CHAPTER 12

MAGGIE

“What do you mean, you can’t go? Are you dying?” I stopped eating my sandwich. Cici and I had lunch at Dean & Deluca’s every Friday since she left the Grantham Agency to start her own firm with her fiancé, Cole. I hated not working with her anymore, but I loved seeing her happy and successful. It helped that we had breakfast together on Monday; drinks on Tuesday; coffee on Wednesday; dinner with her, Cole, and me on Thursday; lunch on Friday; and some fun activity every weekend. Except this weekend.

“Don’t give me those eyes.” She pointed at me with a fork full of salad. “You know I’ve done my time at all your conventions because I love you. I’m skipping this one, though. The Wonder Woman costume is out for repairs. Don’t ask.”

“You know I’m going to ask.” I took another bite of my sandwich. She and Cole were into some kinky stuff. They nearly burned down a building while role-playing. No one was safe while they were in heat.

“Don’t. You know Cole loves that costume. And just when the smoke smell was almost gone, too. We can’t even get our money back on the sex swing because the damages were allegedly outside of normal wear and tear. Cole is livid.”

Cici and Cole could never keep their hands off each other. I wasn’t sure how they ever made it out of bed long enough to make a living. They did a terrible job hiding their relationship when they both worked at Grantham. I was the only fool who didn’t see it. “What’s normal wear and tear for a sex swing?”

She took a sip of her mineral water. “I asked and they said anything that falls between the range of undamaged and looking like it was thrown into a gorilla pit during mating season.”

“That seems like a narrow definition. They’re obviously being unreasonable.”

“I know. I think they should at least pay for my medical bills and the damage to our ceiling. The paramedics were nice, but they said they’re not coming back to our apartment again unless there’s severe loss of blood or an appendage.”

“Harsh.” I made direct eye contact with several people milling about looking for an open seat. Too bad they didn’t have the foresight to have seats permanently reserved like we did. We had a preferred table, and management got tired of us standing over customers and staring at them until they vacated it. It took four months of persistence on our part, but they finally caved and reserved it for us.

“What are your plans for the convention this weekend?” Cici asked.

“Oh, the usual. Funby is debuting a new figure, so I have to get that. I’ve got a dozen panels I want to see, a few locks of hair to get, and I need to find the man of my dreams. Standard stuff.”

“Are you moving on from the truck driver fetish? That’s one I won’t miss.” Her smile tilted up higher on one side than the other. She knew she was being snarky.

“I’m not taking any options off the table. My soul mate could be anywhere. Maybe it’s that guy who sells churros from his cart on 37th and barks like a dog when we walk by.”

Cici shook her head. “You are hopeless, Mags. You look for love in the strangest places.”

Oh she did not.

“Says the woman who found love on an elevator.”

Her mouth twisted into a smile. “Touché.”

“Besides, I don’t have a live-in penis like you do. I have to go out and capture cock like a nineteenth-century fur trapper. Don’t judge my methods.”

“Well, if you’re using bear traps to capture dick, then I think we’ve found the source of your problem.”

“I see the flaw in that metaphor. Either way, I’m a single woman out to snag the perfect man. I don’t ask for a lot.”

“No, you’ve always been a simple girl.” People three states over could pick up on her sarcasm.

I handed Cici a napkin and pointed to where she had some salad dressing on her face. “What’s wrong with knowing what I want and refusing to settle?”

“And what you want is Finn.” She sang his name at the end, which she knew was annoying.

I placed my napkin on the table. “I don’t want to talk about Finn anymore.” My words had some bite to them, but I was tired of obsessing over someone who was not a viable option due to not knowing who in the actual hell he was.

The dreams were pleasant at first. They were more than pleasant, actually. But they had become torturous. I didn’t think of myself as a lonely person, but that’s what I felt when I woke up after one of them. Lonely. Almost worse than the dreams themselves was the fact that he never said anything in them. Finn was silent all of these years. Did I remember how his voice sounded? Was I starting to forget him? A large part of me wished I had never met him. I was at the point where I was tempted to let my mother set me up on a blind date even. Her matchmaking efforts had been nonexistent for the past several years. As much as I despised them before, having her accept my inevitable spinster status was worse.

Standing them up when they tried to set me up with that Oliver guy was their last straw. They gave up on finding me a normal husband. My dad never said much about anything, but I knew he was just as disappointed as my mom. They probably felt like failures as parents. But I was happy with my life for the most part. I still had my amazing apartment. I was wrecking cars at a slower rate. All in all, things were good. Even if I was lonely at times.

Cici snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Hey, where did you go? I asked you to tell me about your costume. You never pass up an opportunity to talk about cosplay.”

I shook my head as if that could remove all the sad thoughts. “Sorry, I guess I have a lot on my mind. I’m going to be a jet.”

“Like a football player? Cole has been trying to teach me about sports, and I think that’s a football team. Or baseball. Is it basketball?”

Cole had so much patience. “No, it’s the jet from the Avengers’ movies. S.H.I.E.L.D. owns it. I had the metal airplane parts attached to a black body suit. It looks pretty cool. I just hope they don’t have metal detectors this year, or I’m screwed.”

Cici placed her napkin on the table, too. “You are going to have so much fun. I didn’t understand any of the first part of that explanation, but you are still going to have a blast. Do you have to go straight back to work, or do you have time to come back to the office with me and say hi to Cole?”

I got up and pushed my chair in. “I should probably get back. I’m leaving early to try on my costume twelve more times before tomorrow.”

She walked toward the door with me. “All right. Have fun. Be safe. Don’t do anything that would make me look at you like this.” She tilted her head and gave me the Cici Carrington Look of Extreme Disapproval.

I laughed. “I can’t make any promises.” I pulled my phone out of my purse. “I need to get my car out of valet.”

