Slip of the Tongue (28 page)

A woman in running shoes heads toward us, trailed by two young kids. “We’ll be quick,” she calls as she passes us.

“That would be a miracle.” Jill rolls her eyes. “Are you
eating
here? Should we go to the table? Maybe Nate can snap Vic out of his shitty mood. He hates entertaining my sister’s husband.”

It feels like there’s an elephant on my chest. I don’t want to lie to Jill. I can’t tell the truth. “I’m alone,” I say. Apparently, I’m still not much for creative writing. I can’t think of anything to say except, “I also came in to use the bathroom.”

She looks surprised. “What’re you doing in midtown?”

I wipe my brow. “Christmas shopping.” My voice is unnaturally loud, but I can’t seem to control it. “I know it’s early. I hate the December crowds.”

“I’m impressed,” Jill says. “Nobody can deny you’re a real New Yorker, running around Manhattan in November in only a sweater.”

She purses her lips. I think. Is she on to me? Did she see something? I can’t abandon the lie now, or she’ll ask questions. “My coat’s at a table. I-I decided to get a coffee. Need my strength.”

“You’re braver than me, leaving your handbag unattended in this tourist trap.”

Jesus
—is she normally this suspicious? I can’t tell if I’m reading into her tone, her looks. It’s taking all my strength not to glance in the direction of our table. To check if we can even see Finn from here. Jill might recognize my coat. My purse. Has she seen them before? Probably. I can’t remember.

“Let’s do something soon. Maybe over Thanksgiving?”

“Can’t.” My throat is dry as a desert. “Nathan and I are going to the shelter.”

“Oh, boy. How’d that happen? Did you say the wrong name in bed?” She cackles. I laugh, because it’s what I would normally do. “I’m kidding,” she says. “He must be over the moon.”

Victor comes toward us, rolling his neck. “Hey, Sadie.”

“Nathan isn’t here,” Jill says.

He snorts. “Did I ask?”

“No, but I know you’re looking for an excuse to ditch Gary.”

“Not at all. I love Gary.” Victor and I exchange knowing grins. “Where is Mr. Perfect, anyway? Haven’t heard from him in a while.”

“He’s out being charitable.” I rub my hairline. “Actually, if you could not mention running into me—I’m shopping for his Christmas present today.”

“Don’t expect that kind of dedication from me,” Jill declares loudly, competing with the din of the crowd. “Christmas shopping in New York, when the Internet exists? You can send me a link to what you want, Victor. If I approve, maybe it’ll end up under the tree.”

“Of course, dear.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “Have I thanked you lately?”

We laugh. Jill shoves his arm. I introduced Victor and Jill. They’re complete opposites, and Jill is always lamenting how much better my relationship is than hers, but she fits Victor like a lid on a cup. Even though she has a tendency to pop off now and then.

There’s a special bond between the four of us, since it was at Victor and Jill’s engagement weekend in the Hamptons that I met Nathan. Vic and I fancy ourselves matchmakers, even though it annoys Jill and Nathan when we brag about it.

Jill’s sister returns, kids in tow. “All set,” she exclaims. “We should be good until we get back to the hotel. Right, boys?”

Jill gives me a look before air-kissing both my cheeks. “It’s been too long. We have a lot of catching up to do. Talk soon?”

I nod, say goodbye to Victor, and watch them go. Even long after they’re out the door, I stand there. Jill knows me well. She doesn’t judge. But telling her about Finn would mean admitting my problems with Nathan. Even if she is my closest friend, I don’t want her seeing the cracks in my marriage. I’m not ready to give up the best-couple title she uses to introduce us at parties.

I take the long way back to the table. I’m going to be on edge now, knowing they’re in the area.

Finn stands to let me in the booth. “I was beginning to think you took off.”

“Sorry. I ran into some friends.”

“Friends?” He repeats, freezing as his eyes dart around the restaurant. “They’re here?”

“They just left.” I exhale. “But they didn’t see anything.”

“Should we go?” His angular face is tense and lined. I love that he’s concerned for me. I think most men in this situation would say not to worry, they’re gone, drink your hot chocolate, when can we fuck again?

I pull Finn down by his jacket. “Let’s stay. As much as I hate that it has to be this way, I kind of don’t hate it here.”

