Page 15 of Making Home with You (The Rockport Beach #3)

Finn

My phone chimes out with a text just as I’m getting ready to leave.

Sarah: sorry, got caught up. Just getting train now.

Me: don’t apologize. Hope you had a good day. Will see you soon.

There’s no response from Sarah, so I finish logging off my computer, say goodbye to the duty officer and head outside to my car.

“Finn?”

I freeze at the sound of my name. So much for hoping this was all over, clearly the message has still not been received.

“Carla,” I say, turning toward her.

She offers me a smile as she walks over to me, her gloved hands twisting together as though she’s nervous; her breaths heavy and coming out in tiny white clouds.

“What do you want?” I ask, my words sounding harsher than I intend them too.

“Can we talk?” she asks, stopping in front of me.

I glance at my watch even though I know it’s at least an hour before I have to be at the station to get Sarah. “About what?”

Carla steps closer. “Can we maybe go and get a drink or something?” she asks. “So we don’t have to talk out here?”

I let out a long exhale as I scrub a hand down my face. I don’t particularly want to have whatever this conversation is going to be about at all. Not here in the parking lot or anywhere else.

“I don’t have time, Carla,” I eventually say. “Just tell me whatever…”

“What does she have that I don’t?” she blurts out, cutting me off.

“What?” I reply, confused.

“This woman,” Carla says, waving a hand around as though Sarah is standing right here with us. “What does she have that I don’t?”

Carla meets my stare and although her face has a look of sadness on it, there’s a hardness to her eyes that I can’t read. Neither of us says anything and quite honestly, I have no idea how I am supposed to answer her question at all. For me, it’s never been about what Carla doesn’t have.

“Finn?” she prompts, stepping a tiny bit closer.

I shake my head, stepping backward as I pull my car keys from my pocket. “Look Carla,” I start, having no idea how I can possibly explain this to her in a way that doesn’t piss her off. “It’s not like that,” I start. “You and I, we…”

“We were something once,” she says.

I shake my head at her. “In high school, Carla,” I say. “Like sixteen years ago or something. And it wasn’t even that serious, was it?”

“It was for me,” she says, sniffing.

I take a deep breath, force myself to stay calm even though all I want to do is get the hell out of here.

“Look,” I say, exhaling, “it was one night,” I continue.

“One night, when we were teenagers, fooling around at a party,” I say.

“You’re the one who dragged me into that bedroom.

You even thanked me for the good time before you left.

I assumed you were all okay with everything.

Were okay with it being just a one-time thing too? ”

“Finn,” she says, moving toward me and grabbing my arm so quickly I don’t have a chance to move. “It’s something I’ve regretted ever since it happened,” she says, her words almost a plea. “Not that it happened,” she clarifies. “I just wish I’d stayed, wish I’d told you how I really felt about you.”

“Carla, come on,” I say, pulling my arm from her grip.

I don’t scare easily, but there’s something about this, about the way she’s acting, that worries me.

“You never said anything to me. Not the next time we saw each other or anything. You even married someone else, for god’s sake.

It can’t possibly have meant that much to you? ”

She shakes her head. “It did,” she says. “And you do too. It’s why my marriage never worked out.”

I push a hand through my hair, knowing I need to end this conversation.

It already feels like I’m walking a fine line as it is and the last thing I want is to push things over the edge.

I can’t possibly understand how she can still harbor these feelings for me, especially when at the time we were only ever a one-time hook up.

“Carla,” I say, unlocking my car. “I’m sorry you feel differently about all of this,” I tell her.

“I’m sorry you think there was ever anything more between us than what there really was,” I continue.

“But for me, there will never be anything more, okay? I just don’t feel that way about you and I’m really not saying this to hurt you. That’s not what I’m trying to do here.”

She doesn’t say anything now, just bites her bottom lip as she stares back at me. Not knowing what more I can say, I open the car door and slide into my seat. But just as I’m closing the door, I hear it.

“She’s not right for you, Finn, you’ll see,” Carla says, her voice cold. “And you will regret it.”

Our eyes meet through my windshield and I see the hardness is back in hers now. Without saying another word, I slam the door shut, start the car and drive out. But even as I glimpse in my rear-view mirror and see Carla standing in the darkened parking lot, I know this is far from being over.

