Between the Pages: A Novel (11 page)

“I-I dunno,” Hannah stutters. “He showed up like twenty minutes ago and started yelling at me, begging me to take him back . . .” Her voice breaks on the last word. Finley pulls her into another hug and glares at Geoff.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” She narrows her eyes at him, and Hannah goes to stand by the door, trying to clean herself up. While Finley reprimands Geoff, I walk over to Hannah.

“Hey,” I say gently, smiling. “I was wondering if you wanted to come back to the Hamptons with Finley and me? The cab is outside.”

Her brown eyes widen. “What? Are you serious?” I nod. “But I . . .” She looks around at the apartment and shrugs. “Fuck it. Okay,” she says, sounding a tiny bit excited.

“Why don’t you go pack? We’ll get rid of Geoff.”

She nods and bites her lip. “Thanks, Emerson.”

After she retreats to her room, I turn to find Finley standing in front of Geoff with balled fists at her side.

“Just leave, okay?” she says, exasperated.

“This is ridiculous. It’s between Hannah and me. You’re always getting involved in our issues. Just stay the fuck out of it, Finley.” His tone of voice raises my hackles. I don’t like the way he’s talking to her. I slowly walk over to them and put my arm around Finley. Geoff looks from me to her, and back to me again. “What, are you two a couple now?”

Finley tenses. She shakes my arm off. “He’s my boss, and he gratefully offered to come rescue Hannah from your cheating ass.” She looks at me with fierce eyes, and then turns back to Geoff. “Oh, and by the way, I’m totally changing the locks tomorrow. So you better grab all of your shit and leave. Or I’ll call the cops.”

“Dude,” Geoff hisses, shaking his head, “you’re such a bitch.”

Now I’m the one balling my fists. “Geoff,” I say sternly, “I think it’s best if you leave.”

Geoff once again shakes his head as he paces the living room. “Fine. But none of this was my fault,” he explains.

What the ever-living fuck
?

“No? So your coworker’s vagina just
fell
onto your cock?” Finley retorts.

I cover my mouth to keep from laughing. Remind me never to get on Finley’s bad side. Fuck, she is
fiercely
loyal.

“Whatever. You don’t know the specifics.” He watches me before saying the next thing, as if he knows he’s crossing a boundary. “Honestly, are you even surprised? Hannah is so fucking obsessed with making it big. We never have sex anymore. I bet she didn’t tell you that part.”

Finley blinks twice, and I take a step away. “Are you saying Hannah
deserved
to be cheated on?” Finley growls, and this time, she’s flexing her hands as if she’s ready to punch Geoff. She would never do that.

Would she?

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” Geoff replies boldly. “Maybe if she weren’t so concerned about her career, she would’ve seen the signs.”

I don’t even see Finley’s fist moving forward. My eyes don’t register the quick movement. But I do hear the sickening sound of Finley’s fist making contact with Geoff’s nose. It’s the most satisfying sound I’ve heard in a long time. I leap forward to grab Finley before he retaliates. Geoff bends in half and moans.

“Leave,” I bark, holding a squirming Finley in my arms so he can’t hurt her. He doesn’t seem the type to hit a girl, but you never know.

“What the fuck?” Geoff yells, using his sleeve to stop the bleeding. “You’re such a cunt.” He grabs a duffel bag before walking to the door.

“I may be a cunt, but at least I don’t have a small dick.” She’s breathing heavily as she puts her hands on her hips. “Yeah, I’ve heard all about
that
.” She points to his crotch and swirls her hand around.

Geoff just shakes his head and leaves, swearing under his breath. When the door closes, I hold my hand out.

“High five, you badass.” She giggles. We slap hands quickly, but she yelps in pain.

“Ow! My fist hurts,” she wails before running to the kitchen and grabbing some ice out of the freezer. Hannah comes out of her bedroom with a large, bright-pink tote bag.

“What was all of that commotion?” she asks, eyeing me first and then Finley. “What happened to your hand?”

“Finley punched Geoff,” I say proudly.

“You
what
?” Hannah shrieks, and then jumps up and down.

“
And
she told him he has a small penis,” I add, and Hannah grins widely at Finley. I see it then—the love they share. I remember how Finley described her—how she’s always felt the need to take care of Hannah. And now I can see that Hannah gives love just as freely as Finley. It’s an equal friendship, but in a way, it’s deeper than friendship. They’re like sisters. I can understand this. I feel the same way about Isaac and even Brady.

