair. “You good?” he murmurs, words rough from sleep or sex or both.
“Mmhmm.”
“You sure?”
I nod against his chest, too afraid my voice will crack if I speak.
He doesn’t push. Just holds me tighter.
And for a few more blocks, I let myself stay suspended in this moment. Let myself be selfish. Let myself pretend that this—just this—is enough.
That I can hold onto it a little longer.
That the truth can wait for one more day.
But the closer we get to home, the harder it is to pretend.
When the car pulls into my driveway, I reach for the door handle only to see Finn already sliding out. He pops the trunk, grabs both suitcases, and sets them on the curb like this is just what we do now.
I step out, eyebrows raised. “What are you doing?”
He grabs both suitcases, pure mischief in his eyes. “Collecting my plus one. You’re coming home with me, Red.”
“I have work in the morning.”
“So pack heels. You’re going straight to the office from my bed—well fucked and well-fed.”
“Finn,” I warn, hands on hips.
He stops at the front door, turns with that wicked grin. “You’ve got thirty minutes. I’m starving, and I’ve got at least two more rounds in me. Pack fast.”
I roll my eyes, heart thudding like crazy, but decide to go with it. “Help yourself to an espresso. Frozen fruit’s in the freezer. Protein powder’s in the cupboard. And I think Sophie restocked bananas and oat milk.”
He winks. “God bless that girl. Now hustle, Novak. I want you back in my bed within the hour.” He disappears inside the kitchen, already rummaging through cabinets and muttering appreciatively about my high-end espresso machine.
I step into the hallway just in time to see him toss his jacket over the back of a chair. “You’re awfully comfortable, Carolina,” I call after him, grinning.
He glances over his shoulder. “Give a man one taste of heaven, and he starts redecorating.”
I shake my head, laughing, then turn and head upstairs.
“Smoothie? Espresso?” he calls after me.
“Yes to the smoothie,” I shout back. “Will pass on the espresso.”
“Your loss, Red,” he calls. “More caffeine for me.” A beat. “I’ll keep you awake just fine.”
I shake my head, smiling as I climb the stairs. I like the sound of his voice in my kitchen and the way he moves through my space, filling it out with his energy.
I could get used to this.
