Unscheduled Departure (2 page)

"I've got to go." Finn kissed me one more time, traced a finger down my cheek, and then he was through the X-ray machine...down the hall... one more look and around the corner. Gone.

"Miss, you'll have to step out of line if you're not a ticketed passenger." The unromantic TSA agent arched a brow at me.

I nodded and ducked under the barrier, glancing back one last time, but there was no sign of Finn. I was being ridiculous. I knew that. He was getting on a plane and our lives would be different— harder, maybe— but everything would be fine.

I hoped.

My phone buzzed and I smiled when I saw a text from Finn.

I miss you already.

I wove through the crowd to an empty spot along the wall. I leaned against a support post and toed absently at a black scuff mark on the tile floor as I texted him back.

I miss you too.

I hesitated, then added
Please don't go
.

What was I doing? My thumb hovered over the
Send
button, and I was filled with a sudden rush of yearning, an irrational fear that if he left, Finn would never come back. I wavered, unsure what to do as my thumb twitched over the screen.

Delete.

Send.

The image flickered before my eyes, words blurring through my tears. My heart pounded, tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth as I swayed a little on my feet. I could hear blood pounding in my ears, louder and faster, as I stared down at the phone screen.

Delete.

Send.

Finally, with a sheepish sigh and a shake of my head, I wiped the tears from my eyes, deleted the second sentence and pushed
Send
.

We'd be fine.

6:45 AM

I wasn't sure why I waited around until take-off. It wasn't like I could actually see the plane from where I was, let alone spot Finn looking sad and forlorn, waving bleakly through the window. Okay, maybe that was a little bit of wishful thinking, misery loves company and all that, but down deep in places I didn't like other people to see, I had to admit I hoped he was suffering, too. Just a little bit.

That probably made me a horrible person, but in my defense, I only indulged in my self-pity party for a few miserable minutes.

I stared unseeingly out the big windows overlooking the tarmac and the brown grass of the field beyond, and let out a heavy sigh before I checked the time.

6:46. The plane was in the air.

Finn was gone.

I sighed again and fought the tears I could feel pricking at my eyes. I wasn't going to cry. Finn was gone, but we could make it through.

Finn was gone.

I turned around, repeating the words like a mantra in my head.

Finn was . . .

He was . . .

Finn was standing right in front of me.

I froze, and I swore my heart stopped, my mouth hanging open as I stared at him. "What . . .? How . . .?" I reached out toward him, then snatched my hand back, half-afraid I was imagining him.

Finn's lips twitched and he dropped his bag, crossing to me in two big steps. He swept me into his arms, and I let out a soft gasp at the familiar scent of his shampoo, tucking my face into his neck as he held me tight. He pulled away only to move right back in and kiss me, stealing my breath again at the warmth of his lips, his touch.

After a long moment, he broke the kiss and took a deep breath. "I didn't go," he whispered against my skin.

I laughed, a little tingly and giddy. Lightheaded. "Yeah, I got that." I reached up to tangle my fingers in his hair, searching his face for answers. "But why not?"

He looked into my eyes, searching and quiet for a moment. "I couldn't go. I got your text and I just . . ." He looked away and wiped a hand over his face. "I'll have to talk to my mom, tell her I'm not coming. We'll just have to figure something else out."

My mind swam with guilt and relief. "Are you sure? I don't want to cause problems—"

"This is my choice," he said firmly, pulling me a little closer and pressing his forehead to mine. "You are my choice.
We
are. The rest . . . we'll figure it out. It'll be okay."

I let my eyes flutter closed and leaned into him, my fingers drifting up and down his back under his jacket. He made a little humming sound and kissed my neck.

"What now?" I asked.

Finn let out a little laugh and stepped back, taking my hand and interlacing our fingers. "Now, we go try to figure out how to get my luggage back. Then, I drop you at school and call to cancel the movers." He frowned. "Then I call my mom."

I winced in sympathy. "Good luck with that one."

7:45 AM

Turns out, it's not as complicated as you'd think retrieving luggage from an airplane headed across the country. It wasn't free, but the airline agreed to put Finn's bags on the next plane headed back from Chicago.