He settles in next to me and cups my cheek. “You sure you’re all right?”

I nod. I actually am. My heart rate has calmed. Finn’s big body blocks me from view, like we’re in our own little world.

“Tell me about your friends,” he says.

What could be more harmful than what I’ve already divulged to him? I lean into his palm. “Jill and her husband, Victor, who I know from college. We normally get together a couple times a month.”

Finn smiles. “That’s nice.”

I leave out the part about Vic and Jill being the reason Nathan and I met.

“And how do you know Jill?” he asks.

I have to think for a moment. With Victor, the memory is clear, but it’s as if Jill was just kind of there one day. “I’m not sure. We just got to be friends over time since we have similar taste—and distastes. She’s bossier, and I’m more introverted.” She and I bonded over a love of designer clothing, good-looking men, and strong cocktails.

“Oh,” I say, remembering. Of course. We met
because
of fashion. “I met her at the dry cleaners of all places.” I smile. “The one on Twenty-Second you and I went to, actually.”

“No shit?” Finn twirls my hair around his finger. He’s glowing. “Tell me the story.”

“Well, I had this beautiful Burberry coat that I’d spilled coffee all over. Jill was waiting in line behind me when I picked it up. The dry cleaner had mostly gotten it out, but there was still a faint stain. Jill was horrified. Before she and I had even exchanged a word, she was demanding the cleaner try again. She said something like, ‘You’re killing Burberry. What gives you the right to kill a fashion icon?’”

Finn laughs, though I’m not sure he grasps the gravity of such a situation. “Then what?” he asks.

“We got to talking. I liked her. She invited me for coffee if I promised not to spill it on her, and then we exchanged numbers. We’d been friends for a few months when I took her to a dive near campus where we ran into Victor, and they hit it off.”

“I’ll bet they’re pretty thankful you were clumsy with your coffee,” Finn says.

I grin. “They like to pretend I ruined their lives. But they love each other.”

I take a sip of my hot chocolate, which is lukewarm now. Finn thumbs the corner of my mouth. “Whipped cream.”

We sit quietly for a few moments. The stain never completely came out. I donated the coat when Nathan started at the Family-kind Association. It was an expensive cup of coffee. From Quench, of course.

I sit up straighter when the connection between meeting Jill and Quench Coffee occurs to me.

Finn goes rigid next to me. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s weird . . .” I stare straight ahead of us and try to nail down the memory. I wasn’t the one who spilled the coffee.

Finn follows my gaze, trying to figure out what I’m looking at. “Are your friends back?”

“No. It’s about the coat.”

“Oh.” He relaxes a little.

“Remember when you and I met—”

“Of course.”

“I was on my way out, but you asked me to sit down with you. Then we were interrupted by that girl in my class. Becky. She hadn’t finished her half of the presentation we were giving that day.”

“It’s burned in my memory. What grade did you get, anyway?”

“I don’t remember. She and I crossed the street,” I continue, “and as we were passing the dry cleaners, Becky’s heel got stuck in a grate. She grabbed my elbow, and I dumped coffee all over myself.”

“So it was Becky’s fault.” He raises his eyebrows. “Sounds like she owes you a coat.”

“It was my first big purchase as an adult, that coat. I ate noodles for a month to save for it. I was devastated. Since we were by the cleaners, I dropped it off, and we went on to class.”

“You’re adorable when you’re animated,” he says.

I demonstrate by tracing my finger across the table like I’m drawing a treasure map. “Listen. If you hadn’t kept me at Quench, Becky wouldn’t have found me there.”

He laughs with disbelief. “So you’re saying
I
owe you a coat?” He leans in and nuzzles my cheek. “Let’s go right now. I want to get you one.”

“Hang on.” I push him off. He reluctantly lets me. “I’m not done.”

I’m piecing everything together in my mind. Details rush back to me, fitting together like puzzle pieces. “I picked up the coat at the dry cleaners a few days later, and that’s when I met Jill. Follow me?”

He’s watching me closer now, his interest piqued. “I follow.”

“I didn’t mention this earlier, but Jill and Victor hosted their engagement celebration weekend in the Hamptons.”

“They needed a whole weekend for that?” Finn’s wry smile tells me he finds this whole thing cute, but in about two seconds, he won’t. After all, he’s the one who believes in fate.

