Wrapping my brain around that little factoid, I kept my eyes trained on the TV.
“Are those things you want to do?” Finn asked.
I shrugged, still not looking at him. The TV paused and it actually took me a second to realize Finn had purposely stopped it to get my answer. I glanced over at him. Leaned back, plate resting on one muscular jean-clad thigh, his right hand held the remote casually.
“No, I don’t want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane.” I rolled my eyes, but Finn’s expression was curious and unwavering despite my attempt to make light of it.
“Alright then, what do you want to do?”
“You mean besides watch Bear Grylls in silence?” I arched a brow.
That made him smile, but he set the remote on the couch beside him and angled his body toward mine. “Seriously. What are the things you want to do that you haven’t?”
“I don’t know. What are yours?” I asked, deflecting but also, I was curious.
“I want to hike Angels Landing, see all the charming small towns in middle America, try oysters.” He leaned in. “I’m always afraid I’ll bloody hate the things and spit it out in the middle of a restaurant, so I’ve never tried them.” He smiled and I met it, totally enraptured by his answer. His expression softened and he leaned back a little. “I want to have a family someday. A whole van full of them. A boy that’ll carry on the family name, and a whole bunch of girls who I can teach to play soccer and show up the boys.”
“That’s quite a list,” I said finally.
He nodded and resumed eating, clearly waiting for me to go.
“I want to travel. I’d love to see Africa, go back to Australia, take an Alaskan cruise. I’d like to camp… Chance and I used to go with our dad all the time. We’d go out for a weekend. Sleep on lumpy sleeping bags and live off hot dogs and s’mores that we cooked over the fire. Now I’m not even sure I could start a fire or pitch a tent it’s been so long.”
He smirked at that.
“I want to do so many things, but there never seems to be enough time.” I looked down at my lap. “Or courage, I guess. It’s easier to watch Bear Grylls and sit on the sofa. When I first got out of rehab, they said to take things slow. The smallest things can trigger you and I was so worried about relapsing that I created this shell of a life. I guess I didn’t realize it until recently.” And then because I didn’t want him to think me totally pathetic, I added, “Moving to New York will be good for me, I think. Every day a new adventure.”
I’d tried to force some peppy optimism into it, but Finn didn’t look convinced. I didn’t feel it either. I was nervous about living in a big city where I’d only know one person. I had an online support group and a sponsor that I knew I could count on regardless of where I lived, but that was different.
Being an addict made making new friends hard. When I did find friends, they often left me out of social activities that revolved around alcohol, which let’s face it, most did. I understood. People didn’t know what to do or not to do. For as common as addiction was, most people had never dealt with someone in recovery. They were clueless and tended toward being overly cautious and afraid of making a misstep. Or the opposite and a total asshole. Thankfully those were few and far between.
“Is the boyfriend into those things. Travel? Camping?”
“Oh, uh.”
“You don’t know?” Finn quirked an amused brow.
“I guess it hasn’t come up.”
“Well, in all the time you’ve been dating him...”
“Two and a half years,” I supplied.
“So, in that time has he taken you anywhere?”
“We fly back and forth to see one another.”
“That doesn’t count. What about camping?”
“We spent a weekend in a B&B in upstate New York.”
“Unless it was a rustic cabin where you had to help kill your food and cooked it over campfire, I don’t think that counts. Possibly not even then.”
The cute little cottage had been serene and beautiful, but rustic it was not. I snorted as I thought about Richard killing anything. He could probably start a fire though. Maybe. We’d buy one of those fire starter things, it’d be fine.
“Seriously, though, you’re moving across the country to be with the guy, you must have talked about the future or at least thought about what that looks like. Do you want the same things?”
“When did you turn into Dr. Phil?”
“Since my fiancée didn’t show up to our wedding.”
I winced.
“I’m not an expert and probably the last person who should give relationship advice. I guess it’s just easier to poke holes in other people’s relationships than see them in your own.”
Did that mean he saw holes in my relationship with Richard? I was too scared of the answer to ask.
After dinner I thanked Finn for the food and company and feigned a headache and went to my room. I called Richard even though I knew he was probably already in bed.
“Hello?” he answered, his gruff voice sounded more asleep than awake.
“Hi. I’m sorry for waking you.”
“It’s okay. What time is it?”
“Just after eight my time.”
“How was your day?”
“Good. Yours?”
“Long, we got some of the executive offices finished. I’m excited for you to see it. What time does your flight get in on Friday?”
“Just after seven in the morning. I’m on the red eye.”
“Great. We can meet up for lunch afterward. Your interview is three blocks away just past that pizza place we ate at the last time you were here.”
“Have you ever gone camping?”
He was slow to respond, maybe because he was tired or maybe he was thrown by the random topic change.
“Yeah. My buddies and I used to camp over July Fourth every summer.”
“Really?” I smiled.
“Been, gosh, five or six years since we’ve gone.”
“Why’d you stop?”
“Everyone got busy, settled down, had kids.”
“We should go camping sometime.”
“Sure.” He yawned, not sounding all that excited, but I didn’t care. Richard was a camper. That had to be a sign.
“I should let you get to sleep.”
“Alright. I’m excited to see you.”
“Two more sleeps.”
He yawned again. “One and a half.”
Adele
Bobbi pulled a piece of paper off the printer and then slapped it down on my desk. “Why does technology hate me?”
I glanced down at the paper. She’d tried to print a report formatted in landscape, but the settings were in portrait resulting in half the sheet being cut off.
I laughed, tossed it in the garbage and pulled up the documents from our internal shared drive and printed it correctly.
“What will I do without you?”
“It’s only one day. You’ll manage.”
“For now, but they’d be crazy not to hire you. And if they don’t, someone else will swoop you up fast.”
I had mixed emotions about the whole thing. Equally wanting to find a job quickly but not wanting to leave.