Deep Surrendering: Episode Four (3 page)

“She is. She’s one of my best friends.” Speaking of Rory, I hadn’t heard from her in a while. I knew she was having a secret dalliance with her new assistant. She was trying to keep it quiet, but of course Sloane found out and told us, as friends are wont to do.

She also didn’t know what I was doing with Fin. Only Chloe knew about that, and she was keeping it in the vault.

By the time Carl dropped me off, it was already tomorrow, and I was exhausted from the dancing and the drama with Fin. We’d gained so much ground when he opened up to me about his suicide attempts, but now I felt like we’d taken two steps forward and one step back.

Time was dwindling and I didn’t want to spend what we had left at odds with him. There was nothing more I could do tonight, but tomorrow? I was going to fix this.

My alarm interrupted my fitful sleep far too early.

“No,” I said to it, but it didn’t listen, and I had to smash the button on my clock to make the sound go away.

I had classes and a meeting, but I couldn’t muster up the desire to do any of them. All I wanted was to lay in bed, watch TV marathons, and order takeout. Alone. Sometimes you just needed to spend the day by yourself.

I couldn’t, though. I really couldn’t. My classes were too important and if I missed the meeting, I’d end up hating myself. So I pulled myself out of bed and headed for the shower.

When I got out, there was a text from Chloe letting me know that the party was a smashing success and that she’d drop my supplies off later today. That was a bright spot, at least. I messaged her back thanking her profusely for doing that for me and that I’d catch up with her later. I didn’t want to get into the date with Fin and how it had crashed and burned.

Of course she texted right back asking how the date was. I stared at my phone, wondering how little I could get away with saying and satisfy her at the same time.

It was good. Talk later. Late for class
J

Adding a smiley always made a message seem less serious.

I dried my hair and got dressed, then headed to class, stopping off at Starbucks to get my caffeine fix.

For the time being, I shoved aside my issues with Fin and focused on my lectures and planning yet another group project. You’d think in grad school professors would have figured out that group projects never went well. Most of the time, I went ahead and did the entire project, just in case someone else dropped the ball. It had saved my group’s ass more than once. I immediately volunteered to give our presentation, because at least I knew I could nail that. I
owned
at giving presentations.

It was actually nice to get back to something that I was comfortable with. Writing papers, research, making plans and spreadsheets, and sharing what I’d learned was my safe place. It was probably why I’d stayed in school for so long when my cohorts were out in the workforce.

Sometimes I wondered if I was ready to leave the classroom. Here, if I made a mistake, it usually only resulted in a bad grade. If I screwed up in the real world, the consequences could be dire. Especially when it came to a child’s education.

My meeting this time was with one of Boston’s newer literacy programs. In addition to getting book donations, a lot of our time was spent reaching out to potential volunteers to teach classes and raising money for scholarships.

Our group was small, consisting of only seven people, but we’d done a lot so far.

“Okay, so what are we thinking for our big fundraiser?” Josh, the president of the organization asked. “I know we’ve listed some ideas before, but let’s go over them again.” We talked about an online campaign, which I was definitely behind, but I also knew the power of getting a bunch of people with too much money in their wallets drunk at a lavish event. I’d seen it work far too many times on my parents.

“Balls are classic, and I already have a list of contacts that I’ve worked with before. I can look into it if you want,” I said immediately. I’d been there, done that. I did have my parents to begrudgingly thank for that.

“What does everyone think?” Nods of approval went around the room and I started making my list of things I needed to get together.

The meeting ended and I checked the time. I had to get some homework done before I did anything else, so I headed to the library to completely focus for two hours.

My day had been Finless, but I was finally done with everything, so I set my mind to work on mending our relationship. He’d taken me on some lovely dates, and now it was my turn to plan something for him.

Are you at work right now?

I texted him after my meeting. His response was almost immediate. I pictured him hiding his phone under the table during a presentation and texting me secretly.

Yes. How are you?

Good. Then my plan could move forward. I headed back home to drop my school stuff off and change my clothes. What I was about to do scared the crap out of me, but it would definitely get Fin’s attention.

I sent one more text before I headed downstairs.

“Nice to see you again, Miss Marisol.” I’d finally convinced Carl to call me by my first name, but he wouldn’t drop the “Miss.” Ah well, I could deal with that.

“Thanks for doing this for me. I hope I don’t get you into trouble.” He shook his head and opened the door for me.

“Not at all. And may I say that it would be worth it?” I smiled as I got in, feeling my confidence at my plan slowly deflating. I was taking a huge risk here, but risks sometimes had rewards. I hoped this would be one of those times and my plan wouldn’t crash and burn, blow up in my face, and permanently destroy anything I’d had with Fin.

“I’m here to see Mr. Fin Herald,” I said to the snappily dressed woman at the reception desk. She held up her finger as she nodded to someone speaking into the earpiece, her fingers flying over the keys on her computer. Herald PR was doing well, it seemed. That was evident by the posh waiting room, leather couches, clean lines of the desk, and the dark floors.

“Is he expecting you?” she asked, clicking the earpiece to end the call she’d been on but not looking up at me. Um, okay.

“Not exactly, but if you tell him that Miss Everly is here to see him, he’ll know who I am.” Finally, the girl looked up at me. She was all slicked back hair, straight skirt, and polished sophistication. She arched one perfectly-sculpted eyebrow and looked me up and down.

Hey, I was dressed nice. I knew I had a better chance of getting through the door if I looked like someone who would associate with Fin Herald. But with a little bit of sexy.

“Hmm,” she said, skepticism dripping from her voice. Still, she fiddled with her earpiece and then turned away from me to speak to someone. Her carriage changed immediately, and she whipped around to stare at me, her mouth open a tiny bit before she regained her poise.

“He’ll um, be right down. Please take a seat,” she said, gesturing to the leather chairs. “May I get you anything, Miss Everly?” Oh, now that she knew who I was, she was going to be nice to me? That didn’t make me feel very good.

“No, thank you,” I said, my voice cool as I went to take a seat and wait for Fin. I patted myself on the back for deciding that showing up wearing just a trench coat and nothing else was a bad idea. The receptionist would have seen right through that and probably would have thrown me out before I could even ask for Fin.

I heard him coming down the hall before I saw him.

“Marisol? What are you doing here?” He was bewildered and concerned and shocked. I’d kind of hoped for excited.

My eyes flicked to the girl at the desk, who was pretending to be immersed in her work but was clearly eavesdropping.

“I came to see you and ask if you’ll have dinner with me tonight.” There would be more than just dinner, but the rest would be a surprise.

Fin looked over at the receptionist and motioned with his head.

“Come with me.” I couldn’t read anything from his tone, so I just followed in his wake as he led me down a long hallway studded with doors.

We turned a corner and there were even more doors. Fin nodded to another man in a suit who stepped back to let us by. The guy gave me a glance but kept walking.

Near the end of the hallway, Fin opened a door and motioned for me to enter.

His office. I’d imagined it in my head, and the reality almost lived up to what I’d created in my mind.

The focal point, a large circular desk of rich ebony wood, dominated the room, but my eyes were drawn to the views of the city out the tinted windows that formed the back wall of the office. Very few personal items decorated the room. No photographs or knick-knacks. Just one diploma on the wall and a black and white photograph of a beach.

Fin motioned to a little sitting area in the corner of the room with two chairs and a small coffee table between them.

“May I get you anything?” he asked, still standing.

“No, I’m fine. Look, I’m sorry if this is a bad time for me to come.” He shook his head and put up his hand to cut me off.

“No, that’s not it at all. I just … tend to keep my work life and personal life separate to avoid questions.” What kind of questions?