I hung up and I could feel that Mr. Blaine was back at his desk. I picked up the phone and dialed his extension. He looked across the hall at me and picked up the phone.
“Hello, Aurora Clarke’s office. How may I direct your call?”
“Hello, Mr. Blaine, this is Aurora Clarke. I just wanted to inform you that I have spoken with my father about your access issue and he is speaking to someone about it and will get back to me, and that he would also like to see you in his office this afternoon.” I could both see and hear him smiling.
“You know what this reminds me off? Did you ever use two soup cans and a rope and make a telephone? My brothers and I used to do that . . .” he trailed off and it was almost like he’d blurted something out that he really wished he could reel back.
“No, I never did that. But it sounds like fun.” Not that my childhood was un-fun, but that just wasn’t the kind of thing I did.
“It was.” Okay, totally weird moment. We locked eyes as we both held the phones to our ears.
He was the first to recover and clear his throat.
“Well, thank you Miss Clarke for keeping me apprised. I appreciate it very much, and I will be sure to see him later.”
“You’re welcome Mr. Blaine.” There was nothing else to say, but I didn’t seem to be able to hang the phone up.
“You hang up,” Lucas said, and that made me smile.
“No, you hang up.”
“I asked you first.”
“I’m your boss.”
“Fair point.” Click. We both grinned like idiots at each other until someone walked by and broke our eye contact.
Eleven
I was nervous. I was nervous about meeting Fin for coffee. I mean, my palms weren’t sweating, but I was definitely nervous. I’d arrived twenty minutes early and I had already decided to order herbal tea because I was keyed up enough as it was.
I chose a table near the front with a good view of the street so I could see him before he could see me. Between scanning the street for him and checking my phone to make sure he hadn’t texted or called to cancel, I whiled away the time. And then it was five minutes until our meeting and I saw a man with dark wavy hair and a familiar nose stroll up the sidewalk and walk into the café.
Holy. Hell.
The scrawny guy with the greasy hair and the once-crooked teeth had undergone a transformation worthy of that television show that gives ridiculous makeovers. His blue eyes scanned the shop, and I pretended to be engrossed with my phone. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him see me and start to walk over.
“Rory?” I look up and it wasn’t hard to put on a shocked face. He was even more . . . wow, up close.
“Fin? Is that you?” Even back in the day, he’d towered over me. Now he was even more . . . formidable.
“It’s me,” he said, holding his arms out and then wrapping me in a hug. Whoa. I wasn’t much of a hugger when it came to people I didn’t know well, but I was forced to submit to it anyway until he let me go. He must have seen my hug reluctance.
“Oh, sorry. I’m kind of a hugger.”
“It’s fine. No big deal. Do you want to sit?”
“Have you gotten anything yet? What would you like?”
“Um, whatever they have for decaf tea is fine. And maybe a scone or something?” I started to rummage in my purse for some cash.
“It’s on me. Be right back.” He whisked away before I could stop him.
Hey, I tried.
I watched him as he ordered and flirted with the girl who wrote his name on our cups and waited for our orders. He definitely wasn’t clumsy anymore. He’d grown into his body and he clearly knew how to use it.
What had my parents gotten me into?