He'd put off calling his mom, figuring he had until his plane landed in Washington—still several hours away— before he really had to do it. I didn't push it. I didn't envy Finn that conversation. We'd brainstormed alternatives as we drove back from the airport, stalled in rush hour traffic. My first class was at eight, and Finn dodged between slow-moving cars to try and better our time, ignoring the honks and one-finger salutes.

"How about your uncle?" I asked. "Your mom's brother— what's his name?"

"Uncle Gary?" Finn shook his head as he swerved into the carpool lane. "They haven't spoken in years. Not since dad died. He wanted to take over then, but Mom doesn't really trust him."

"Well, if she's so adamant you keep the company, why doesn't
she
run it?"

Finn laughed humorlessly. "Good question." He glanced at me sideways. "Mom's too busy with charity work."

"Charity work?"

He shrugged. "Well, that and hair appointments. Nail appointments. Meetings with her spiritual consultant. Facialist. Pet psychic."

"Your mom has a pet psychic." I gave him a bland look.

Finn's lips quirked. "Well, technically, it's for Mr. Nibbles."

"I can't believe a chihuahua needs a psychic."

"You obviously haven't met Mr. Nibbles." Finn caught my eye and we both burst out laughing. "He has a lot of unresolved issues from past lives, apparently."

I shook my head sympathetically. "Oh, the bones that were never chewed. The stuffed animals that went un-humped."

"He's sure making up for that now. My old G.I. Joe won't be wearing white at his wedding."

I couldn't keep down the giggles. "Poor Mr. Nibbles. He only wants to be loved."

Finn shuddered. "Okay, we need to stop talking about my mother's dog now. I'm pretty sure this might scar me for life." He cut across four lanes to get to the exit and I gripped the seat, bracing myself against the door.

"Remind me to drive next time, Phineas," I muttered.

"Not my name,” he said, jerking to a stop as the light changed. “And we'd still be sitting in traffic if you were driving."

I rolled my eyes instead of responding, too happy that Finn was sitting next to me to even argue the point. I looked out the window at the passing businesses as we navigated the U-District, thinking about all that had happened that morning. Over the past few days, I’d spent a lot of time wondering if Finn and I would make it, if we'd survive a long-distance relationship at all. In just a couple of hours everything had changed. We had a future. And all because . . .

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

I reached across the seat to take his hand. "Don't get me wrong. I'm so glad you're here. You don't even know."

He smiled and winked at me. "Yeah. Me too."

"But what changed your mind?" I asked.

He signaled and turned a corner before he answered. "I was feeling off all morning. But in the end, I guess it was your text."

I rubbed a thumb over the back of his hand. "When I said I'd miss you?" That was so sweet.

"When you asked me not to go," he replied.

What?

"Wait a second. I didn't. I didn't ask you."
What was he talking about?

Finn glanced at me, brow furrowed. "You did. You said you were going to miss me, then you said, 'don't go.' When I saw that—"

"But I didn't," I let go of his hand and pulled my phone out of my purse. "I mean, I was going to. I wanted to. But I didn't." I thumbed my phone open, flipped to my text messages. "I couldn't ask that of you. I couldn't be the one—" I scrolled through my texts, stabbing my finger at the thread with Finn. "I couldn't . . ."

I miss you already.

I miss you too.

"I couldn't . . ."

Please don't go.

"Ro?" I jolted, and realized he must have called my name more than once.

"You okay?" he asked.

I cleared my throat and looked back down at my phone.

Please don't go.

But I didn't . . . I hadn't.

"I don't understand," I said quietly. "I mean, I thought I deleted that."

This time Finn reached across the seat to take my hand. He pressed it to his lips, smiling against my skin. "I'm glad you didn't," he said.

I smiled weakly. "Yeah. Yeah, me too."

I thought for sure I'd deleted the text. I'd agonized over it, but in the end, I decided I couldn't put that kind of pressure on Finn. I felt bad that, in the end, I had. At the same time, Finn was now sitting next to me, so a small part of me felt victorious. Ecstatic.

