Page 10 of Unsteady: How to Fail at Flirting
Finn holds onto me for dear life. It’s cute.
When we finally have wrapped all of the ribbons around the pole in a stunning array of colors, the music stops, and everyone claps.
There’s lemonade and sweet tea on the sidewalk for a dollar a cup, raising money for the women’s shelter. Finn overpays by a lot for two cups of sweet tea.
We stand on the grassy easement along the road as the crowd disperses. I drink my tea as the musicians pack up their instruments. The old folks put their shoes back on and hustle down the street to the Bluejay Café. Families gather up their children, and everyone in between heads off to work.
Like I said: short, colorful, weird, and sweet.
“That was a first for me.”
“And you didn’t step on a single foot,” I tell him.
“Thanks to you,” Finn says, clearly buttering me up ahead of the tough conversation we’re about to have.
I dive in. “So where did you go?”
He chokes a little bit on his tea. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t pride myself on the fact that I rattled him.
“Oliver was supposed to give you my number.”
I wait for further explanation, but none comes.
“You could have asked him to get my number from Iris.”
He thinks about this. “You’re right. The truth is…complicated.”
My heart sinks. “Wife drama.”
“No.”
“Girlfriend drama.”
“No.”
I sigh. “Oh. So I just suck at flirting.”
He tosses back the rest of his tea and then chucks the cup into a nearby trash can. He rubs his hands together, seeming deep in thought. “After you left the booth, I got word about a major job site accident involving my company.”
Oh. Well, now I feel like a jerk. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Is everyone OK?”
He nods. “Minor injuries. Everyone is fine. But it’s been a hornet’s nest of phone calls and paperwork and getting the run-around from insurance and lawyers. Everything is squared away now. Everyone is perfectly fine.”
That’s the second time he said the word “fine.” But he’s not fine, himself.
“Come on,” I say, taking him by the hand and leading him up the street.
He doesn’t ask where we’re going. Good.
We end up at the Four and Twenty Bakery, where I order a strawberry pie made for two from Evelyn at the counter, which comes with two forks.
We sit at the table by the window. I hand him a fork. Finn takes a bite, and the noise that he makes at the first taste of strawberry pie makes me blush.
“My god.”
“It’s good, right?”
“Damn good.”
