Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“Finn, what the fu—”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“So why did you?!”
The words might as well have been a foghorn in a cave for how they echoed in the space between us. Finn’s jaw muscle ticced, his hand releasing me, but I didn’t try to run this time.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the restaurant until the night before we were supposed to leave?” I asked, chest heaving. The question felt like a rusty nail driven into my heart. “Why did you let me assume you were serious about us when you weren’t?”
You’re wearing a mic.
They’re watching you.
I didn’t care.
“I was,” Finn croaked, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard. “I was serious about us. That’s why I couldn’t tell you.”
I frowned, shaking my head. “What? That makes zero sense.”
“I was torn between opening a restaurant to honor the woman who practically raised me, who gave me my life’s passion, who instilled the love of food and cooking so deep in my soul it’s forever a part of me…” He paused, rolling his lips together, his eyes flicking between mine so fast it was dizzying. “And you. The woman I loved. The woman I knew I’d lose in the process.”
All the blood drained from my face, a numbing sensation sliding over me like a cold waterfall.
“It wasn’t black and white, Em. It wasn’t easy. It fucking killed me.”
I didn’t know if it was his words or the alcohol or a combination of the two, but I suddenly felt very unsteady, the world spinning around us in a violent swirl of colors. I reached my hand behind me until I found the brick, then I let myself lean back, hoping it would steady me.
“The restaurant was for her?”
Finn swallowed, but didn’t confirm. He didn’t have to.
“You never told me that.”
“When could I? As soon as I told you about wanting to open the damn thing, you shut me out.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but slammed it shut again.
“Do you know how bad that hurt?” he asked, stepping closer. “I’d never told anyone about it. You think I didn’t know it was stupid, that it was a long shot? Young chef wants to open their own restaurant, how fucking original.” He threw his hands up and let them slap against his thighs. “It wasn’t just a pipe dream for me. It was a way to honor Gran and her legacy, to do what she always wanted to do but never could because she was too busy taking care of her kids, her grandkids, our whole fucking family. Telling you, telling anyone meant exposing the rawest parts of me.”
He wet his lips, breath coming in ragged pulls.
“I was already afraid of failing. I was already afraid I wouldn’t live up to her memory, that I wouldn’t do her justice. And then the first person I felt safe to tell proved to me why I was so scared in the first place. You dismissed it. You dismissed me.”
I blinked, over and over, my heart thundering in my ears and lungs struggling to give me oxygen. I pressed a hand against my aching rib cage as my mind raced to catch up.
“I didn’t know,” I whispered. “I… I’m sorry, Finn.”
“No, don’t,” he said instantly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know it was on me. I should have told you sooner. I just… I didn’t want to until I was certain it would happen. I was waiting to hear from my potential business partner, and I didn’t… I couldn’t tell you until I knew for sure.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, nodding. My brain was still swimming from all the alcohol. My mouth was dry. I needed water. I needed sleep.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
When I did, tears pricked my eyes.
“You think I didn’t try to find a way?” he asked, stepping more into my space. He was just inches away, his eyes searching mine. “You think I didn’t scour my brain for any possible chance I could have both — you, and the restaurant? But like you were so quick to point out that night on the beach, there’s no yachting season in Dublin, Firefly.”
I closed my eyes at the nickname, at how it still made my stomach flip.
“I knew it wasn’t the place for you to chase your dream.” He swallowed, waiting until I opened my eyes again before he continued. “And still, I asked you. I asked you to leave your passion so I could chase mine. It wasn’t fair, and I can see now why it hurt you. I didn’t get it then, even though I should have, because you shared everything with me. I was just angry and thought you were choosing yachting over me.” He shook his head. “Feckin’ eejit, I was — thinkin’ what I was buildin’ mattered more than what you’d spent years fightin’ for. It was selfish and I’m sorry. But what I regret most is that I never asked the obvious next question.” His eyes flicked between mine. “I asked you to walk away from yachting. What I never asked was if you’d make Dublin your home in the offseason.”