Page 15 of The Dangers of Daydreaming (Love Connections #2)

My eyes scanned the flood of images she’d sent. White dresses. Wedding dresses. I swiped through each picture of my mom in various dresses like an accident I couldn’t look away from. But then, in a fit of self-preservation, I closed the text app, staring instead at the home screen.

I had a picture of a quote as my background—very 2010 of me, I know—a flowery script with the words Tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it .

I hadn’t changed it in over a year, so most of the time I didn’t even see it.

But now I read it just to distract my brain.

If only a tomorrow could fix the mistake of my mother’s upcoming nuptials.

“Everything okay?” Finn asked again.

I didn’t look up, tracing the words with my eyes one last time. “Yeah, of course.”

“Could have fooled me.”

I met his eyes, innocently lifting my brows. “Totally good.”

He nodded slowly. “That would explain why you’ve been so fixated on your phone that you didn’t even realize we’re back.”

I blinked, looking around. Sure enough, we were in the gravel circle at the front of the bed-and-breakfast, the big red barn set far behind it, tucked between rows of trees. My cheeks grew hot, and probably the color of said barn.

Curse my red-headed heritage.

“It’s okay, I see how it is. You drag information and—” he faked a shudder, “feelings from me, but get a hall pass on sharing. Fair enough.”

I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say. My mom’s getting married, and I think she’s making the worst mistake of her life but have no real reason for feeling that way?

Yeah, that made a lot of sense.

“Hey.” His voice was quieter. “It’s fine, really.”

I gave him a tight smile.

“Come with me,” he said, pushing open his door.

I followe d him from the car to the B instead, he moved along the back of the ring of sand to a spot where a bench sat just below a towering tree. He sat and looked expectantly at me. I plopped onto the seat next to him, brows raised.

But instead of saying anything, he just switched his gaze to the water.

I followed his gaze, but my thoughts were still churning.

Mom in a wedding dress. Did this mean we were past the point of no return?

Was there no hope she’d back out of this engagement like the last two?

I bit my lip at the thought. What kind of daughter wants her mom’s engagement to fail?

The kind that knows best for her, that’s who. At least, I thought so.

I hated not being sure who was right: my mom, in wanting to get married, or myself, in thinking she’d gone too fast. But over a decade of watching my mom try and fail to be happy in relationships was a pretty clear indication that there wasn’t a happy ending to be had here.

The waves were calming—the exact opposite of my feelings—lapping onto the shore, then pulling back into the ocean, swirling water and sand together before another wave came up.

The sun was almost to the horizon, its color spreading across the sky with several clouds gathering and reflecting its light. I took a deep breath, leaning back.

Finn looked over at me. “Th ere you go.”

“What?”

“It’s like you’ve had a stick up your—”

“Excuse me?”

“—Spine,” he finished with twinkling eyes. “For the last ten minutes. The beach always fixes everything.”

“Could it break off my mom’s engagement for me? That’d really help.”

His teasing grin turned pitying, and I looked back at the water to avoid seeing it.

“You don’t like him?”

“No, he’s fine,” I said, disgusted that I was even sharing this. “I’m the problem.”

“Meaning?”

“You know, I think you were right. Feelings are gross.”

Half his mouth hitched up in a little smile, but he didn’t say anything.

My shoulders sagged. “Meaning, he seems super nice. He’s got a stable job, doesn’t only talk about himself, and he isn’t my age, which is a bonus.

Woohoo,” I gave a fake cheer, twirling my fingers in the air.

“But my mom’s a romantic—she has thought every guy she dated was fantastic, thought they were all marriage material. And they weren’t.”

Finn made a sound of contemplation. I hated to consider what he might be thinking.

Probably that I was worse than a petulant toddler, complaining over my mom finding love.

Maybe I should tell him I felt exactly like that, but I wasn’t able to do anything about it. Deep down, this all just seemed wrong.

I couldn’t stand the silence, so I filled it.

“Two weeks ago, she moved up the wedding. It was supposed to be a Christmas wedding—she even learned how to use Pinterest to pin pictures of evergreen centerpieces and red velvet bridesmaids' dresses. But she and Brian decided they didn’t want to wait that long, and now they’re getting married next month.

One month. In Mexico. She just sent me a bunch of pictures of wedding dresses, and I feel like a horrible daughter because I am so glad I am here inst ead of there.

I don’t want to watch as she rushes to the altar, blinded by… by…”

“Love?” Finn asked.

I winced and barely avoided wrinkling my nose in disgust. “Sure, that, I guess.”

“So that’s the problem? You don’t think she could be in love with this guy for real.”

It wasn’t a question, but I needed to defend myself—to prove I wasn’t crazy.

