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“I don’t mean the sex. That was before.” Finn is blushing bright red now.
Natalie tilts her head, more curious now than scared. “Before what?”
Finn bites his lip. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man hesitate before. He looks everywhere but at me or Natalie.
“Look. I don’t know what—I care about you,” he says finally, looking at the ceiling this time. “Both of you. Before, it was fun. Obviously. And hot. And I would like to keep doing those things.”
Natalie catches my eye again.
“You mean, right this minute?” I ask, catching on immediately.
“No!” Finn’s head comes back down, frowning fiercely. “I mean, yes, that too, but?—”
Natalie scoots next to him, cupping his face in her hands until he’s looking right at her.
“Finn.”
His arms wrap around her like he can’t help himself.
“I want this to be more than just sex,” he says finally.
I set my drink on the coffee table and move to sit on his other side, my thigh pressing against his. Wrapping an arm around his back, I hug them both where we sit.
“It already is.”
Natalie’s reading my mind already, in that way she does, moving to kiss one side of his neck as I set my mouth to the other side.
“I’m serious,” says Finn on a gasp.
“We are, too,” says Natalie.
That’s the last any of us says for a long while.
Dinner at my parents’ house is a stilted affair, but since they only subject us to it once a month, it’s bearable.
Of course, usually I have Barry to act as a buffer or a distraction. But since he’s still missing in action, this week I’m the lucky recipient of all the parental attention.
Mother has been making steady small talk about various acquaintances since I arrived. I make appropriate noises at the appropriate intervals, but she needs no help doing the heavy lifting in the conversation. I imagine that skill is part of the package of thirty-odd years of being a society wife.
I don’t hate my mother, far from it. Sometimes I resent her, though. And God knows, she has my pity. What kind of life that must be, married to a man who respects you so little. But I suppose everything has its trade-offs. Their home is one of the nicest, oldest mansions in the most established neighborhood in a city where that kind of history matters more than how many actual dollars you have. Or how you treat your wife and children. Or your employees.
I wonder if Dad’s already told her about what happened with Finn.
We make it almost through the end of the meal before he brings it up.
“And that reminds me, Nicolas,” he says, pointing in my direction with his steak knife. “I hope you’ve had time to deal with that situation from the other day.” He raises his eyebrows pointedly in case his hint isn’t heavy enough.
I take a sip from my wineglass and don’t speak.
“Nicolas,” prompts my mother. “Answer your father.”
“He didn’t ask me any questions.”
“Don’t be childish. Have you dealt with the situation I walked in on last week?” He glances meaningfully at my mother.
“Do you mean when you came into my office without an appointment and caught me kissing another man?” I ask. “Is that the situation to which you’re referring?”
Dad’s face reddens. Mother gasps.
