When I finally fall asleep, it’s a fitful sleep, full of dark nightmares where I see Finn. He smiles and opens his arms, and as I go to run into them, Janette runs up from behind me, overtakes me, and gets there first. I realize his arms were never open for me in the first place.
The invitation was always for her only.
17
Finn
Dinner with my parents is strange to say the least. My mom was full of talk of the wedding and how the plans are coming along. She gushed about Ashley’s dress, the flowers for the hall and the beautiful grounds where the reception was to be held, as if it were real. She truly sounded like she almost believes this is real. My father stayed quiet about the whole thing, just blending into the background and letting my mom chatter on.
Perhaps the weirdest thing about it all was that throughout the meal, all I could think of was Ashley. At first, I wished she was here with me, a buffer to take some of the attention away from me for a while, but then I remembered her reaction when I invited her to come and have dinner with us, and I realized I wouldn’t wish that on her.
As the night drones on, I start to wish I were back home with her.
The food is delicious, catered by a famous chef that my mom uses, but I would have swapped it for Chinese food from the carton if it meant I get to spend the night with Ashley instead of being here.
I’d gotten home late last night and missed her, and then this morning, she’d already left when I got up. It scared me a little to see I’d missed her that much, and I tried to tell myself it was just because she was the lesser of two evils, her company more appealing than my mom’s wedding talk, but I know it is more than that though.
I am relieved when my father suggests we go and finish our drinks in the living room. It’s my cue to drink up and stand. It felt too rude to excuse myself from the dinner table and rush off. I mean it’s barely nine o’clock. But doing so from the living room is more acceptable.
We move to the living room and sit down.
“How’s work going Finn?” My father asks me.
“Good,” I say, nodding. “It’s crazy busy, but that’s the intention so I’m pleased about it. Even the board has backed off a little bit. I think they’re finally starting to see that maybe I do know what I’m doing after all. It’s been a long hard road to get to this point, but now the systems are all in place and the profit is starting to come in.”
“You’re not going to cancel the wedding, are you?” My mom interrupts before my dad can respond.
“What? No, of course not. Why would I?” I ask.
“Well, aren’t you marrying Ashley so the board can’t overrule you on this? It sounds like maybe they wouldn’t even try to now.” My mom looks like she is about to have a heart attack on the spot at the thought of the shame of a wedding being called off.
My father clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “Despite the fact your mother here thinks she’s planning a royal wedding and that it’s become the single focus of her life, if you want to call it off Finn, don’t feel like you can’t do that.”
“I’m marrying Ashley so I retain control of what I have built. And even if the board comes around to this, there will be more difficult decisions to make down the line, and they’ll continue to oppose anything that doesn’t fit their 1970s way of looking at things so I’m not calling anything off,” I say gently, then quickly move the conversation onto safer ground, “How’s work going for you Dad?”
“Not bad. Actually, I was talking to a man a couple of days ago who I recommended your firm to. His details are in the safe in my office. Would you go and grab the file and we’ll go over it together?”
“Sure,” I say, relieved to be given an excuse to get away from my parents for a moment, now that the inevitable fight about the wedding is already brewing.
My mom has been giving my dad the death stare since he suggested it would be okay to cancel the wedding. I think in my mom’s eyes, the only acceptable way for that to happen would be if either Ashley or I dropped dead. Maybe not even then.
I hurry from the room and go to my dad’s office. I move to the large painting on the wall and take it down, shaking my head at my dad’s clichéd way of hiding his safe. Like this wouldn’t be the first place a thief looked.