Page 106 of My Merry Mistake
This is ridiculous. This isFinn. He’sall wrongfor me.
I close my eyes, trying to remember all the reasons why that is . . . but the image of his face, watching me with a kind of quiet desperation, appears in my mind.
I open my eyes and drag in a giant, deep breath.
Okay. Enough nonsense. I need to do what I always do and put these ridiculous feelings in a little box and move on. They’ll only get messy.
“Nothing good can come from this, Raya.” I breathe the sentence out loud just as the elevator dings.
And I use the sound as a signal. The end of the round. Closing off whatever this was and shifting back to common sense.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Raya
If there’s one area where I’ll never take charge, it’s in the kitchen.
Which is why, when I show up to Thanksgiving dinner two days later, I know I’m going to feel useless.
I hate feeling useless.
It’s been a week without work, and I’m ready to go back. I feel good. My body feels good.
My heart? Different story. I desperately need a distraction.
Yesterday, I’d hoped to see Justin. I want things to progress with him because how else am I going to get Finn out of my head? He’d asked if Justin and I were exclusive, and once I can answer “yes” to that question, I think he’ll stop flirting with me.
Right?
It doesn’t really matter because Justin had to cancel our plans to show a luxury property to an investor.
“He’s the kind of guy you don’t put off,” he’d told me, and I assured him it was fine. Understanding things like this—last minute changes and having work take priority over social things—was the deal.
But when I hung up the phone, for the first time since this thing began, I started to question whether or not it’s working.Our arrangement is only effective if he shows up, and in the nearly three weeks since we first agreed to try this, most of our dates have been cut short or outright canceled. As a result, I feel a little like I’m walking half-blind into Thanksgiving dinner with my family.
Really, how well do I know this guy?
More to the point, how well can I pretend to know him in front of my family?
The Comets had a home game last night, which they won, a fact I know because I watched the whole thing. Finn didn’t play—he’s still in the concussion protocol—but he sat on the bench with the team, and every so often they’d show him on the screen, reminding viewers what had happened to put him there.
Every time, my breath caught in my throat at the memory of his nearness, something that’s been happening regularly since I left his apartment Tuesday. My brain has been pretty much replaying the almost-kiss on repeat every hour.
On a continuous loop.
I’m really conflicted about it—and my straightforward, clinical, logical side is having trouble reconciling this new, heated, emotional side.
Maybe the trick here is to kiss someone else. Interrupt the mind stream. Disrupt the desire to unlock the box where I stashed my feelings for Finn. Seems plausible. Justin and I haven’t had the opportunity to explore what attraction there might be between us, and I’m thinking maybe today is a good time.
The thought of kissing Justin does absolutely nothing for me.
I don’t reallywantto kiss Justin.
What does that say about our future? Or more to the point, our present?
I huff out a breath like that’s going to clear my head and pull into Dallas’s long driveway. There, inconspicuously parked, is a familiar Jeep Cherokee.
Nobody told me Finn was coming.