Selfish.

I hadn't meant to, but I'd kept Finn in Seattle.

"I wanted to stay," he said, as if he'd read my mind. "I wanted to, Ro. It was my choice."

I nodded and turned to look out the window. The decision was made, and feeling guilty served no purpose anyway. I stared down at my phone, the text glowing. . . accusing, until the screen went black.

7:57 AM

Finn ignored the No Parking sign and pulled right up to the front of Guthrie Hall, home of the Department of Psychology. I leaned across the console to kiss him quickly goodbye.

"See you later," he said.

I smirked. "Later, Finnester."

He got kind of a funny look on his face, then said, "Not my name." He bopped me on the nose before I ducked out of the car to run up the steps, hoping I wouldn't be late for the pop quiz that everyone knew was coming.

Finn took off to grab some coffee and make some much-needed phone calls before he had to be back to pick me up in an hour. I paused, frowning as I watched the car turn the corner.

He'd kissed me . . . weirdly.

I didn't know how else to describe it. Maybe he was distracted. Maybe it was because I was in a hurry. His lips looked the same, felt the same, but something was different. Weird.

Ugh.
I obviously needed more coffee.

I shook off the strange feeling and raced down the hall, taking my seat in the lecture hall mere seconds before the clock hit the top of the hour and Professor Simons announced the pop quiz.

9:07 AM

"How'd it go?" Finn asked as I got into the car after class.

I shrugged. "Fine. I guess. Pop quizzes aren't worth much, so I'm not that worried."

Finn nodded as he pulled away from the curb. He headed to the diner around the corner from my ten o'clock English class and I thumbed through my phone, not looking for anything in particular. We parked and made our way into the restaurant, ordering coffee and breakfast sandwiches at the counter since I was relatively short on time.

"Did you talk to your mom?" I asked.

Finn took a sip of his coffee— black and disgusting— as I added more sugar to my own cup.

"Yeah," he replied. "She . . . wasn't happy."

"What's she going to do?"

"I'm not sure. I suggested she take over or turn it over to the board. Maybe sell out— there's another developer who's been chomping at the bit to buy us out since dad died."

"Is she willing to do that?"

Finn sighed and tore a piece of bread from the corner of his sandwich, crumbling it between his fingers. "Not yet. She may not have a choice, if she doesn't want to take the reins herself." He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the back of his chair. I picked up my sandwich and Finn reached down to unbutton his sleeve and roll up the cuff.

Wait a second.

I set my sandwich back down. "Did you go home?"

He rolled up his other sleeve. "No. I just got some coffee and waited for you."

"But—" I reached out and grabbed his wrist, unrolling his sleeve. His pale, yellow sleeve, unstained by coffee. "When did you change your shirt?"

"What?"

"Your shirt. You spilled coffee on it this morning."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah? I know. I was there."

I sat back, confused. "But I thought—” I reached for his other arm. Maybe I had the wrong sleeve. “I thought it was white.”

"Ro, what’s the big deal?" Finn asked, pulling away to roll his sleeves back up again. "Yes, I spilled coffee on my sleeve this morning. Which is why I changed my shirt before we left for the airport."

"What?" I blinked. That wasn't what happened. Was it? "No. You wiped it off. We were in a hurry."

"I changed, Ro."

"But it was white. Your shirt was white."

"Right. And now it's yellow. Because I changed it." Finn's forehead creased with confusion. I didn't blame him. I was pretty confused myself.

"God, what's wrong with me? Sorry." I muttered, wiping a hand over my face. "I’m just tired, I guess. I could have sworn—" I laughed, shaking my hand. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

First the text I thought I'd deleted. Now the mystery of the missing coffee stain.

"It's not a big deal," Finn said with a laugh. "It's just a shirt."

“Right. Yeah.”

He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the tip of my index finger. It was something he always did and it never failed to make me smile, although it made my best friend Lindsay roll her eyes and make gagging noises. I pushed my finger lightly against Finn's lips and he grinned.

"Love you," he said.

"Love you, too." I glanced at my phone. "But I better move it if I'm going to get to class on time."