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“What the hell do you know about it?” I ask.
He just shrugs.
“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” I say. “You don’t have a problem with the idea of me getting involved with another man.”
“It would be pretty hypocritical if I did,” says Callie, trying to smile at that. But I’m not laughing.
“You think this is just a whim for me, me being with them?”
Sully sighs. “We talked about this, Finn. You don’t have a great track record when it comes to commitment. We don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Big of you.” I stand up, grab my wallet, and throw some bills on the table.
“Finn, wait,” says Callie, but I shake my head.
“This was a mistake. Forget I said anything.”
I’m out the door before Sully can get out of the booth to follow me.
Jesus, if this is how Weston felt when I found out about him and Callie and Lee, I deserved a lot more than getting punched in return.
The worst part—the part that makes me sick to my stomach—is they’re not wrong. I don’t have much attention span, not for work, and I sure as hell don’t do long-term in relationships. What the hell was I thinking, telling them about Nic and Natalie? We don’t even have a relationship. If anything, we have an arrangement, something convenient for now while I’m watching their office.
And sure, it doesn’t say much for my professionalism that I got involved with the people I’m guarding. But goddamn it… they are worth it.
Aren’t they?
Maybe Callie and Sully are right. I haven’t tried to stick with anybody since Susan left. I thought it was a conscious choice, but maybe it’s just the way I’m made.
Instead of heading up the stairs when I get home, I turn around and hit the pavement for a long, long walk. I need to think.
21
NIC
Tuesday is supposed to be a boring workday. Don’t get me wrong, it is, typically. It helps that I like my work, but my caseload this week is light, and Finn’s been sleeping at his own apartment since Saturday.
And then there’s that couch. That goddamned couch.
I’d burn it, except now I have to keep it for the rest of my life. I can’t even look at it without remembering Natalie, laid out like a work of art across it. Or Finn, saying it was made for blow jobs, then taking my entire world apart with his mouth.
Why did I buy that fucking couch? It’s sitting over there, taunting me with things I shouldn’t have done and would absolutely do again, given the opportunity.
Not that there’s been an opportunity. Finn won’t talk about it, but something obviously happened at brunch with his sister. And if Finn’s not in it, Natalie’s not there either. She claimed it was all of us or none of us, and yeah, I agree with her on principle. But… But…
I hit the button on my phone to buzz Natalie’s desk.
“Remind me to order a new couch.”
The door opens barely a beat later. In walks Finn, hot as hell in his suit today. Today, he skipped the dress shirt in favor of a black Henley tee, and the effect is… making me shift in my chair. He looks like a fucking action movie hero.
“Natalie’s gone to pick up lunch, remember?”
“Right. Forgot.”
“You’re getting rid of the couch?” I can’t identify that note in his voice. He sounds almost stricken.
“Don’t start.” I give him a look.
