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Finn’s cousin smiles, diverting away from the café door and coming up to give me a hug.
“Good to see you, Natalie. How are you?”
“I’m good. Great,” I say. Moira clears her throat. “Oh. Sully, this is my friend Moira. Moira, this is Sullivan?—”
“Call me Sully,” he says. His smile falters, and for the life of me, I cannot figure out why. Men falter plenty around Moira, but they’re usually smiling when they do it. She’s incredibly lovely, poised in that innate female way I somehow missed. And if that wasn’t enough to make men trip over their own tongues, the gorgeous Irish copper-red color of her hair usually did the rest.
It’s hard sometimes, having a beautiful woman for a best friend. If I didn’t love her so much, I’d be tempted to hate her.
Moira shakes his hand, looking puzzled. “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”
Sully shakes his head, giving a half-hearted attempt, his smile flickering like a busted streetlight. “I’m sure I’d remember.”
Moira snaps her fingers. “Rusty’s. The pub over on Tavers. I’ve seen you in there.”
Sully’s mouth drops open but just as quickly snaps shut. “Could be,” he says, stepping back. “I’ve got to go. Good to see you, Natalie. Tell Finn to call me sometime. Nice to meet you, Moira.”
He’s gone before I can say another word.
“That was weird,” says Moira, frowning into her cup. “Is he always like that?”
“Not at all.”
“How do you know him?”
“He’s Finn’s cousin,” I say. “And speaking of Finn, I’d better get going. They’re expecting me home any minute now.”
“Home, huh?”
I can’t stop the smile splitting across my face.
“Yeah.”
Moira looks at me, no teasing, no suggestive questions. Just looks at me.
“You’re happy,” she says.
“Yes.”
She gets up, pulling me into an uncharacteristically big hug. When she pushes me back, I’m shocked to see tears in her eyes.
“Oh, shut up,” she says, laughing it off. “I’m happy for you. Nobody deserves it more than you, Natalie.”
Just for that, I hug her again.
Letting myself in with my own key is still a thrill. The apartment is quiet, but for Cat meowing at me from the back of the sofa.
“Where are they, huh? Out for a run?” I ask him, scratching behind his ears.
A heavy thud comes from down the hall.
Not out running.
A broken moan confirms it. Toeing off my shoes, I creep down the hall, wondering just what kind of scene I’ll find this time.
Finn has a serious thing for getting caught fooling around. He bent me over the sink in the bathroom just two days ago; the door cracked open just enough. Somehow, he timed it exactly right so Nic would get home and see… well, he’d gotten an eyeful. And we’d all gotten off after that.
Sure enough, this time, the bedroom door is open, but instead of finding Finn at work seducing Nic, he’s standing at the foot of the bed, holding the footboard in a death grip, with Nic kneeling at his feet. Finn’s angled away, just enough he won’t be able to see the door, even if he manages to open his eyes.
