Page 13 of A Hard Fit (Falling Hard #2)

Meet the Parents

Finn knew it was coming. It was inevitable.

They were making dinner when Rory said it. Finn was simply chopping cabbage, then…

“I’d really like you to meet my parents.”

Finn’s heart galloped around his ribcage like a wild stallion in its new pen. “Okay,” he said, managing to make the two syllables sound calm and collected.

“Yeah?” Rory turned their face up to Finn’s, bright and hopeful.

“Yeah.” He tried to give Rory a reassuring smile.

“Perfect.” Rory resumed their stirring. “They invited us over for dinner Friday. Does that sound good?”

“Just us and them?”

“Just us and them.”

* * * *

“Your parents live in a mansion?” was the first thing Finn said when the house at the end of the drive came into view. He shouldn’t have been so surprised—he knew Rory’s parents lived near the harbor and they owned a huge, successful manufacturing plant—but good God.

“I wouldn’t call it a mansion ,” Rory said, parking at the top of the circular driveway.

“I just fucking did.”

“Right, I forgot to mention…” Rory turned off the car and faced Finn. “Could you maybe…try not to…swear in front of them as much? Or, like…at all? My mom is not a fan.”

Finn wiped his sweaty palms off on his itchy pants. Why did I wear these pants? “Fuck, I’ll try.” He grinned at Rory’s grimace. “That was a joke. I got it. No swearing.”

The morning’s snowfall, the first of the year, now sat in slushy piles along the side of the walk. Finn watched his feet, careful to avoid the mess, but when he got to the step, he paused and stared up at the house. It was modern and imposing—sleek, gray, lots of glass and square angles—basically the complete opposite of his yellow bungalow.

“Hey.” Rory took Finn’s hand and smiled. “It’s going to be fine. My parents already love you.”

“They’d fucking better.”

Rory opened their mouth but Finn cut them off. “Just getting the last one out. I’m good now.”

Finn half expected a butler to open the door as they approached, but it was Rory’s mom and dad, smiling and dressed in the kind of clothing wealthy people wore—muted colors and rich fabrics with a simplicity that screamed money . They hugged and patted Rory, then turned their attention to Finn.

“This is my dad, Jonathan,” Rory said, “and my mom, Lainey. Mom, Dad, this is Finn.”

“Finn!” Lainey took his hand and went in for what Finn thought was going to be a hug, but instead she air-kissed his cheeks. “It is so, so nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” Finn said, fully aware that he had fucked up— er, messed up —the air kisses.

“Finn.” Jonathan shook his hand with a sure, strong grip. “Such a pleasure.”

“Likewise.”

Both of them were close to Rory’s size, significantly shorter than Finn, but Rory took after their mom more, with delicate features and those deep, dark brown eyes.

“Rory has told us so much about you,” Lainey said, taking Finn’s coat.

“Hasn’t shut up about you, really,” Jonathan added.

“Dad.” Rory grimaced. “We talked about this.”

“Oh, please.” Lainey waved a hand in the air. “We’re allowed to embarrass you a little. Besides, I’m sure Finn would be happy to know that you’ve told us all about him.” Both parents turned to stare at Finn expectantly.

“Uh—” Finn stammered. Which was the correct side to take here?

Rory patted Finn’s hand. “You don’t have to answer that.”

Lainey turned with a dramatic sigh and led them past the massive, curving staircase and out of the white marble foyer. “We thought we’d have drinks on the deck,” she said as they passed some sort of study or library, then a formal dining room, and into a living room whose entire back wall was glass and faced the harbor, now only a gray smudge in the fading light.

The deck? Finn wondered. An odd choice, given that it was December and it had snowed. Then again, they probably had heat lamps and a fancy marble fire pit to keep them warm.

Then he saw the deck. He was right about the fancy marble fire pit, but wrong about the heat lamps. Those were not needed, because the ‘deck’ was essentially a second living room that was slightly less indoors than the first. There was a layer of glass storm doors shut against the night, leading to another actual uncovered deck. Ah, yes, there were the heat lamps.

In the second living room, two curved dark gray couches sat on either side of the round marble firepit, where a flame danced over the shining black stones. A barbecue bigger than Finn’s first car sat on one side, gleaming in the firelight. A soothing classical piece played from invisible speakers.

