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His hands froze on the pair of dress pants he was about to pull from the hanger, but he didn’t look at me. “That isn’t necessary,” he said.
“It is, though. Just hear me out.” I crossed my legs and began. “Back when The Muffins were still together, Vicki worked at a restaurant. One of her coworkers lived in a mansion owned by his famous brother, and he was throwing a party. Vicki was going, and I decided to go, too.”
Finn’s hand had paused on the pants, and now he slid them off the hanger. “I know this story,” he said, sounding miserable.
“I don’t think you do. So I went to the party in a celebrity’s house. I knew who the celebrity was, because I’d heard his big hit song, but that was it. I was looking to party, and it was something to do.”
Finn stepped into the dress pants and pulled them up. I felt a pang of sadness as the boxer briefs disappeared. No matter, because if I had my way, I’d see them again later, and plenty more.
“The thing was,” I continued, “I had brought my boyfriend to this party. I’d had a bad feeling about him for a while, but I’d pretended it wasn’t happening, which I was good at. My boyfriend disappeared, and he was gone too long, so I went looking for him. I walked into the kitchen, and there was this guy.” I lifted my hands and framed Finn with my fingers, like a cliché of a movie director. Finn was still shirtless with those sexy pants that fit him perfectly. He turned and gave me a dark look.
“Juliet,” he protested.
“Ssh,” I said. My hands were still up, framing his perfection. “This guy—it’s hard to describe. He was gorgeous, of course. Hot. But when he looked at me, something happened. I mean really happened, deep down. And when he talked to me, it got worse. It was nothing like I’d ever felt before. It was so… much that I had to convince myself it was nothing, that it couldn’t possibly be happening.”
Finn sighed softly and turned back to his clothes. He picked up his dress shirt and slid it on, over his shoulders. He started to button.
“I had to snark at him,” I said. “I had to try and bait him, because that was my way. I didn’t know how else to act. I just wanted to get a reaction. I wanted to see him smile. If I had been single that night, I would have walked right up to him and kissed him. Just planted one on him with barely a word and taken my chances. And I wasn’t sure, but I thought maybe he might have kissed me back. It was that kind of moment. Once in a lifetime. Amazing.”
Finn said nothing as he tucked his shirt into his pants.
“Was I a little drunk?” I continued on. “Yes, I was, but that wasn’t the reason. The reason was him. The reason was me. It was us. And I was so young that I thought that kind of moment must be something that happens every once in a while, to everyone. It was only later that I realized that moment was something so rare you should seize it when it happens.” I lowered my hands, removing Finn from his frame. “But I didn’t seize it, and while ‘Creep’ by Radiohead was playing, I understood that the boyfriend I’d brought to the party was cheating on me down the hall.”
Finn had looped his tie around his neck and was adjusting it. “I know this story,” he said. “He ruined that song for you.”
“You don’t understand,” I told him. “He didn’t ruin that song for me. You did.”
Finn’s hands stopped, and he looked at me.
“You ruined it,” I said again. “I said See you never, and the minute the words were out, I hated them. I told myself we’d never see each other again, that I’d forget you. But I didn’t. I kept thinking about the boy I met, wondering where he was and if he was okay, wondering if he’d found someone else. It bothered me, thinking about that. It shouldn’t have, but it did. And after the cheating boyfriend was long gone and I didn’t remember anything about him anymore, I still remembered that boy in the kitchen. I couldn’t listen to ‘Creep’ anymore. I couldn’t listen to ‘Ice Cream Girlfriend,’ either, or the albums you made after it. I pretended that Finn Wiley didn’t exist, that I had never met him and never would, and still—I thought about him for thirteen years.”
Finn had turned while I was talking, and now he faced me. His brows were drawn down. I stood up and came close to him, adjusting his tie and buttoning the button at his collar.
“I don’t know how you did it, Finn,” I said. “We never dated, and we never even kissed. And you were still my worst breakup. I got over the others, but not you.”
He was barely breathing. I could see his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, and I could see the pulse in his throat.
“I thought about you,” he said, “when I was in Paris, lying on the grass, looking at the sky. I figured you would find someone, some man who wasn’t me. I had to tell myself that, because I was trying to stop thinking about you. I never got over you, either.”
I looked up into his face, taking in its precious shape, those beautiful blue-gray eyes. “I love you, too,” I said. “Let’s not get over each other, Finn.”
His hands came up and cupped my jaw. “Juliet, I want to kiss the hell out of you, because I’m crazy about you. But you’re wearing lipstick.”
We smiled at each other, acknowledging that we’d had our reunion at an awkward moment when we couldn’t mess each other up. “I could redo my makeup,” I said.
“Then we’ll be late.”
I wanted to say fuck it, but he was right. We’d come this far. I couldn’t be late to my sister’s wedding now, when it started in thirty minutes. The civil ceremony was happening in the party room of the hotel, an elevator ride away.
Finn stepped back and quickly put on his shoes and socks. “How long is the ceremony? It can’t be more than half an hour.”
“Then pictures,” I said, following his train of thought.
“An hour for pictures,” Finn agreed.
“There’s a dinner tonight,” I added, “instead of a reception.”
He nodded and straightened, grabbing his jacket. “How long between the pictures and the dinner? Two hours or so?”