I walk over to Finley and examine her fist. “Does it hurt to move your fingers?” I ask, taking an ice cube and running it gently over the broken skin. She hisses in pain.

“No. I think it’s just a cut.” She looks up at me and I take her hand, studying it closer. I lace my fingers with hers, moving them around. She doesn’t make a sound, but her eyes darken at the contact. Hannah clears her throat. I release her hand.

“Yeah, I don’t think anything’s broken. Where are your plastic bags?” I ask. Finley points to a drawer next to the sink. I rummage around, finally finding a large, gallon-sized one. I walk to the freezer and fill it with about ten ice cubes. I grab a dish towel and cover the bag, handing it to Finley. “Let’s ice it on the way. When we get back to the house, I’ll put a bandage on, okay?” She nods, and Hannah smirks. I catch Hannah’s eye, and she immediately looks down.

As we all pile into the cab with Finley in the middle, the driver turns around quickly and eyes me up and down.

“Dude,” he says, holding his hand out as a peace offering. “I had no idea you were the author. I’m such a dick. I didn’t figure it out until just now.
Loving
the book. Can you please sign it for me?”

“Hey, man,” I say, chuckling. I take the book and sign with a pen that he hands me. “It’s fine. Everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion.” I hand the book back to him.

As we begin our two-hour drive back to the house, I look over at Finley. She just smiles and rests her head on my shoulder.

Things may have changed between us, but I’d like to think it’s for the better. On some level, I think Finley and I belong together. Though she may not see it that way yet, I do. Everything happens for a reason. I’m not sure if meeting Finley was fate, or just a funny coincidence considering my past, but somehow, she makes me want to believe in something. And for once in my life, I feel hope.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Finley

Hannah stayed for two glorious weeks. I scheduled the locks to be changed, and despite the years she gave to Geoff, his cruel actions and words did their job in breaking through the hurt. She spent time at the beach thinking through his betrayal and lack of respect and realizes she is worth more.
Thank God.
She deserves so much better than that scumbag. It’s been amazing to watch her transformation, and I’ve loved my friend all the more for it.

The best part of her visit was how she diffused the tension between Emerson and me, effectively ensuring a repeat of the tattoo night didn’t happen. The worst part? She’s totally seen through our façade, and has called me out on it multiple times.

Today she leaves to go back to the city and pulls me aside as we wait for the taxi.

“Finn,” she starts, placing her hands on my shoulders and staring at me intently, “I know you won’t admit it, because you deny it every time, but something is a-brewin’ between you two.” I open my mouth to argue, but she holds a hand up to silence me. “I’ve watched you guys for fourteen days now—even when you didn’t know I was watching. The long glances, the quick smiles, the way your face lights up when you’re around him . . . I’ve never seen you like this. Not with any of the guys you’ve ever dated.” A few seconds later, Emerson jogs up to us, and she smirks knowingly. “Hey,” she says casually.

“Hey,” he says, patting her awkwardly on the arm. “It was nice having you. Come back anytime.”

She nods and blushes. No one can escape the charm of Emerson Whittaker. “I’ll definitely take you up on that.” She turns to me. “Be good.” I lean forward to hug her. She takes the opportunity of close proximity to whisper in my ear. “I don’t care what you decide to do. I just want you to be happy.” She pulls away and smiles before turning to Emerson. “Take care of her,” she instructs.

“I will,” he answers, gazing at me. It’s been two weeks since we almost kissed, but I’ve been just as aware of him throughout that time. The pride I saw in his face when he told Brady about how I punched Geoff did a lot for my wounded heart—both my pain for Hannah and also the way Geoff blamed me for the relationship issues. It still stung a little. Emerson eased that pain for Hannah and me with his charismatic jokes and delicious buttermilk pancakes every morning.

Emerson and I worked separately throughout the days, but dinners had been fun. Easy. I was learning more about him during the days, but also seeing more of him in his relaxed banter at night. He was less of an enigma, but more attractive as a result.

Having girly time with Hannah over a glass or two of wine each night has been crucial, and made me realize just how much I’ve missed her since I’ve been gone.

In Emerson’s gaze I feel . . . safe. Wanted. Yet it’s still too intense, so I have to look away.

