I fidgeted with the water glass, unsure of how to put it into words. Or if I even should.
“Finn?” she prompted.
“It feels like I’m losing my grip,” I said and looked away.
She cocked her head. “On what?”
“Everything.” I rolled my shoulders, attempting to ease some of the tension that had taken up living there. “When my parents died and I was suddenly responsible for Billie and Amelia, I didn’t think I’d be able to cope. It was too much.”
“Any eighteen-year-old would feel the same. And most wouldn’t have coped.”
I shook my head. That was irrelevant. “I didn’t have a choice. I had to cope.”
“Finn,” she said, and waited till I met her gaze before continuing, “you’re doing well, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’ve only been able to make it this far by concentrating on keeping everything stable.” I’d made a point of not changing the status quo any more than necessary. We’d stayed in the same house, I hadn’t changed the furniture, I’d even tried to cook the same meals that Mum had cooked.
“You’re using up most of your mental energy trying to keep all the balls in the air, aren’t you? Billie, Amelia, paying bills, maintaining the house, your job, taking Amelia to dance lessons.”
Even though Scarlett and I had talked before about my parents’ death and having guardianship of my sisters, I’d never admitted this much. Never laid myself quite so bare. “Yes.”
“You’re worried about what will happen if you drop one of those balls,” she said softly.
It was what gave me nightmares. “If I drop one, then the rest will probably follow. And the consequences of that are too awful to contemplate. Billie’s pretty much self-sufficient now, but Amelia is still dependant on me.”
She arched an eyebrow as she regarded me. “I’m one of those balls, aren’t I?”
“I wouldn’t say that—”
“Sometimes you treat me like your friend, an equal, and other times you treat me more like a little sister. It’s because I’m one of those balls you have in the air. You still think you need to protect me, to look after me, don’t you?”
Of course I needed to keep an eye out for her. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t? Not that she’d appreciate me saying that. She’d get indignant about being able to take care of herself. “You’re my friend. My best friend.”
“Exactly,” she said, pointedly. “I’m not one of those juggling balls. In fact, I can help you with them. Take the load a little when you need it.”
“You’re already doing that.” I looked down at my water glass as I spoke. “When we picked Amelia up at school, I was starting to feel out of my depth, then you reached over and put your hand on me and I remembered I wasn’t alone, that you had my back. That’s priceless.”
“I’ll always be here for you, Finn,” she said softly. “For whatever support you need.”
I rubbed a finger across my forehead. There was something else I needed to say—the other reason I’d asked her out to lunch. It had been on my mind a lot, but it was an awkward thing to discuss. Even with Scarlett. Especially with Scarlett.
Bracing myself, I jumped in, boots and all. “You know that conversation we had about why we couldn’t take the kiss any further?”
She shifted in her seat. “Yeah.”
“That’s it. That’s the reason.” I reached out and laid my hand over hers on the table. “If we tried dating and it didn’t work out, we could never go back. And if I lost my number one source of support, I don’t think I could hold it together for everyone else.”
“You need the status quo. For everything to stay the same.”
It didn’t sound great when she said it like that, but that was Scarlett—she called it as she saw it. And she was right.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “At least until Amelia graduates high school and university and becomes responsible for herself.”
She laid her other hand over mine as it covered hers, making a hand-tower, and I ignored the way my heart missed a beat as she did it.
“You’re too important to me to risk as well. Boyfriends come and go, but this friendship is forever.”
Everything inside me settled back into place. I finally smiled. “Until we’re old and gray and have rooms side by side in a nursing home.”
“Deal,” she said as our food arrived.
And, as she dug into her kofta balls, I sent up a silent prayer that it was true—we’d be friends forever.
Scarlett
I let myself in the front door as the cab drove away, hoping Finn was out with Marnie again so I could sneak into my room and pretend tonight had never happened.
Unfortunately, he was on the living room floor, surrounded by books and pieces of reed flutes in various stages of creation. He looked up as I came in. “No date dropping you home and hoping for a nightcap?”
“I caught a cab.” I smiled as brightly as I could manage, and adjusted my shiny new black-rimmed glasses.
“That bad, huh?” he asked, his voice sympathetic.
I flopped down on the floor beside him and laid my head on my outstretched arms. “Amelia asleep?” When he nodded, I sighed. “Actually, Cathy did well in finding this guy. Tom was perfect.”
His eyebrows shot up. “In what way?”
“Every way. He’s an architect, so he has a steady job, but he makes the models of his buildings in clay first, because he’s also a sculptor. He’s artistic and practical, Finn.” I should have been planning my wedding with this guy, not abandoning him at the bar on our first date.
Finn laid his reed flute paraphernalia to the side and focused on me. “Was he wearing a beret? Or sunglasses?”
“Nope. Perfectly dressed.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Too perfectly dressed? Like Man-Tan Man?”
“No, everything was good,” I said, not even able to drum up an enthusiastic tone.
“Then why so glum?”
I grimaced and rolled on my back to look at the ceiling. “The kissing wasn’t as perfect as the rest of him.”
“Bad?”
“No, not bad.” I thought back over the night and tried to pinpoint the problem. “Just boring. Kinda flat.”
I was becoming more and more certain that kissing Finn had spoiled me for other men. Why, oh why, had I ever kissed him?
“Oh, well,” he said far too cheerily. “You gave it a try. Here, hold this reed.” He passed me the reed he’d been working on as he held a diagram next to it, comparing.
“But Tom was perfect for me.” Maybe I could get used to his boring kisses. Surely other things were more important in a relationship.
“Nothing to be done about it,” Finn said without looking up. “The man can’t kiss. End of story.”
I suddenly had a bright and shiny idea. “Hey, Finn.” I drew his name out until he looked up at me warily. “What would you think about having a word with him?”
“You want help getting rid of him? No problem.” He drew cutting guides lightly in pencil on the reed.
“No, kinda the opposite. You know, give him some tips.” This was a most excellent idea, but Finn was frowning as if he hadn’t quite understood. “About kissing,” I added to be sure.
He drew back as if I’d threatened him with a rattlesnake. “Guys don’t do that, Scarlett.”
“You don’t talk about kissing?” I asked, surprised and a little fascinated.
“It’s part of the guy code. We don’t talk about our sex lives, except in general terms. Never specifics. And never give advice unless it’s asked for.” He winced. “Even then, it’s pretty iffy.”
“Hang on, you said you don’t talk about sex with your family, your female friends, and now also not with your male friends. Who, exactly, do you talk about sex with?”
“The girls we’re sleeping with. And then only under duress.” He paused as if thinking about it. “Maybe if she threatened to stop having sex if we didn’t talk about sex.”