Page 130 of The Time It Takes
“How have you been, man?” Taylor asks.
I leave them to talk as I make my way toward Phoebe and Dean, who stand just outside the theater doors. Phoebe pretends to pick at the invisible lint on Dean’s shoulder.
“Willow tree!” Finn yells, causing heads to turn in our direction.
“Dirk!” I yell back just as obnoxiously.
Dean laughs. “Dirk?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.
“Willow tree?” Phoebe asks, looking down at her son in confusion.
Finnick only shrugs as if it’s an inside joke and it makes me smile. I sit on my knees—not caring that I look ridiculous. I want to be at eye level with him. I make sure to drape my dress over me so that it doesn’t fall to the side.
“Well, don’t you look dashing,” I comment.
He gives me a shy smile and Dean pokes him with his foot. “When a lady says you look nice, you’re supposed to compliment them back.”
“You look…pretty,” he mumbles.
I poke his nose. “Why, thank you. I believe you’ve just made my entire evening.”
He giggles and I smile, looking around the room. My eyes fall on something that makes my breath catch. There’s a framed photo of Ben and next to it, a photo of my father and Beau. It’s a charity event to honor them. Cancer, Mental disorders, and drug addiction.
My eyes flutter closed, and a tear slips through. I feel tiny arms wrap around me and I jump some.
Finnick ishuggingme. It’s a welcomed surprise that only makes me cry more.
“Has no one ever complinted you before?” he asks. It’s too innocent for me to tell him that’s not how you say it. A weak laugh escapes me, and I rest my cheek on top of his head. I look over at Dean and Phoebe who watch us with tender emotion in their eyes.
Someone steps into my vision as I’m pulling myself together. Concern covers Oliver’s face as he walks toward me. I move my eyes from him to the photos behind him. He catches the movement and follows my gaze, dipping his chin in understanding.
Finnick pulls away and I look back at him. “Did I make you sad?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, I'm not sad," I say hoarsely. Oliver now stands over me, his hand going to the back of my head in a soft caress. “I’m happy—I’m really, really happy.”
“Then why are you crying?” he asks, his eyebrows pinched.
I look around at my friends, finding Julian and Taylor walking over to join us. After I look at them all individually, I focus on Oliver. “Because I’m home.”
I watch him exhale a long breath of air before reaching out to help me up. I take his hand and I don’t let go of it once I’m standing. Instead of wiping away my tears, he leans over and kisses them as they fall down my cheeks.
I open my mouth to say something but close it when nothing comes out. A dimple appears on his cheek as the corner of his mouth lifts. “I host it every year to remember. To remember and never forget how short life can be.”
“I love you,” I breathe. I feel like I can never say it enough. I have so much time to make up for.
“I love you,” he says back. He brings his lips to my ear and whispers, “And I plan on showing you just how much by tearing this dress off of you later.”
I laugh and something in my chest eases. Everything becomes lighter. A tray of champagne carried by a waiter is brought over to us. We each take one—except for Finnick, of course. Dean picks him up so that he sits on his shoulders. We raise the glasses into the air and shift our attention to Julian.
“Tonight, we celebrate life and art and all things that set our souls on fire. Here’s to never stop doing what we love…and who,” Julian says, and we all laugh. His eyes focus on me. “Here’s to losing my partner in crime and her quitting her job to do something she’s always wanted to do. Open her own studio, right here in Jacksonville. You’ll be missed in New York.” His eyes study my friends. “But this is where you belong—with your family.” I can feel Oliver’s eyes on me, and I turn to look at him, smiling ear to ear.
“Cheers,” I chime before clinking my glass with his.
My friends hoot and holler their excitement. Oliver’s arm finds my waist and rests there as if we’ve done this every day for our whole lives. He kisses my temple, but doesn’t move his mouth away as he asks, “Were you planning on sharing that little detail with me?”
I hold the glass to my lips. “I was, but then you fucked me into oblivion. I could barely remember my name.” When the words finish rolling off my tongue, I look up at him. His eyes glimmer in playful approval.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me. How do you feel about that?”