The taxi pulls up. “You’re crazy for calling Uber,” she calls over her shoulder to Emerson. “I probably owe you like a thousand dollars.” She waves and the driver piles her suitcase into the trunk.

“I’ll bill you,” Emerson jokes, and she flips him off playfully. She gets in and waves again, smiling widely. The taxi pulls away, and the farther away it gets, the more panicked I feel.

Emerson and I are alone for the first time since the night of the power outage. In fact, those “temporary” tattoos hadn’t proven to be very temporary. I tried washing them off, but they don’t want to budge. It’s like they want to continue presenting themselves as evidence of that night. Even today, the neck tattoo is still a fading, decomposed blob of a memory.

When I look back at Emerson, he’s watching me intently. Is it just me, or was he looking at the tattoo on my neck?

“So,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Better get writing,” I say, brushing past him and going into the house. I hear him follow me inside.

“Finley.” Why
is it that whenever he says my name like
that
, all gravely and hoarse, it makes me want to forego all rational thinking and strip my clothes off?

I turn around reluctantly, unsure of how I’ll react when I see his face. When my eyes meet his, I grip the bannister for support. He’s watching me hesitantly, as if he’s just as unsure about all of this as I am. He licks his lips and furrows his brow, taking a step forward. A smile dangles from the corner of his mouth, and the muscles holding me up begin to weaken.

“Yeah?” I ask, my voice high and quiet. I swallow once. I reflexively take a step backward, away from him and his powerful pheromones.

“I’m going to send you chapter eight,” he says steadily.

“Oh,” I say, nodding. “Sure. I’ll start working on it right away.”

He smiles and walks past me, pinning me against the wall on the stairwell. He doesn’t say or do anything, even though the close proximity sends me reeling.

God,
what is wrong with me?

I trek up the stairs to my bedroom and close the door behind me. I hear Emerson’s music from next door, so I grab my headphones and get to work.

Catastrophe avoided.

Untitled

By Emerson Whittaker

CHAPTER 8

I took four years off between high school and college. Truth be told, I wasn’t ready for more responsibility. I’d been emancipated for two years already, and I wanted to have some fun. So I withdrew the small lump sum of money from my savings account, bought a one-way ticket to Greece, and left.

I left
everything
behind for four years.

The plane ride to Greece was exhilarating. I’d never been abroad—I’d never even flown in a plane before. I sweat through my T-shirt just taking off, and landing? You don’t even want to know. I managed to find the bus to my accommodation in Athens. This was before the age of smart phones—I had no idea if the hostel had any rooms available.

They did not.

So for my first two weeks in Greece, I slept on the sidewalk near the hostel. The front desk workers were nice enough to bring me leftover food, and I was reasonably comfortable. It was October, so the hot summer had ended and the cold winter had not yet begun. Finally, fifteen days after my arrival, they gave me a room and offered me a job working the front desk.

It was as though I’d won the lottery. Six months later, after too many drunken nights, close calls with a scooter, and after I’d had my fill of souvlaki with pita (the cheapest thing I could find to eat) I made my way to Zagreb, Croatia with the money I’d accrued. The train journey took over two days. I ate out of the trashcan because I was afraid of spending too much money. Anything to avoid sleeping on the sidewalk again.

Once in Croatia I was starving, so I wandered the streets of Zagreb, searching for the cheapest deal. I found a sausage stand and promptly ordered four Polish sausages for nine cents each (the current exchange rate was definitely in my favor). Twenty minutes later, I vomited them all up in the street. My empty stomach couldn’t handle it.

I stayed and worked in Zagreb for six weeks. I had a steady morning gig at the docks, helping the fishermen with their fish. It was a disgusting job if I’m being honest, but I got free fish, which meant I had free food. I managed to get another hostel gig, working the overnight shifts. There were days when I’d have to sprint from my hostel to the docks, just to make it on time.

I didn’t sleep very much those six weeks. But I’d saved a lump sum and I decided to splurge and book plane tickets to London. Once at Heathrow, I accidentally bumped into a young woman around my age at baggage claim. She was frantically looking for her driver. I eyed her expensive-looking clothes, and then I looked down at myself. We were opposites. But she seemed to like me. Either that or she simply took pity on me. She invited me to stay with her at her family’s house in London.

And that’s how I ended up dating a member of the royal family and living like a king in London for a year.