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I smiled, thinking about Alistair complaining that I was a monk, regrowing my virginity. “Juliet, you don’t know me at all.”
“Of course I don’t.” She raised her hands and gestured around the car. “You have this nice car and those expensive clothes. You live to annoy me. What else should I know?”
“Plenty. We’ve basically been in-laws for over a decade. I know a lot about you.”
“That’s because you’re a stalker. And because you know everyone, including Denver Gilchrist.”
“I like Denver,” I said, which was true. It had been nice to call him up. We had talked for a long time. He’d told me that I should come to the Road Kings’ studio and make a solo album, and he hadn’t been joking. I’d been thinking about it ever since.
“Yeah, you two are a mutual fan club,” Juliet grumbled. “But I don’t know you, Finn, because I don’t talk to my family very often and I see them even less. You might have noticed. I’m too busy to think about you much. I just assume you live in a mansion made of glass and sleep on piles of money with your fourteen-year-old girlfriend.”
“My what?”
She couldn’t help smiling, because she loved to shock me.
I shook my head. “Well, you’re going to see where I live for yourself. You should have paid closer attention, because I exited the interstate fifteen minutes ago. We’re taking a detour to my house before we go to Seattle.”
EIGHT
Juliet
His house? We were going to Finn’s house?
I hadn’t meant any of that, about the mansion or the teenage girlfriend. I was lying when I said I hadn’t thought about him. I couldn’t help saying it, though. I had been in this car too long with Finn, and he was right next to me, and I kept inhaling the same scent that I’d smelled in my bed. And he’d told that story about the breakup to Tom Petty, which made me think about him dating someone, anyone. It made me wonder about the words a lot going on, none of it good. I thought you might have to be crazy to break up with a guy like Finn, so I had to paint him as an asshole in my mind. I just had to.
I was already itchy under my skin, anxious about seeing Vicki and Mom, about this weekend. Flustered by Finn. And now I was going to see where he lived.
“Why are we going to your house?” I asked, trying not to let my panic come through in my voice.
He didn’t look at me, kept his eyes on the road. “Because I’ve been away for almost two weeks, and I miss Gary.”
That threw me like a punch to the stomach. “Gary? Who’s Gary? Jesus, Finn—you’re gay?”
He coughed, then regained his composure. “No, I’m not gay. Gary is my dog.”
I put my hand over my mouth.
There was a second of silence from both of us.
“I’m trying not to laugh,” Finn admitted, biting his lip.
I dropped my hand. It was funny. And awkward. And—fuck. “Who names their dog Gary?” I shot out in my own defense.
“I do,” he replied with logic.
“Well, it sounded weird. It sounded like you’re gay.”
He cleared his throat. He really was trying not to laugh. “I’ll admit that. But Gary is my dog, I promise. He’s old, and I’m not away often, so I need to drop in on him. I hired a daily dog sitter, but it isn’t the same. He likely thinks I’ve either abandoned him or I’m dead.”
“I thought you were home all this past week,” I said.
Finn shook his head. “I stayed in Portland. I did plan to come home, but I changed my mind. I like Portland, and the week gave me the chance to take care of some things. Like I said, I don’t get away very often. I’ll just check on my dog and re-pack my bag for the weekend. It won’t take long.”
I watched the scenery go by out the window, the damp brown February landscape. I hadn’t been entirely truthful, either, when I said I knew nothing about Finn. Mom had talked about him plenty over the years, because why wouldn’t she? He was her famous son-in-law.
He was quiet, reclusive. He didn’t socialize much, though he and Alistair were close. When their father was sick, Finn had moved him into his house and taken care of him to the end. It didn’t matter how rich or spoiled you were, that was a shitty thing to happen.
A lot going on, none of it good.