“This is…really nice,” Finn said. ‘Nice.’ Wow, impressive vocabulary, Finn.

“Thank you.” Lainey smoothed her bob. “We had the outer deck added when we did the extension a few years ago and converted this to a transition space.”

“It’s very nice.” Oh my God.

“What can I get you to drink, Finn?” Jonathan asked, stopping at the bar in the first living room. “Beer, wine, scotch…?”

“Wine is fine, thank you.”

“Ooh, could I talk you into champagne then?” Lainey chimed in. “I’ve been dying to open the bottle that Dimitri brought us from France.”

“Oh, no, don’t waste that on m—” Finn started.

“Waste? There’s no wasting champagne! It’s meant to be enjoyed!” Lainey beamed at him. “You’ll have some?” she asked Rory. They nodded as Jonathan pulled the bottle from a wine cooler and arranged four flutes along the bar.

“So, Finn,” Lainey said as they settled on the ‘patio’ furniture that was infinitely nicer than what Finn had grown up with in his one and only living room. She crossed one ankle over the other and rearranged her flowy sweater. “Rory tells us you’re an incredible painter.”

Finn’s mouth dried out. “I, uh—” He flinched when Jonathan popped the cork.

Rory squeezed his knee. “Finn has a really hard time accepting compliments.”

“I—” Goddamn it. Now his tongue was dry and there was a lump in his throat.

“Is there anywhere we could see your work? Jonathan and I have memberships to a few galleries in town…”

A few? “Not really, or I mean, no, I—” He fumbled for one of the flutes Jonathan offered on a tray. “It’s just a hobby.”

“Oh?”

“He hangs them in his house,” Rory offered. “And has a whole gallery’s worth in his garage, actually.”

“Well…maybe we could see those someday? Cheers!” Lainey offered her glass for clinking.

“Cheers,” Finn mumbled, trying to picture Lainey and Jonathan sitting in his tiny living room and failing miserably.

“What do you paint?” Lainey asked.

Finn took a small sip, the bubbles tickling his nostrils until he thought he might sneeze. He wiggled his nose. “Abstract expressionism, mostly. People. And, um…feelings.”

“How lovely.”

Finn squirmed under her attention and was relieved when Jonathan joined them.

“Oh, Rory, you wouldn't believe who stopped by the plant the other day,” Jonathan said as he sat with his drink. “Patrick Harrington!”

Finn didn’t know who the fu—fudge Patrick Harrington was, but he was happy the focus was no longer on him. He took another sip. The champagne was delicious, of course. Nice and bright, with a hint of a floral note.

“Who?” Rory asked.

“Oh, you know Patrick Harrington, dear,” Lainey said. “Abigail and Hugh’s son? The one we tried to set you up with? You went on a date.”

“Him?” Rory wheezed. “That was not a date! I talked to him for five seconds at that horrible cocktail party you made me go to. Also, I seriously cannot believe you are bringing it up now.”

“Oh, what’s the harm? It’s not like you two were serious.”

“There was no ‘you two,’ Mom.”

Lainey sighed and swirled her drink.

Jonathan continued, put out at having his story interrupted. “Anyway, Patrick has been doing some contracting for Bill Thatcher—you remember him.”

“Yes, Dad, I know Bill.”

“Well, Bill’s been having some trouble with a supplier out of Tulsa, so he got Patrick on the case, and he actually ended up going to Tulsa, if you can believe it! Was there for a damn week!”

Finn took another sip. He tried not to look bored while Jonathan went on about Bill and Patrick and other people Finn didn’t know. As his thoughts wandered, the giant Christmas tree in the main living room caught his attention—at least ten feet tall and wrapped with gold ribbon and white lights. To be honest, he expected matching designer ornaments, but it looked like many of them were handmade.

Rory nodded along politely to their dad’s story as the champagne dwindled, shooting Finn the occasional apologetic look.

Even Lainey got bored eventually, and she got up to refill her flute. “How is work going for you two?” she said as she sat again, taking advantage of Jonathan’s pause when he finally took a drink.

“Great,” Rory said. “Really busy, but some fun projects.”

