Page 2 of On Fire

Not a good spot for a pregnant woman.

I use my pent-up worry to catch up with the hostess before Finn can and get her to move us to a green, upholstered booth in a corner that’s been wiped but not set. Though Claire initially looks uncomfortable as I hiss into the hostess’s ear, she’s also grateful when she scoots into the large wide “C” of the booth.

“Thanks,” she mouths.

Before even sitting down, Finn goes to grab utensils.

As I slip in next to her, she lays a hand on my arm. “He’s fine,” she says. “The baby will be fine—Finn is a rock.”

But we both know a rock can shatter.

Finn’s first wife, Alison, drowned in their pool, murdered, six months pregnant with their first child.

Finn almost didn’t recover. He moved to Maine and tried to just give me his half of our multimillion-dollar business.

I turned him down.

A year later, he bought The Inn at Echo Bay, met the five Russos who grew up there, and fell in love with one of them: the veterinarian next door. Then Claire was targeted by the same killer, and he nearly lost her as well.

During all this, I thought I'd go crazy. I’d suffered a quadruple loss. Alison was also my close friend. Their baby, Kenny, was gone. Our business, in turmoil. And, ultimately, Finn was over the edge. I was afraid I’d lost Finn forever—we were the security company who couldn’t save his wife.

But Claire stepped in and, in her quiet way, reached his core and gave him the strength and permission to turn an abyss of grief into a path forward.

Now Finn is back, working three-quarters of the time, running Colton North from a secured second floor of his inn. We landed the contract for the Jetport in Portland, and we opened a new office on the shorefront that Bryce and Mateus manage.

Spinning off her comment about how Finn is a rock, I say, “This makes the baby a pebble. A Russo-Colton pebble.”

She laughs. “Thank you for not calling it a baby bump.”

Finn returns with flatware rolled up in white cloth napkins. A second later a busser sets down a beer and two non-alcoholic beers, three empty glasses and a decanter of chilled water. Finn must have jumped on ordering beverages.

“What did I miss?” Finn asks, scooting next to Claire while I uncork all three bottles.

“Just catching up,” she says.

But we haven’t discussed the one person I want to hear about.

Finn tucks a strand of dark blonde hair behind Claire’s ear, and she leans her cheek against his finger for a moment. A sigh leaves his lips as he picks up the menu. I’ve never seen him this content and it shows in his body.

Finn’s an extraordinarily handsome man. He's six one, with refined features, and carries himself with the ease of an athlete. He’s lean like me, but he’s muscular. Though I’m a marathoner and lift some, his whole workout is weight-based. He’s added some muscle since he designed a gym in the basement of The Inn. And, as far as I know, he and Claire’s daily morning ocean swims have not stopped.

“You’re awfully quiet, even for you,” Fina says, kicking me once under the table. “I thought we were going to tear up Boston.”

“Kinda hard to do when we’re both drinking non-alcoholic beer,” Claire says to Finn, but coming to my defense. “You know,” she says, picking up Finn and my habit of rotating bottles a quarter turn, “This is actually pretty delish. I might just fool you all and keep drinking it after the baby's born.”

I tip a beer bottle neck in Finn’s direction. “You want to weigh in on this?”

“I’m definitely going back,” he says and we three clink bottles.

In truth, I’ll be a wreck until I hear from Finn after their prenatal appointment Monday. But I need to shift gears. He doesn’t need me worrying about Claire and the baby. We order some pub fare and I avoid the fried pickles and Claire avoids everything fried.

Then I venture into more dangerous territory. For me.

“So how is everyone doing in Echo Bay?”

Talking over each other, I get the rundown on the other Russo sisters, brother Travis, a long weather report and a funny story about a woman who locked herself in one of the bathrooms. Trying to figure out how to point the conversation to the person I want to hear about, I try to be more specific.

“You mentioned Devon, but what about Luke? No relapses? And Devon’s getting along with Dave Keller?” Devon is one of Claire’s sisters. Luke is married to Devon, but he’s also the younger brother of a man I can’t stop thinking about. A man I sat with on a stakeout and the whole time he talked, all I could think about was what his arms would feel like around me.