“She's happiest when she’s alone, you know. She thinks she’s happier when she’s in a relationship, but she was miserable married to my dad, and once she gets over the break-up, she’s like a new person.

She gets out of the house, does stuff, and makes friends… She’s just happier.”

“Is she happier, or does she just put on a good face?”

I pressed my eyes closed. I didn’t even know why I was telling him all of this, I could barely make sense of it in my own head, but I knew my mom. I had been around longer than anybody. Any of the boyfriends, even my own dad—I knew her better. And love was not the answer to her problems.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to push, just trying to figure out how to help.”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean to unload my family drama on you.” And when he’d had such a hard day. Another brick of guilt settled on my chest to add to the lovely little chimney I was building.

His lips lifted in a crooked grin. “I kind of like it, it takes my mind off my own.”

“If you want family drama, let me tell you about this fiancé my cousin has. Talk about someone who shouldn’t get married…”

Finn laughed, his head tipping back with the entertainment. “You really don’t like love, do you?”

“No, seriously, this guy is a piece of work. I’m contemplating standing up and objecting at their wedding like I belong in a Taylor Swift song.”

“Do you need a date for the wedding? I’ll stand up and object with you if this guy is a real jerk.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’m okay on the date front.”

“Is that your way of saying you already have someone going with you?” He wasn’t smiling, but everything in his expression outside of his lips made it look like he was.

His eyes were creased with amusement; even his cheeks looked like they held back a laugh.

There was the Finn I knew—not the sincere, serious one, but the one who would flirt and tease with a scarecrow if it was wearing a skirt.

“No, that’s my way of saying you live in a different country than I do.”

He lifted a shoulder. “They have these things called airplanes.”

“You are very funny. I think I will stick with my tried-and-true date, though.”

“So, there is someone?” His voice was curious, but also something else.

“Yep,” I said, nodding matter-of-factly. “It is called my Kindle and has yet to let me down.”

“Book boyfriends? I have to compete against book boyfriends?”

I ignored his comment about competing; I wasn’t falling for his flirty charms. Instead, I just leaned back on the bench, staring out over the ocean.

The sunset was in its final flare now, bathing the world in warm reds and oranges.

The Salt Lake valley had pretty sunsets, basically just because of the bad air, but this was something else.

“I’m surprised you even know the term ‘book boyfriend.’”

“You forget I run tours on Prince Edward Island. If I had a nickel for every time I had to hear that Gilbert Blythe was somebody’s ‘book boyfriend,’ I wouldn’t need to work anymore.”

I sighed dramatically. “He is pretty perfect.”

Finn made a sound of disgust. “He isn’t real, Lucy.”

I turned my head lazily toward him, half a smile on my face. “But don’t you wish he were?”

“No, yo u know, I really don’t.” He smiled back at me, not a hint of frustration or annoyance in his gaze.

But then his eyes dipped down to my mouth, lingering for half a second before jumping back to mine.

He cleared his throat and looked away. “So, to recap, if I understand correctly, you don’t believe in love… but you love to read about it?”

I wanted to say his perception was entirely wrong, but was it?

I scrunched up my nose, thinking. “I’ve got to admit that the characters in my books sure seem a lot happier than most of the people I meet in the real world.

” I shrugged. “I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who are happily in love, but the odds of finding the right person at the right time?

” I shook my head. “Slim to none. The odds of picking a great book to read about a love story you know will be satisfactory? Much higher.”

Finn studied me, then, slowly, he nodded. “Challenge accepted.”

I didn’t even want to know what he meant by that. The sun was almost gone now, the light wouldn’t be left for long, and I had a lot of work to do. I came to my feet. “I should get going. Thank you for the sunset.”

“Thank you for distracting my Gram and me at the hospital.” He leaned forward a little as if he would stand. “I’ll walk you back.”

“I think I’d like a minute to compose a pleasantly happy text for my mother, if you don’t mind?”

He nodded. “Can you find your way? It’s getting dark.”

“I’m not sure, but if I get lost, I’ll follow the clearly marked path.”

The sound of him chuckling accompanied me off the beach.

I had made it back to my room when my phone dinged. I assumed it was another text from my mom or the cousin chat, but I was surprised to see it was from an unknown number.

Unknown number: I’m currently reading Pretense by Jay Beckett. Feel free to look up the ending and spoil it for me.

Lucy: How did you get my number?

Unkno wn number: You put it down when you checked in. I figured I should have it, just in case we need to discuss Anne of Green Gables tour locations.

Lucy: How thoughtful of you.

Lucy: The police officer is the murderer.

Unknown number: Gasp! That hurts. Guess we’re even now.

Lucy: You've got a long list of grievances before we are even.

Smiling, I saved Finn’s number in my phone.