“Rory has been helping me with the overhaul of a client’s brand—they designed a whole new website and app,” Finn said proudly.

“ We designed it,” Rory said, squeezing Finn’s hand.

Lainey smiled at Rory fondly, then jolted as she remembered something. “Oh! I’ve been dying to tell you, Stanley found the rubber duck!”

“He did?” Rory dissolved into laughter. “What did he say?”

“He was so confused!” Lainey was tittering too, and even Jonathan joined in. “You should have seen his face when he walked in. ‘Mrs. Barrett, I just found this rubber duck glued under my desk…’”

The three of them laughed, until Rory noticed Finn’s face. “Oh, Stanley took over my job at the plant. We do this thing with rubber ducks… I’ll explain later.”

“Can’t wait,” Finn said, trying not to sound sarcastic.

“I hope you two are hungry,” Lainey said, smoothing over the awkwardness. “Hadir has been cooking all day.”

“Yum, what did he make?” Rory asked.

“Who’s Hadir?” Finn blurted at the same time.

“Our chef,” Lainey said, as if Finn was slow. “He’s been around for years. He’s like family.”

“You have a chef?” Finn hadn’t meant to add a follow-up question.

The other three all stared at him.

Lainey recovered first. “Sometimes,” she breezed. “Mostly dinner, the odd lunch or special event.”

“Ah.” Finn took a sip only to discover his glass was empty. “How…nice.”

Lainey hopped up again. “Let me get you some more champagne.”

“Yes, please,” Finn said. Lots more .

* * * *

Lainey apologized about fifteen times on the way to the kitchen. “I just thought the dining room was too stuffy for the four of us. I hope you don’t mind eating at the kitchen table?”

“It’s fine, Mom,” Rory assured her.

The ‘kitchen table’ looked like a full-size dining room to Finn, also with windows facing the bay all across the back. A long rustic farmhouse table, no doubt painstakingly handmade, dominated the space. It belonged in a home-decor magazine, with layers and layers of linens, white ceramics everywhere, and pinecones, greenery and goddamn napkin swans.

“I see where you learned to fold napkins,” Finn whispered to Rory.

“Oh, yeah,” Rory said, sheepishly. “Lenora taught me.”

“Who’s Lenora?” Finn asked, then instantly wished he hadn’t.

“Um. The housekeeper,” Rory murmured.

I think that’s a ‘Rich People’ bingo . Jesus.

Hadir had already cleared out, but a mouth-watering meal waited—roasted chicken with peppers and zucchini, sauteed mushrooms and a spinach and quinoa salad.

They were just beginning to serve themselves when there was a banging noise from down the hall. Finn jumped but no one else seemed alarmed.

“Griffin?” Lainey called. Her spoon paused over the mushrooms. “Is that you?”

There was more banging, then, “Mom?” someone called.

“In here, dear!” Lainey called. “It seems Griffin is back,” she said to the table, tone unreadable.

Finn steeled himself. The younger brother.

“Goddamn skateboard,” Griffin muttered as he stalked into the kitchen. “Bailey’s shit is everywhere in the mudroom. Could barely find room for my snowboard. Oh, hey,” he said, stopping abruptly at the sight of the elaborate dinner. “Sorry to interrupt.” Griffin looked a lot like Rory, but a little taller, more angular. Where Rory was delicate, Griffin was sharp. And he didn’t seem the tiniest bit sorry.

“Nonsense.” Lainey stood and went to kiss the interloper. “You’re not interrupting.”

“You kind of are,” Rory mumbled.

Griffin flipped a middle finger at Rory behind Lainey’s back, then noticed Finn.

“Griffin, this is my partner, Finn,” Rory said. “Finn, this is my brother, Griffin.”

“Nice to meet you,” Finn said, half standing and offering a hand to shake.

“You too,” Griffin said, ignoring the proffered hand and wandering over to rummage through the fridge.

“I thought you were getting home tomorrow, Griffin?” Lainey called.

Sorry , Rory mouthed at Finn.

Finn shook his head. It’s fine.

Griffin emerged from the fridge with a bottle of lager in hand. “I thought so too but Tristan had to come home a day early for some fucking reason, something about his kid’s gymnastics meet being changed.” He popped the top off and took a long swig.