I search his eyes. “Victor invited some guys from next door for beach football since they were short a few players. Nate was one of them.”

Finn’s smile droops and then vanishes. “What are you saying?” he asks.

I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Nathan and I met because of you.”

TWENTY-FOUR

At first glance, it seems farfetched, but the truth is actually cut and dry—one fateful moment with Finn in a coffee shop years ago led me to Nathan. If Becky hadn’t ruined my coat, I wouldn’t have met Jill at the dry cleaners and introduced her to Victor. But does the story stop there? Was marrying Nathan a stepping-stone on the path back to Finn? If there is such a thing as fate, at what point is it finished?

“I’m the reason you married another man.” Finn isn’t pondering fate the same way I am. He just looks irritated. “
Me
? Is that a joke?”

I shake my head. “You’re the reason.”

He drops the palm of his hand heavily on the table. The chicken tenders jump in their basket. “That’s all sorts of fucked up.”

I can’t read his mood. I know he, like Nathan, wants to believe in things like soul mates and destiny. Where does that leave each one of us, though? It was a silly chain of events to follow, but a pit forms in my stomach. If I’m the master of my own fate, then I’m responsible for the outcome. I got myself here with Finn. I let Nathan slip away.

Finn rubs his forehead as he stares toward the restaurant bar. “You and I—we were supposed to end up together. It got twisted.” He glances back at me. “I let you walk out of that coffee shop and into another man’s arms.”

Finn’s conviction is written plainly on his face. He thinks he’s to blame for this. I want to tell him how ridiculous that is, but he’s taken on a lot today, and I want to comfort him. He’s had reason enough to walk away. It says something that he hasn’t. “Maybe it’s all part of a greater plan, Finn. And if that’s true, no decision is the wrong decision.”

When he nods, some of his golden strands fall into his eyes. He pushes them back. “Maybe. But I hate that it had to happen this way. I wish you hadn’t left in such a hurry that day, and I’d thought fast enough to get your number. Maybe all this could’ve been avoided.”

He’s getting closer to me as we talk. I, on the other hand, wedged myself into the corner at some point.

“You’re skeptical,” he says, reading my expression.

“I love Nathan,” I say. “I don’t wish my marriage away.”

“I know.” He leans in still. “You can love him and understand he might not be right for you.”

“How do you know that, though?”

“I don’t. But if I had your love, I wouldn’t waste it like he does. He’s playing a game with you. He’ll regret pushing you away, though, when he realizes I’m here, waiting to catch you.”

Would Nate really regret it? When will he wake up and see what he’s doing? If he hasn’t yet, he won’t. So why would I keep waiting for him to? If Finn weren’t here, I wouldn’t have a choice. I do, though. At least, I think that’s what Finn is saying. “It sounds like you’ve made up your mind about us,” I say. “Which means you’ve made up your mind about Kendra.”

Without looking away, he laces our fingers together. “I don’t want to scare you off. I feel like I’ve known you all this time, though. Even if it’s in a vague sense. To me, none of this feels accidental or rushed.”

Our hands fit well together. This could be a normal, natural Sunday afternoon for us. “But we barely know each other.” My go-to argument is becoming less solid the more time we spend together. Hours seem to pass slowly with Finn. Time expands between us as we fill it getting to know each other.

“Yeah.” I hear the smile in his voice before I see it. “Still so much to discover.”

It
is
a strange thing to know so little about Finn. I haven’t learned his quirks. I haven’t experienced the evolution of his habits from cute to annoying to missing them when they stop. I don’t know what angers him nor why. Could I take this journey all over again with Finn?

“What’s your favorite color?” I ask.

He smirks. “Why’s that the first question people ask when getting to know someone?”

“Because ‘what’s your credit score’ might put some people off.”

“At least that would tell you something,” he says, chuckling. “What would my favorite color honestly say about me?”

“Well, if I were to go shopping for you, it would help me pick something out.”

“But my favorite color to wear isn’t the same as the color I’d want on my walls. And neither of those colors are what I’d choose for a car.”

I don’t know why I giggle. It’s the same for me. I like to wear black, but that doesn’t mean I want to sleep in a black bedroom. “So, you’re not going to answer on principle?”

“Nope.”

“All right. What book are you reading?”

“
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
.”