Page 24 of By All Accounts
“Lead the way,” he said.
So I did.
CHAPTER 9
FINN
I’d expected many things after showing up at Sophie’s house. One of which being some kissing and heavy petting. One of the things I’dneverexpected was to come face to face with Daniel again. The worst part was, if the tables had been turned, Daniel would have run screaming in the other direction. He would have remembered how things ended between us, and he would have done everything in his power to keep me away from his future wife.
But Sophie had been the one at the paint store. Sophie had been the one on the other end of the phone call.
Though…
Daniel had been the one to open the door. Daniel had been the one to let me in.
He and I followed Sophie to the couch, ever obedient. They had a sectional, a green velvet thing with flat arms and a flat back, broad cushions that looked soft and well-worn. Sophie tucked herself into the corner, holding her wine in those delicately manicured fingers of hers. She had her ring on, still, again, and I cursed her for not having it on the day I’d met her.
Maybe I could have saved us all the trouble and known better.
But it had taken me far too long to learn my lesson with Neil and Annette. Daniel, it seemed, and now his fiancé, would be just as hard of a lesson for me to learn now. Regardless, I still didn’t know the order of things, so I waited for Daniel to sit down—beside Sophie—before I sank into the opposite corner of the couch. Sophie had the sectional on her side, but I pressed my shoulders against the back of the couch just the same.
I rested the top of my hand against the arm of the couch, my drink nestled comfortably in my palm. Daniel had given me extra cherries, but I worried if I ate any of them, I’d be sick.
“On second thought,” Sophie said, untangling her legs from beneath her. She set her wine on a coaster on the table, then stood and drummed her nails against the back of the couch. “I think I’m going to check that work email after all.”
I snorted, giving her a look that let her know I was on to her. She’d stayed close to make sure I wasn’t a threat to her relationship or her future husband. Once she decided I was safe—or safe enough—she was clearly content to give Daniel and me enough space to finish the conversation neither of us had ever wanted to have.
It was unavoidable now.
We both waited until she’d gone, and then turned toward each other at the same time.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” he said softly.
“LA isn’t that big of a town.”
“You know what I meant.”
I sipped at the perfectly made drink and nodded. “I know. Daniel, I…”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I need to do a lot more than apologize.” I shifted around, set my drink on the table and then moved to face him again. My heart slammed violently against my ribs, but the only way out of this was through it.
I mean, I could have gotten up and left. Could have walked out on them both and not looked back. I didn’t deserve Daniel, I barely knew Sophie, and I didn’t need the complications that came with the two of them. But I sat and I stayed, rapt at Daniel’s whiskey-colored eyes and the lush green walls I knew wrapped their bedroom. My curiosity had gotten the better of me, and I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to survive it a second time.
“How would you make it up to me, then?” Daniel asked.
My mouth went dry, and I glanced instinctively over his shoulder toward the dim hallway Sophie had disappeared down.
“Don’t worry about her,” he said. “This isn’t between the three of us. This is you and me, yeah?”
My breath stuttered out of me, and all I could do was stare at him. Daniel watched me passively, but the slight quiver of his chin was a tell. He might try to exude a cool and collected demeanor, here in his living room where I was clearly at a disadvantage, but I remembered well enough what he looked like when he came, when he was close, when he wanted it. Daniel’s face was a map with topography so obvious a second grader could read it.
“Yeah.”
Daniel shifted, laying his arm across the back of the couch, his knees bent and angled toward my body.
“You never told me their names.”