She stopped walking. “Maggie, they don’t have valet here.”

I hit send on the text message. “I know. I got tired of hunting for parking all the time, so I paid a valet at the hotel down the street to drop me off and watch my car. He has to come pick me back up now.”

She rolled her eyes. “You live in your own world, don’t you?”

“Yes. What’s wrong with that?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

***

I couldn’t concentrate when I got back to the office. The days leading up to a Con were too exciting to focus on anything else. I was the director of human resources at Grantham Media, but I was certain the department could direct itself for a couple hours. I spent some time online confirming my itinerary and my backup itinerary. I went over my lists of vendors I had to visit, vendors I wanted to visit, and vendors it would be nice to visit.

I decided the rest of this day was a loss when I ignored the fifth phone call in a row, so I texted my work valet to bring my car over. I had a whole network of personal valets all over the city. I couldn’t believe no one had ever thought of bribing valets to leave their posts to shuttle your car around. It was genius, even if it was costing me a small fortune. My accountant called me monthly to tell me to stop the madness, but he never had to walk eight blocks in four-inch heels.

My car was parked out front by the time I walked out the doors. It was the little things.

Walking into my apartment, I dumped my purse near the couch. I went straight to the bedroom and stripped out of my dress to try on the costume I picked up. I put on the bodysuit, checking that all the pieces were still firmly secured. Maneuverability was the most important thing. Things could get pretty physical at the Con, especially when a celebrity showed up. I made sure I could run and jump. I checked the suit for lunging and squatting ability. I didn’t think it would be needed, but I checked plank-ability as well. Everything was perfect.

I had too much energy, and I needed a dreamless sleep. I took off my costume and laid it on the chair in the corner of my bedroom. I put on my workout clothes and headed to the gym. After an hour on the rowing machine, my body screamed for mercy. I hoped it was enough to knock me out cold.

***

Finn was here. I could feel him. I searched the room, but only saw faceless strangers. I pushed past person after person, until a pair of familiar arms wrapped around me from behind. I waited for him to say my name—to say anything at all. Instead, he brushed my hair off my shoulder and ran his fingertips down my neck, over my shoulder, and down my arm. I leaned back and melted into him.

His lips traced the path his fingers just took. He kissed the palm of my hand when he reached it. Using his other hand, he made his fingers dance up my arm, over my shoulder, and across my collarbone. He touched my chin and pulled my head back. His fingers moved up to my lips, tracing the outline of my mouth. My tongue brushed against his finger on the second pass. Closing my eyes when he dipped that finger into my mouth, I moaned and tried to push my body closer to his. His mouth reclaimed my neck.

The crowd disappeared and we were in my room. He laid me on the bed, brushing my hair away from my face. The look in his eyes made me feel worshiped, adored. He ran his fingers down my stomach before they dipped under the hem of my shirt. I couldn’t stop watching him watch me. Finn inched my shirt up as he drew patterns across my body.

“What are you drawing?”

No answer. Never an answer.

He pulled my shirt over my head and went back to his invisible artwork on my body. He covered every exposed area on my arms and torso. Finn unclasped the front of my bra. He pulled the straps down my arms and tossed my bra to the floor. He palmed my breasts. The warmth of his hands made my skin tingle. I writhed beneath him.

I raised my arm to touch his hair, ran my fingers down his face and chest to the bottom of his shirt. I pulled it over his head and added it to the pile on the floor. I massaged his smooth chest, not wanting to leave any inch of him untouched. Sliding my arms around to his back, I pulled him closer to me so I could kiss him again. His lips were so soft, just like I remembered them. Finn sucked my bottom lip into his mouth. I felt his tongue run across it before he released it.

He moved back a step and I instantly missed the weight of his body on mine. He unbuttoned my pants and pulled them down my legs. The clothing heap on the floor gained another member. He went back to the delicate work of drawing, starting at my left ankle. He worked his way all the way up, stopping at the top of my thigh.

He moved to the right ankle and crept upward with his hand. He reached the top of that leg and traced the edge of my panties. His fingers inched across the top of them in the same rhythmic motion.

“What are you drawing, Finn?”

Still no answer.

“Finn, please talk to me.” I was desperate for more of a connection with him.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

One finger finally dipped under the lace, and I gripped the blanket on either side of me. My hands twisted the cloth when a second finger joined the first. He grabbed my right foot and placed it against his shoulder. I was already on the cusp of falling apart, and it only took a few more passes of his fingers.

He moved my leg down to the bed before removing my panties. He stood up, unbuttoned his pants, and discarded those along with his underwear. Crawling back on top of me, he ran his hardness across my slickness. I gripped the sheets again, firmer this time. I could feel the coil in my stomach tightening. Finn brushed his nose down my face and along my neck. It was beautiful torture. I didn’t want this to end. He was always gone too soon. I wanted more.

He slipped inside of me, and I called out his name. I gasped and looked deep into his eyes, trying to burn his gaze into my memory. I let my hands roam down his back to his hips, pulling him deeper into me with each of his thrusts. He angled his hips up just a fraction and placed my right leg against his shoulder again. His perfect rhythm became a little less perfect. My legs started to shake and the coil wound tighter. He reached down to where we were joined and rubbed his thumb against me. He came silently and I came moaning his name.

I awoke covered in sweat with the sheet twisted under me. I panted like I had just left the rowing machine minutes instead of hours ago. This dream thing had long been out of control, but this was the most vivid one yet. I had to stop fixating on a person from my past who was never going to be in my future. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. It was times like this I was glad I lived alone and no one else was here to witness my frequent shame.

I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but I knew I had to do one thing if I was ever going to have any peace: I had to forget Finn ever existed.

Operation Finn Who? started now.