Fuck.

It’s almost eight by the time Sarah’s train gets back into Rockport and as I stand on the platform waiting for her, I force myself to stop thinking about Carla and what she meant by me regretting things.

Instead I find myself wondering how long Sarah can possibly keep this up.

Sure, it’s only been one day, but there’s no way she’s going to be able to continue working days like this; a six a.m. train in the morning and then home some fourteen hours later.

It’s too much, and even though I don’t want it to happen, I know her moving to Boston is an inevitability.

“Hey,” I say, smiling as she walks toward me and I pull her into my arms. “How’d it go?”

Sarah shrugs and I can practically feel her exhaustion as she sags against me. “Okay,” she says, pulling back. “It’s really sales focused, which is not my thing, but at least it’s a job.”

I lean in and kiss her before asking, “Were the people nice at least?”

She shrugs again, looking away as she says, “Yeah, they were.”

I duck down and meet her stare. “You sure?” I ask.

Sarah nods. “They were all fine,” she says, smiling a little as she leans back in to kiss me. “I’m starving, should we go eat?”

I steer her toward the car, an arm around her shoulders. “You want to go back to my place instead?” I ask. “We don’t have to go out if you’re too tired?”

“You wouldn’t mind?” she asks, opening the passenger door.

I smile across the roof at her. “Of course not,” I tell her. “How about I drop you at Erin and Ryan’s,” I suggest. “You grab some things so you can stay the night and I’ll go get us some food. Meet you back at my place?”

Sarah returns the smile. “Thank you, Finn, seriously.”

I walk around the car now and take her face in my hands. “Babe,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss her. “It’s all good. You’ve had a really long day.”

Her eyes close as she leans her head against my chest, her hands sliding around my waist. “You’re so good to me,” she whispers.

We stand in silence for a few minutes, hugging in the parking lot of the train station while commuters file out around us. Most of them walk to parked cars, driving off alone, while a few are getting picked up by a family member.

I watch them all, wonder if this could become my life, picking Sarah up each evening and taking her home with me. It’s a fantasy I never thought I wanted, but somehow with her, I find there’s a part of me that does.

Although I will never admit this to Carla, there is something different about Sarah.

But it’s not just different to Carla, its different to every other woman I’ve ever met before.

Sure, we have this intense attraction and chemistry between us that I’ve never had with anyone, but it’s also more than that.

She’s the first woman who doesn’t have any expectations of me.

Doesn’t try to make me or us into something we aren’t.

And while I wish I could somehow tell Sarah all of this, part of me is too scared to admit it out loud, especially when I know she’s eventually going to move to Boston and all of this could be over before it ever has a chance anyway.

“Come on,” I say, pulling back. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

I drop Sarah at Erin and Ryan’s, reminding her again where my spare key is in case she gets to my place before I do, before heading out to grab us some food.

I half expect to run into Carla again, given she seems to have a way of magically appearing wherever I am, but thankfully I don’t.

By the time I get back home, Sarah’s car is in my drive.

“Hey, wine or beer?” Sarah says, holding a bottle of each in her hands as I walk in the front door.

I grin, dropping the food on the kitchen table and pulling her into my arms. “How about this instead?” I ask before kissing her hard on the lips.

I feel her smile against my mouth, before her lips part and she deepens the kiss. Walking us backward, I back her up against the kitchen counter, letting go of her only to take the drinks from her hands.

Sarah’s hands slide around my waist and under my sweater now, her fingers trailing up my spine. “How about we eat and then take a shower?” she murmurs.

“Deal,” I say, kissing the tip of her nose. “Open the wine.”

We chat over dinner, with Sarah telling me about her first day and how her boss’s last assistant now has some high-profile job within the company that could be something Sarah could have one day if she puts in the time.

It feels like she’s holding something back though or she isn’t as excited about the job as she originally thought she’d be. I try to ask her more about that, find out what’s bothering her, but she assures me it’s just the sales aspect, how it’s not really her thing.

“So, what is?” I ask.

“PR,” Sarah says, gathering our plates. “Marketing and promotions, that was my specialty.”

I nod like I know what she’s talking about as I gather up the now empty Chinese containers. “Maybe something will open up in that area?” I offer.

Sarah shrugs. “Maybe.”