Page 149 of My Merry Mistake
“I’ll be quick.” I stand upright.
He looks at all three of us, suspicion on his face. “Stay here.”
He disappears behind the door, and I look at Poppy, then Eloise, fear knotting in my stomach. “Oh my gosh. What am I going to say?”
“Just be honest,” Eloise says, smiling.
I cover my face with my hands and let out a loud, hearty laugh. I love Finn. I’min lovewith Finn. I’m terrified. It could all go up in flames. I might getreallyhurt. But I have to at least try, right? I owe him the chance he asked for.
“I can’t believe this,” Poppy says. “You finally came to your senses!”
I smile at her, so thankful for these two sisters and how beautifully they’ve grown up. Two strong, independent women who don’t need a big sister to look after them anymore—just a friend to come alongside them.
Which is exactly what they are to me.
The door opens, and my breath catches in my throat. But it’s the security guard, not Finn. He looks at me, then at my sisters. “Sorry, ladies, Holbrook isn’t back there.”
My heart stops. “What?”
“Seems he took off for Christmas a day early,” the guard says. “Left for Montana last night.”
Wait. What? He didn’t tell me.
But then, why would he when he promised to give me space?
“Game’s starting in five,” the man resumes his post. “Better get back to your seats.”
I look at Poppy, then Eloise, still feeling like all of my nerves are firing at the same time, unsure of what to do next.
And then, in a flash—I know.
I see a picture of Finn in my head. It’s from the first time I saw him seven years ago, and I realize I never updated that image. I kept him in that box, seeing him as that twenty-two-year-old kid. Goofy and unserious—and in my head, those were always flaws that kept me from looking deeper.
My mind runs through a series of memories with the updated picture of Finn fresh in my mind. Smiling. Laughing. Picking up Bodie and tossing him over his shoulder. Singing Christmas songs at the top of his lungs. Showing up on my porch with a box of Christmas decorations or a white chocolate mocha.
I see him in Poppy’s Kitchen, sleeves rolled, apron on, ready to jump in and help.
On the ice, celebrating, cheering,living.
I see cinnamon toast and Advil and tiny gourmet chocolates.
I hear the tiny voice on the other end of his FaceTime call, so worried that he’s okay, and the way he spoke to his mother—not like she was a nuisance—but like she mattered.
I see this man, who’s shown me the value of fun despite the depth of pain he hides behind that wide smile. And I start to think these little things all add up to big things. These little things all add up to Finn living like it matters.
It’s not accidental. He is the way he is and does the things he does on purpose.
Which means making his feelings known was a choice.
The picture of him in my head was so outdated. The realization shocks my heart like a jolt of electricity.
He showed up for me.
And now it’s time I showed up for him.
Without saying another word, I pull out my phone and open a browser to a blank webpage.
I type in “Flights from Chicago to Montana” and click Go.
