All the Way (Romancing Manhattan 1)

I reach for a box of tissues and wipe my eyes off, then blow my nose as I wait for Sasha to answer.

Do you need me?

So simple. So Sasha.

Maybe tomorrow?

I smile at her response.

Anytime, love.

Chapter Eighteen

~London~

It was a long night. I slept in fits, and when I woke, I would reach for Finn and then remember everything that happened yesterday. There were so many highs and lows yesterday, I’m not convinced that it wasn’t a bad reality TV show.

But it wasn’t. It was my reality. Everything from the elation of being in love with an incredible man and celebrating his birthday, to being frustrated with that same man, and the horrible scene with Kyle.

I’m sitting on Finn’s rooftop, watching the sun come up over the city. I’ve been up here for about an hour, watching the black sky turn to twilight. Enjoying the quiet. Despite being the city that never sleeps, New York does get quiet in the very early morning hours.

“I made you coffee,” Finn murmurs from beside me. I felt him walk up. I glance up at him and see the hesitation in his chocolate eyes as he passes the steaming mug to me and sits next to me on the chaise.

“Thanks,” I whisper, and take a sip, then lean my head back as the caffeine immediately hits my system. It’s delicious.

He must know that I’m not ready to talk because he wraps his arm around my shoulders, and we sit like this for a while, listening to the city come alive around us. Once my mug is empty, I set it aside, and then lean my head on his shoulder, enjoying the way he feels.

I admit, I missed him last night.

And yet, I’m still so damn mad at him I don’t know what to do with myself.

“London,” he says softly, and kisses the top of my head. “I would appreciate it if you’d talk to me, sweetheart.”

Here we go.

I’m not ready for this conversation, but it looks like we’re going to have it whether I want to or not.

I wish he’d just let me go to the hotel last night, just to get a little distance from him to sort everything out.

“London,” he tries again.

“I hear you,” I murmur, my voice scratchy from a night of crying and nightmares.

“Talk to me,” he repeats, and I have to stand and walk to the side of the rooftop, facing away from him as I gather my thoughts. “You know, I can deal with a lot of things, but I absolutely hate the silent treatment.”

I turn now, lift my chin, and look him squarely in the eyes.

“I’m not giving you the silent treatment.”

“Well, you’re not speaking to me, so if that’s not the silent treatment, I don’t know what is.”

I nod and look down at my feet, my arms crossed over my chest, and then back at him.

“Okay, I’m going to be brutally honest. I’m so fucking pissed off.”

He frowns. “At me?”

“Hell yes, at you. At pretty much everybody. I told you last night what I needed. I explained that I love you, but I really needed a night by myself.”

“I didn’t want you to be by yourself,” he replies, and stands, shoving his hands in his jeans.

“And I can appreciate that. Really. But I’m a grown woman, and I needed a night alone so I could process everything that happened yesterday.”

“You had a night alone.”

“In your house.”

“That’s right.” He steps toward me, but I hold my hand up and he stops. If he touches me right now, I’ll walk right into his arms, and I need to get my point across. I need him to hear me. “After what had just happened to you, did you seriously expect me to let you go check into a hotel somewhere by yourself?”

“Well, yes, I did.”

“Well, fuck that, London. I love you. You’re my partner. I’m not going to ever do that.”

“What you’re saying is that you’re never going to listen to my needs and give them to me?”

“I’m so fucking tired of fighting with you,” he says, and pulls his hand down his face.

“I don’t like it either, but you’re not hearing me, Finn.”

“I’m right here, and I’m listening. Tell me.”

I pace away from him in frustration and then turn back to him, willing him to truly hear me this time.

“Most of the decisions in my life haven’t been mine. The way I eat, how much I exercise, where I live, all dictated to me because of my career. Which I love, and I choose, but it doesn’t change that.

“Then we have my brother. Who, by the way, tried to fucking kill me, and I don’t think that really set in until about two hours ago, but I digress. Every destructive thing he did in his life? Not my decision. Drugs, homelessness, anger, meanness. All of his shit was out of my control.