Page 101 of How To Plot a Payback

A minute passes.

Another.

Another.

“You stole my cat,” he whispers, leaning down. His breath tickles my ear, even as the live-audience laughter booms through the speakers.

I move to reply, and my lips graze his cheek before reaching his ear. “You weren’t giving him enough attention.”

There’s a moment’s pause, and I add, “Also, I have to hand it to you, Finn. You put on a lovely date.”

He laughs quietly, but the tips of his ears are stinging red. The heat?

My eyes dart to Mrs. Teaberry, who’s sitting frontmost in the audience, a truly die-hard fan. “I will say, I’m not sure about your chaperone, though,” I whisper. “She’s not terribly good at her job, is she?”

“Well, it’s a tricky thing when you’ve been waiting for Ashley and Lance to get engaged for a decade,” he replies. “Can’t be too hard on her.” He puts a hand to his chest. “And to my credit, I do provide excellent backup,” he says, his eyes flicking to the group around us. “According to tradition.”

Someone coughs to get us to lower our voices.

I grin. “Is it always like this?”

“Always like what?”

“You know”—my eyes dance around the group—“this intense? This tight-knit a community?”

“If you’re asking if we have bingo nights on Mondays, no. They’re on Tuesdays. Mondays are for arguing over which terrifying plant to introduce next into the community garden.”

I laugh, which causes Mrs. Teaberry’s hands to fly up with demands to rewind. Finn has to remind her it isn’t taped yet, so that’s impossible.

“This must be nice,” I whisper, after Mrs. Teaberry has turned back around. “Must feel like home away from home.”

“When was the last time you went back?”

“A year ago.” And my voice softens as my thoughts drift to the family left behind. “Too long.”

“Agreed.” His tone says he knows the feeling.

I shrug. “You know how Goodwin is now. You see. Even when the world is on holiday, he’s having us work. I love it, but . . .” I take a breath. I don’t like to complain. I don’t like to think negatively, but this is a pain point. “I missed my childhood best friend’s wedding last year. Then right when I got back to LA, Dad went in for emergency pancreatic surgery. I had a time begging off to go back. Even then, I only managed to skid in at the very last second of his hospital stay. I’ve got a niece who has a baptism next week. They aren’t the biggest things, and he makes allowances for the truly big emergencies, but you know how it is. Everyone’s a team. And when you stop, the whole machine stops. Still, though—”

“You’d like to be there, I know.” Finn nods knowingly. “I have two nephews in weekly football games. I’m always hearing about them but never getting to see with my own eyes. No one in their right mind would let me take time off to travel ’cross the globe just to see one, but I would. I’d fly there in a blink.

“I’m in the same boat as you here. I’m aware of what I’m missing.” He takes off his glasses. Rubs his nose. “They’re little blips on the screen, these dinners and games and weddings, but all these blips put together are what makes up the video of our life.”

I nod, my chest swelling as I look at him.

This man gets it.

This man knows better than anyone in my life, even Sonya, what it feels like to love what you do, feel grateful for what you have, but also feel such a massive hole in your heart for the world you’ve left behind.

He gets me.

Finn smiles lightly. “Guess we missed that day in drama class, didn’t we? The consequence of traveling ’cross the globe to follow your dreams.”

He puts his hand on mine.

I take in his grin, and the warmth of his eyes, and the stabilizing weight of his hand on mine, and I shake my head.

Delilah truly misrepresented this man.