“Language, please,” Lainey said.

“I’ve been up since five, Mom. Give me a break.” Another gulp. “Actually, do you guys mind if I crash here tonight?”

“Well, as I imagine your cab is long gone…” Jonathan said dryly, almost under his breath.

Rory snickered.

“Have you eaten, dear?” Lainey asked, giving her husband and other child a healthy dose of side eye.

“I had a few bites of some dry-ass roast on the plane…” Griffin looked pointedly at their spread.

“Get a plate and join us, won’t you?” Lainey patted the empty chair next to her. The table easily fit four chairs on each side.

“Mom…” Rory hissed while Griffin retrieved a plate from the cupboard.

She gave Rory a ‘well, what do you want me to do?’ shrug.

Griffin squinted at Finn as he sat. “Sorry, who are you?”

“This is my partner, Finn,” Rory repeated. “He’s just meeting Mom and Dad for the first time.”

“And I’ve crashed the party, haven’t I?” Griffin dug into the chicken, chuckling. “So how did you two meet?”

“We work together,” Finn replied.

“Huh.” Griffin took a bite and studied them some more as he chewed. “I could never work with someone I was banging.”

“Griffin!” Lainey scowled. “We are at the dinner table!”

Griffin rolled his eyes and reached for a bun. “We’re all adults here, Mom. At least I didn’t say ‘fucking.’”

Finn tried not to laugh while Lainey glared at Griffin. Jonathan stuffed a rather large bite of salad in his mouth. Not a bad plan , Finn decided, and he followed suit.

The rest of the meal passed by with a steady hum around the table. Griffin rattled on about his ski trip, Jonathan talked more about work and Lainey filled them in on their upcoming trip to Tuscany. Rory peppered them all with questions and did their best to draw Finn into the conversation.

Finn had absolutely nothing to add.

* * * *

Finn was coming back from the washroom after dessert, slightly fuzzy from the champagne and full belly, when he nearly ran into Griffin, barreling around a corner in the dim hallway.

“Sorry,” Finn muttered, trying to sidestep him, but Griffin planted his feet in the middle of the hallway and jabbed a finger in Finn’s chest.

“I hope you’re treating Rory good,” Griffin said, with his beer breath.

Finn stared at the finger, trying to make sense of this man threatening him. “You’re worried about me treating Rory well?”

“Rory is…special. They deserve someone who treats them that way. And if you hurt them, I’ll kick your ass.”

Finn brushed Griffin’s finger away with a smirk. “You should know, Griffin…” He jabbed his own finger in Griffin’s chest. “I treat Rory like fucking royalty, and if you threaten me again, I’ll kick your ass.”

Griffin blinked at Finn for a second, then burst into laughter. “Fucking right.” He patted Finn on the shoulder and continued on to the washroom, still chuckling. “Fucking right.”

* * * *

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay over? Your room is always here…”

They were standing in the doorway, bundled into their winter coats and so ready to leave. This was Lainey’s fourth offer for them to spend the night, at least.

“No, thanks, Mom.” Rory kissed her on the cheek.

“Thank you for an amazing dinner,” Finn said again.

She hugged Rory, then Finn. “Please visit again soon, Finn. You’ll come for Christmas dinner, won’t you? I don’t know if your own family will be gathering that day…?”

“Oh, yes—I mean, no,” Finn stammered. “I mean, I can come. Thank you.”

“I am so sorry about Griffin,” Rory said the second they were back in the car. “Trust him to show up. He can be so oblivious sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Finn said. “He and I… We came to an understanding.”

“Oh, did you?”

“I might have threatened to kick his ass.”

“Yeah?” Rory started the car and cranked the defrost up to high. “He could probably use an ass kicking. But otherwise…you had fun, right?”

Finn leaned over to kiss Rory. “Right.”

As he buckled up his seatbelt, he realized it was the first time he’d lied to them. Because all the dinner had done was remind him that he did not belong in this family. Would he like to fit in, feel comfortable sipping champagne in front of a marble firepit on a covered deck while the chef made dinner and everyone loved and supported everyone else? Sure.

But he never would.