Page 6 of The Engagement Gift (The Gift 1)
No, the way we met was simple.
He was with a friend at a local bar we both loved, and I was with Kate, who asked if I wanted more nachos. A big college football game played on the flat screen. The wide receiver lunged for the ball, going horizontal, hitting the ground. The ball hit at the same time, then landed in his arms.
It was ruled a catch.
Ridiculous.
“Are you kidding me?” I’d shouted at the screen, flapping my arms, offended by the wrongness of the ref.
Kate flinched. “I never kid about more nachos.”
I waved my hand at the screen, pointing like a madwoman. “That was not a catch. Not in any way, shape, or form.”
“I’m with you. That was one hundred percent pure the worst call ever,” a voice had chimed in.
I turned in the direction of the smoky, sexy tone. And my skin heated up. The man was gorgeous, and he knew football since the next thing he said was, “That’s almost as bad as the Browns’ not fumble.”
I knew exactly what play he’d meant. I smiled. “Or the Jets’ non-touchdown touchdown,” I’d said, and then we rattled off some of the worst plays in history.
It was a simple conversation, but sometimes that’s how the best talks start. Soon, we were chatting about the nuances of the game, why we loved it, why we hated it. And Kate was saying goodnight, as Finn and I shifted to other topics.
To work and politics. To the state of the country and the state of Vegas.
To hopes and dreams. Beliefs and wishes.
We didn’t stop talking.
We clicked, even when we disagreed about what sport was better—football or baseball.
He chose wrong, picking baseball.
But I found it in me to forgive him.
Especially since he didn’t even try to take me home that night. He simply asked if he could see me again. When I gave him my number, he texted me right then and there, saying, go out with me tomorrow. Dinner at the new restaurant in the Cosmopolitan?
I’d say yes, and that meal was more wonderful than the first night.
We took our time, getting to know each other, opening up, sharing.
We didn’t sleep together until our fifth date.
I’m convinced that made a huge difference. By then, we’d had so many deep conversations, so many meaningful chats about our backgrounds, our losses, our hopes, that we were already in synch before we shed our clothes, and once we did, our bond only strengthened.
We were two peas in a pod.
Now, as I thought about our connection, I took a drink of my latte then set down the mug and looked at Kate. “He’s the first guy who’s actually . . . in touch with his emotions. It comes from having gone through the same thing.” Kate knew the details of how I’d connected with him. Finn had struggled with loss, too, then spiraled into work, more work, and only work after his younger brother took his own life after returning from Afghanistan. Finn was finally able to grieve, accept, and move on, thanks to the help of his best man. Jake had “dragged his ass to group therapy,” as Finn put it that night at the Cosmopolitan when he’d told me the story. Finally talking through the pain and letting go of it had turned Finn into a new man.
The man for me.
The man I was sure was my present and my future. We were each other’s safe landing on the other side of grief, and I didn’t want to risk my forever with him. I didn’t want to take a chance simply because I harbored particular naughty daydreams.
What would be the point?
Better to focus on wedding plans.
Kate squeezed my shoulder. “I know he’s the most important person to you. But he also values openness and honesty because of it. Don’t you think one of the reasons you have such a hot love life is because the two of you are so open and honest? You were up-front from the start about your wounds and your baggage. You talked about them on the second date. My God, you two were birds of a feather from the start, and he shared with you like you did with him. He was the same about his baggage, his pain. That honesty about your emotions had to have carried over to the bedroom.”
I considered her point. She wasn’t wrong. Finn and I had connected deeply on an emotional level, opening up in a real and vulnerable way about our pasts. Our hurts and our hurdles. Our losses and our new chances.
Perhaps one of the benefits of pain was a path to more pleasure?
“You may be right,” I conceded, but even if she was correct on that count, I couldn’t be sure that brutal honesty was necessary when it came to bedroom experiments. “But I don’t know if a full confession of my fantasies is the same.” I adopted a singsong voice. “Oh hey, sweetie, did you know I watch a ton of MFM vids? Yeah, well, I do. I happen to love when two guys service a woman at the same time. Also, could you and another guy maybe both take me at the same time? Yes, at the same time. ’Kay, thanks, love ya, babe. I’m going to go work on our Target registry now. I hope my boss gets us the napkin rings.”
