"I was preparing for the future," Finch declared, completely at ease.
"What future is that?" Dr. Clark asked.
"One with a house near the beach. Full of furniture the better half over here will grumble at."
"I really don't think you can do any worse than that chair," I muttered.
"Is that a challenge, angel?" he asked, eyes dancing.
"Oh, God. No," I grumbled.
"So, you two have been talking about a future home? Together?" Dr. Clark asked.
"The conversation has mostly been a very detailed list of things we do--and do not--want."
"Does that bother you? The lists?"
"One of us has to be able to remember all that shit," he said, shrugging. "It works out. She remembers things in advance for me."
"That doesn't make you feel like she's taking charge?"
"Doc, can't imagine it's escaped you, but our Chris here is a 'take charge' kind of girl. You either like that, or you don't. I like it. Even if I like to screw with her sometimes."
"Chris, what do you like most about Finch?" Dr. Clark asked, making me suddenly feel like we were in couple's counseling when we were really just there because Dr. Clark wanted to meet the man who had made such a difference in my life.
"He's so calm about everything. Very little ever gets a rise out of him. He just goes with the flow of everything. It makes me almost anxious in some ways, but I find it calming in others. He is accepting and generous and absolutely ridiculous and over-the-top. He doesn't judge or expect things from people, just takes it all as it comes, takes people as they are."
To that, she gave me a soft smile before looking at Finch. "And Finch, what do you like most about Chris?"
"The whole package. And the gift wrapping it comes in," he told her, reaching over to give my knee a squeeze. "But I'm figuring you want more than that. I like her drive and her passion and the fact that she has the worst fucking taste in movies in the world. I like that she cares enough to bully me into quitting smoking, but softens the blow by always making sure I have lollipops. I like her connection with her parents. I like how she thinks that recipes should be followed perfectly, and that there is no room for interpretation. I like how she curls into me in her sleep, and damn near kills me every time we spar."
"You two have sparred together?" Dr. Clark asked, instantly interested, knowing that my training had always been an issue for me, that it was a huge source of insecurity.
"Yeah, we started about a week ago," I told her.
"And how is that going?"
"Well, Doc," Finch said, shaking his head. "It is a good thing I don't mind my body as bruised as my ego. Because this woman is a beast in a ring."
"Really?" Dr. Clark asked, moving her gaze to me.
Because we both knew this was a big deal.
That 'the flinch' was going away.
That I had been able to go full-contact with a male sparring partner without shutting down, without spiraling.
"We have. I actually accidentally gave him a black eye the first day," I told her, wincing at the memory.
See, I liked knowing I could defend myself, but I had a problem with knowing I hurt someone I cared about.
"It's clearly my fault," Finch said, tsking his tongue. "I have such a punchable face," he said, getting a small smile out of my doctor.
"I think you two are on a good path," she decided a few minutes later.
"You hear that, darling? Your shrink approves of me."
"I don't think she said that."
"Really? Because that's what I heard, angel."
"Then you need to get your hearing checked," I told him, smiling.
And when I looked over at Dr. Clark, she was smiling too, eyes warm.
She was right.
We were on a good path.
And I couldn't wait to see where it led.
Finch - 6 Weeks
I heard the gravel crunching on the driveway. Curious, I moved outside, not expecting anyone. Chris had told me earlier that she was out of town for the afternoon. And since Hailstorm business was Hailstorm business, and I knew I couldn't question her about it, I just told her we'd order in when she got back.
But it was her very practical SUV pulling up the driveway, several hours before I expected her.
"What's up, princess?" I asked when she cut the engine, climbed out, her eyes a little panicked. "What happened?"
"I did something," she declared, going around toward the way back.
"Is there a body or something in there?" I asked, a little hurt she would take a road trip without me.
"A body? You'd think I'd bring a body here? Here, where it would trace right back to the both of us?" she demanded, rolling her eyes.
Leave it to my girl to be more offended that I thought she might be careless in discarding of remains than me accusing her of killing someone.
"Alright. then what's in the trunk, doll? You look freaked."
"Well, see, I owed Malcolm a present. He was really good when we went down to Louisiana. I wanted to get him something nice. And I went to pick them up today."
"Them?" I asked, brows drawing together.
"Yes, them," she told me, nodding, reaching for the lift on the hatch. "He's always wanted English Mastiff puppies. He grew up with Great Danes, but he always wanted something more solid. So, I thought it would be a nice gift. Especially now that he has the room for them. But there was a problem," she said, giving me sad eyes.
"What kind of problem, darling?"
To that, she took a deep breath, reaching into the trunk, coming back with one giant English Mastiff puppy full of wrinkles. "This one was just sitting there. Staring at me. With a face like this," she said, face twisting into the most pathetic look she could muster. "And I just... I couldn't leave him there all alone with his friends gone. I know we've never talked about animals. I've honestly never even given any animals thought before. I mean I always wanted a dog growing up, but we could never have one. And then work was so crazy. And I knew I didn't have time for a dog. But now..."
Now she had me: a self-proclaimed ambitious lazy-ass who could work from home, who had plenty of time for taking care of a puppy.
"Show me the face again," I demanded, watching as she shot it at me, eyes even sadder then before while the goofy puppy just sat there with its tongue hanging out.
"Well, there was really no way to say no to a face like that, was there?"
"Exactly. I mean, I didn't want to be presumptuous. I know you have a life too. I should have called and spoken to you about it. I don't even know if you like dogs. Or if you're allergic."
"I'm not allergic. And my grandfather had at least a dozen dogs across my childhood. I've always been a fan, just been moving around too much to get one. Seems like I found my place now, though. Good time to get a dog."
"Really?" she asked, trying to hold back her excitement.
"Really. Did you pick out a name already?"
"I have a list."
"Of course you do," I said, moving closer, reaching out to pet the dog's wrinkly head.