I’ll have to watch until I don’t.
“The champagne’s flowing freely tonight. You must have figured out a way to make sure you never run out.”
Her eyes come back to mine, and there it is. The sparkle I saw there on the night I asked her out. The heat. And yes, the happiness. It’s gone in an instant, but I saw it.
I can feel it between us. It’s like a physical pull. I want to take her hand and tug her out of the Met and into my car. Maybe if I went through the steps we took that night, found her someplace illicit and hidden to take her, we could get that feeling back.
Because it was building. It was becoming something strong and unshakable and goddamn delicious.
“Finn.” Sarah Morelli sweeps in, obvious delight on her face. “We were so sorry to hear your father wasn’t feeling well. I trust he recovered, if you’re here?”
“Yes, absolutely.” I lean down to kiss her cheek. “He insisted that I come tonight. You don’t let a woman like Sarah Morelli down, he said.”
Sarah laughs, dismissing this with a wave even as her face flushes. “Of course you’re here for Eva. Breathtaking, isn’t it? I think she’s surpassed me at hosting events.”
“She could only do that because she learned from the best.” I wink at Sarah. “One detail got overlooked, though. She hasn’t asked me to dance.”
“Eva, you must. This is the best wedding of the season. Let’s toast, and then you’ll take your fiancée to the dance floor.”
“Oh, no thank you, Mama.”
Sarah rolls her eyes, smiling. “You and your newfound sobriety. It’s all right to relax a little once the speeches are over, Eva.”
Sobriety?
Eva hasn’t taken a single sip of her champagne. Awareness whispers across the back of my neck like a woman blowing on a pair of dice.
Something else is going on here.
The music kicks up in volume. Eva hands off her champagne glass to Sarah like she’s been caught out with it. “I like this song,” she says, her tone bright and cheery and fake. “You’re right. We should dance.”
She takes my hand and pulls me onto the dance floor.
Eva Morelli is hiding something.
Whether that’s a new boyfriend, I haven’t the faintest clue. All I know is that I’m being led onto the dance floor for a reason.
I know it, but I don’t make any move to stop her. It feels too damned good to have my hand in hers. It’s a balm to put my hand on her waist and pull her close.
It feels too good.
“I know you’re doing this to distract me,” I murmur against her temple.
Eva curls her fingers through mine, finding the beat of the song. “Is it working?”
“Yes.”
3
EVA
Finn had no reason to be suspicious before. He does now.
Turning down the toast was a very smooth move. He knows I’m distracting him, and letting me do it.
I’m letting him pull me close as the music gets louder. My cheeks feel red-hot with anger and a touch of panic. His hands at my waist steady me.
It’s a real dilemma, because I don’t want him to back away. I’ve missed him. Being close to him. The masculine scent of him.
And I can’t believe he’d show up here.
You’ve made another mistake, Eva. I’ll forgive you for it. The question is whether you’ll forgive yourself.
I told Finn Hughes the secret I’ve kept from almost everyone, and he used it against me. I want to drag him out of the Met by his collar and shout those words back at him through a megaphone.
I can’t. Distractions only work if you commit to following through.
He tugs me closer, moving with the beat. I could end it now. Tell him in a clipped, icy tone that I’m pregnant with his baby, I’m keeping it, and he can leave me the hell alone.
It would create a black hole in the middle of Daphne’s wedding day. Finn would be shocked and hurt, and even if he managed to leave quietly, I would know what I’d done.
So what? A tiny voice whispers in the back of my mind. He hurt you first.
I straighten in Finn’s arms so I can see his eyes. He searches my face, looking for something. Answers, probably. Or forgiveness.
He’s not getting either one.
“How is Hemingway doing?”
Finn gives me a shallow nod, his expression clearing. He takes his family responsibilities seriously. I can’t fault him for that. My heart squeezes, guilty. I’m using a question about his family to hide another kind of family responsibility. One he doesn’t know he has.
And one I have every right to hide. His gorgeous face isn’t going to guilt me into anything.
We turn, gliding through the other couples. “Hemingway has officially settled in at home with us. He’s doing virtual school for the rest of the year as a trial run.”
“How did that go over with your parents?”
Finn huffs a breath. “My mother threw an absolute fit.”
“She doesn’t agree with the living situation?”
“She has some real concerns.”
“Isn’t she traveling most of the time?” That’s the reason Hemingway was at boarding school, and the reason Finn is the one in charge of his education. Finn’s mother is away, and his father is also away, albeit not physically.
“Some of them are the same concerns I have. Attending online school means Hemingway’s going to miss out on socialization. I’m worried he could get depressed, being around our dad instead of kids his age.” Finn sets his mouth into a determined line. “It’s what he wants, though. I owe him a trial run.”
“Then I’m sure it’ll all turn out.”
“He might not tell me if it doesn’t.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
A shrug. “Because he already admitted that he wants it. Even if he realizes it’s awful, he might not say anything. Sunk-cost fallacy.”
“Doesn’t seem very likely to me.”
Finn’s eyebrows draw together. Screw him for being so hopeful about this conversation. “Doesn’t it?”
“He’s not alone as you think he is. Hemingway has you.” I say it with an edge. I watch the words land. Your brother has you, and you’re awful.
The corners of his mouth turn down. “That’s right.”
I wish I had him, in spite of myself. I wish he could want me the same way instead of being so obstinate. “And how are you? How is the charming Finn Hughes doing?”
This time, a little breath goes out of him.
You think you love me? No. You don’t even like me. You don’t like charming men, remember?
“Just fine.” His easy tone is proof that he’s lying. “I’m busy running the company. Busy being head of the family. Same as always.”
Same as always, except everything is different now. Just how different, I haven’t told him.
His hand tightens on my waist. Finn’s eyes linger on mine. It’s an intimate communication. I can feel all the conflicts he’s facing in the way he moves. Tension, from worrying about his family and himself.
Maybe even guilt, from the way things ended between us.