Finley Embraces Heart and Home (Love Austen 4)

I hope he understands.

Ethan nods and his dimples pop, if shallowly. “Sure.”

“But now you’re here, Ethan,” she says, grinning. “You can act with me and Finley can direct us.”

No. He’s come to practice with me.

Ethan hesitates, but there’s nothing either of us can say. Of course to her it only makes sense they practice together.

Fuck.

All the giddiness that’s bubbled in me the whole day solidifies and drops to my knees, the soles of my feet. Nausea replaces it.

I screw the papers tight in my hand as Cress positions Ethan and begins again.

She glows as she delivers my lines; she renders them perfectly. Every word falls from her lips like they come from the soul.

Then she reaches the climax. My declaration.

I wish Ethan would break away from looking at her and find me, but he doesn’t. He cradles her in his arms and sweeps the hair off her face.

He’s about to deliver the words I’ve wished from him forever—

I don’t have it in me to sit through it, smiling and nodding. I leave the room.

Maria and Rush have come over to help with the taping of our play and the music, and I busy myself with stage directions so neither Cress nor Ethan have a chance to pull me aside and ask what the hell happened up in my room.

The play is underway, just starting really, when I catch the faint hum of laughter coming from the foyer.

I silently slip out into the hall.

It’s Mum and Tom, dragging in suitcases, looking wrecked from travel, Julia full of energy begging mum for something to eat. She spots me and gleefully runs toward me with arms outstretched, her pigtails bouncing. Her little body wraps around mine and she plants a smacking kiss on my cheek. “I miss you.” She grabs my chin to make sure I’m looking at her. “Did you miss me?”

I laugh and spin her around. “Every day.” God, she’s so adorable. And she’s grown. I’m sure she has. “A¯e ra¯, kua hoki mai koe!” You’re home now.

Mum wraps me in her arms next with a tired sigh against my neck. “Planes and little kids, not a match made in heaven.”

Tom laughs. “God, no.”

I kiss Mum’s cheek, and she takes Julia to the kitchen for some food.

Tom stacks their things to the side of the marble foyer and plants his hands on his hips. He looks broader than I remember; a little older too.

“How was Melbourne?”

“Work was more than I expected, but we made the best of it.” Voices trail from Tom’s study. “What’s going on here?”

My pulse pounds and guilt churns in my stomach. “Oh, um, it’s for my summer course. We’re recording a play.”

“What play?”

“An original.”

“Well, let’s have a look then!” He strides toward the sounds and enters the billiard room. His step stutters when he sees what we’ve done to his study, but I get nothing more than a reprimanding look.

Ethan is on stage; I cringe when I see the princess hat on his head. I know this scene inside out. So, maybe, does Tom.

“Is that it? The End?”

“Not nearly! This princess cares about more than saving only herself. She looks over the prince’s shoulder and notices a poor young woman, stuck in a tree. She’s calling out for someone to come to her.”

“Help!”

“Fall. I shall catch thee.”

His jaw hardens and I wish he’d leave. He’s taken a peek, time to go.

“I think Mum and Julia might want you,” I whisper to him.

He looks at me, gaze like steel, then sits on a stool.

I’m in agony as he watches the entire rest of the play. I’m burning with mortification. Once more, I leave before the end.

I sag against the wall outside and try to absorb all its stillness into the back of my head.

There’s no clapping when it’s done. I hear stools scraping over wood.

Tom comes out of the billiard room first. His gaze snags on me and he halts. His stare says everything, so cold, so hard.

I shake, waiting for words, for something.

He starts walking past me.

“What did you think?” I whisper. I have to know how much he hates me now.

He turns back, meets my eye. “I never want to talk about that play again.”

He walks away and I swivel in the opposite direction. I spot Ethan, at the doorway, in hearing distance. His eyes are shut and his face is pained. It’s what we always suspected, but it’s once more acknowledged. No more fairy-tale endings to fantasise about in our heads.

Ethan looks at me and away again.

The heavens opened for the sunset to-night. When I had thought the day folded and sealed, came a burst of heavenly bright petals.

K. Mansfield, Journal

“. . . it wasn’t something Fin wanted.”

I halt at Ethan’s voice in Tom’s office, clutch my laundry sack against my chest and listen. The last time Ethan confronted Tom like this, he’d stood up for me. The last time, I came away from this door elated. The last time, it’d brought Ethan and me closer together again.