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)
His voice faded, and he pushed away from the sink, getting back to work on finalizing all the dishes. It smelled amazing in the galley, all the cheese and garlic and onions and bacon. Even with pain etched into his face, he worked like it wasn’t work at all.
“So, this business partner…”
“Ronan,” Finn said, and his jaw tightened with the name. “He was a family friend, lad I knew since we were in nappies. He came into a big sum of money when his grandparents passed. We ran into each other at a bar a couple months before I left for that charter I met you on, and as we were catching up, I told him my plans for the restaurant.” Finn shook his head. “He knew what Granny meant to me, what this was all about. He told me he’d look into things and see if he could help.
“I couldn’t believe it. I mean, it was like a sign from the universe. Then, about a month before our season was up, he called and said he was ready to go into it with me as a partner — fifty-fifty. He said he believed in the restaurant. He made me believe in it.” His eyes found mine. “And then he bled us dry. By the time I clocked it, there wasn’t a prayer of saving the place. I tried, but it was hopeless. We went under so fast I didn’t have time to abandon ship even if I wanted to.”
“You never would have anyway.”
He swallowed.
“I’m so sorry, Finn.” My chest cracked with the words. I couldn’t imagine working so hard for something like that, for a dream so hard to accomplish, and then to have it all disappear in an instant…
“Thank you,” he whispered. “It just… Jaysus, Ember, it really fucked me up.” His voice broke a bit with that, and the vulnerability of it made my throat tighten. “I’ve never felt such shame in all my life.”
“There’s nothing for you to feel ashamed of,” I said with a frown. “You did everything you could. You would have made your grandmother so proud. You—”
“Should’ve seen the signs plain as day,” he finished for me, eyes hitting mine. “Now I don’t trust me own bleeding shadow, don’t trust me judgement at all anymore — on anything. On anyone.”
“Not even Gisella?”
Oh, God.
My eyes widened at the words I couldn’t believe I’d let slip out, but Finn didn’t seem fazed by them at all. He just finished plating the midnight snacks, one of his shoulders inching up a bit.
That was all the answer I got before it was time to take the food out to the guests. Finn helped me, both of us plastering on wide smiles and Finn even doing a little bow to the applause from the group when we delivered the trays. It was a performance worthy of an Oscar from him, considering the topic of conversation before.
The guests dove in, moaning their appreciation as I got them each situated with bottles of water before Finn and I retreated back to the galley.
The tension was still right where we’d left it.
Wordlessly, we both began cleaning up, Finn focusing on wiping all the surfaces down while I got started on the dishes. He eventually joined me, taking over drying after I washed and rinsed.
“How did things start with you two, anyway?” I asked. “You’ve been dating for a few months… but how did you meet?”
There was no way to make the question sound casual, no way to stop my throat from closing in around the words as they escaped.
Finn took the pan I’d just rinsed and began to dry it, his eyes skirting up to me before he focused on what he was doing. “You really want to know that?”
No.
Yes.
I don’t fucking know, Finn.
I didn’t trust myself to try to answer. After a moment, he took away the choice.
“She was there when everything happened,” he said. “Gi was in Dublin for the offseason the first time I met her, working at a hotel not too far from where the restaurant was. She came in one night for dinner with some of the other employees and we struck up a conversation when I checked on their table. After that, she became a regular, most times coming in to eat by herself. She’d come late, usually our last seating of the night, so sometimes I’d sit with her when I was finished cooking and we just… became friends.”
Acid burned my throat.
Why the fuck did I ask?
“I admit I was still… hung up,” he said, his eyes darting to mine only briefly before they were back on the dishes he was drying. “And I guess part of me thought I needed to start moving on somehow. I thought maybe she was the way.”
Our hands brushed when I handed him a large knife, his fingers wrapping around mine on the handle before I pulled away with my neck burning.