Chapter Twenty-Two
The sun hadn’t yet risen when Finn woke up. He knew instantly that he was alone in Emanuela’s bed and missed her warmth already. After an athletic romp against a window in her living room, they spent the better part of the night making love, and sleeping curled into each other in turns.
The room was quiet, and no sound came from the bathroom. Having no interest in being apart from her so soon, he tugged on his boxers, put on his leg, and went to look for her. He didn’t search for long, and what he caught her doing in the living room sent him laughing into the palm of his hand. He startled her, of course, and she yelped, turning from the window to look in his direction.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said, her cheeks turning red.
“You didn’t.” He looked pointedly at the glass cleaner and cloth in her hands. “You’re one of those people.”
She frowned. “Those people?”
He bent to kiss her nose. “If you couldn’t sleep, you could have tapped my shoulder or something. I would’ve found some way to help you out.” He pulled away with a wide, salacious grin.
“That’s precisely why I didn’t wake you.”
“Here, let me.” He took the items from her and moved to finish the job, spritzing the solution over the window where she couldn’t reach and wiping it clean. When he was finished, she put the cleaning supplies away and joined him on the couch. He eyed her svelte form in his wrinkled shirt, pulling her across his lap. “I was gonna ask why you’re up so early, but I guess I don’t need to.”
The living room was immaculate but for the coffee table, which was covered in organized piles of what looked to be important documents. A few highlighters and pens were scattered about, and the coffeemaker whirred quietly from the kitchen.
Emanuela sank into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’ve been working on something really big. It’s taken up most of my free time lately, and I’m worried that it could blow up in my face.”
His brow creased at her tone and her reluctance to look him in the eyes. There was a lack of absolute confidence when she spoke that wasn’t like her at all. She definitely wasn’t talking about Hurst Capital. He lifted her chin with two of his fingers and looked into her eyes. “Emmi?”
She hesitated a moment, then took a deep breath. “Last weekend, I told you I’d done some thinking—a lot of thinking, actually.”
“You did.”
He’d wondered what was on her mind during her drive to her parents’ house, but decided not to push her. She was obviously nervous about whatever it was, so he rubbed her thigh, both soothing and encouraging her to keep talking.
“You’re always telling me that time doesn’t matter for us because it doesn’t change the way we feel—and I believe that. I’ve never felt like this about anyone else,” she said. “As long as you’re alive, I don’t want anyone else.”
“Emmi—”
“I know.” She stopped him with a touch to his lips. “You’re always so generous. You tell me what you’re feeling all the time.”
“You’re right,” he said, kissing her fingers and linking their hands. “No more interruptions.”
“I want everything with you.” She looked into his eyes, bringing their joined hands to her tummy. “Everything. But we’ll never have those things if we keep talking about it without doing anything—if I don’t do anything. I realize now that it should be me.”
“You do?”
She shrugged. “It was always going to be me. I knew that and it scared me. I had a plan when I finished grad school. My job at the firm was never supposed to be permanent, but the money was good and Philip was an amazing teacher. So I thought, ‘Why not stay here until I figure out what I want to do?’ I was starting to feel like my dream wouldn’t happen because I was past thirty and parts of my dream still hadn’t become clear.”
Finn laughed softly at that, and she gave him a playful shove. “Laugh all you want but it’s different for you. You can probably make babies until your teeth fall out.”
“You don’t have to have it all figured out right now, Emmi.” He tucked one of her many errant curls behind her ear. “As much as I want you to have my babies, I won’t pressure you. I can support us until you figure it out. If it comes to it, we can see someone—a fertility doctor or a voodoo priestess or a fairy godmother—”
“It won’t come to that,” she said. She spoke with a self-assuredness he hadn’t heard from her since they sat down. “All this time, I’ve been trying to figure out a way for us to be together without feeling like I’m losing my career.”
He frowned, but Emanuela quickly spoke again. “Say what you will, Finn, but three thousand miles is a hell of a commute. We both know we can’t keep flying back and forth forever. I could ask you to move here but I’ve seen you in your natural habitat—”
She giggled, her back arching at Finn’s retaliatory tickling.
“You’d be a fish out of water,” she said when she could speak again. “Besides, Simon and Jamie are there and I couldn’t ask you to leave your only family.”
“You have family too. You’d be giving up a lot.”
“I would,” she said. “But I’ve come up with something that could make us both happy and give me something fulfilling to do. The hours wouldn’t be as demanding and I could—we could—start a family of our own.”
This all sounded wonderful to Finn, but there was a catch in her voice. “What is it?”
She took a deep breath and slid from his lap. She reached for a stapled document on the coffee table and handed it to him. “I have a proposal for you.”
He lifted a brow at her, accepting the papers with a distinct feeling of déjà vu. His mind took him back to his beachfront deck where he asked her to trust him before she signed a nondisclosure agreement. Several of their conversations over the past few months ran through his mind. And then he knew.
“Emanuela.”
“Hear me out—”
“You wrote a proposal?” He couldn’t believe what he was reading, his eyes skimming the first page.
“I-yes, but this way there’d be no reason to hide it, Finn. I know everything there is to know about running a nonprofit. Think of how many more people you could help with the donations it’d receive?”
“And the ethics concerns?” he said, feeling his jaw tense. “Are those no longer relevant?”
It was the biggest point of contention for him, but she was already picking up a few more documents, riddled with highlighted segments in different colors, and handing them to him.
“Of course they are.” Her voice was gentle, not a hint of her business veneer in her tone. “There are measures we can take to prevent the printed prosthetics from being sold for profit. The first is getting your program copyrighted. That will keep anyone from being able to use the code you wrote to create a similar program and print for-profit products.”
He shook his head and looked up at her. “That only stops someone from using my code in its entirety. What’s to stop someone from taking sections of the code to do the same thing?”
“That’s why we get a patent.”
“You can’t patent a program, Emanuela.”
“But you can patent what it does,” she said. “You can patent the process. We include the program in the background information when we file. That way, the code you’ve written and the function of the program in printing the final products is protected.”
The sun was rising as she stood there, and he thought about what a spectacle they must make—him in his underwear and her naked beneath his rumpled dress shirt, pitching a proposal to him in her living room.
“Say yes, Finn. We could live on the same coast, in the same city. My job would be all the more fulfilling knowing that I’m being entrusted to take on your dream, expand it to reach more people in need.”
It was a long moment before he finished going over the documents. When he did, his voice returned to its rich, honeyed tone. “You’ve really thought this through.”
“I have.”
“You’ve even found donors?” he asked in amazement.
She nodded. “But nothing is final until you say so.”
He couldn’t believe his ears. “How?”
“You’d be surprised how many biotech companies could use tax write-offs,” she said. “It isn’t very sentimental but it’s pretty standard. It’s more than enough to get started, and with proper branding, we’ll have regular donations coming in soon after.”
“I have no idea what that means.” He was starting to feel the time difference.
She took the papers from his lap and set them back on the table. “C’mere.”
Finn allowed her to pull him up and wrap his arms around her waist. She took his face in her hands, and looked at him with every confidence in her eyes. “I know what it means. There are a lot of things you understand that I don’t. There will be things—details—that I am equipped to handle that you aren’t. I just…”
Her hands fell to his upper arms. “I trust you. If being with you means no longer living here, I know that, even if it’s not easy, it’s going to be okay. So by the same token, this is what I’m good at. If you trust me, I can make this work for us, Finn.”
He saw the plea in her eyes, and realization hit him hard. This was everything he’d been waiting for. The sign he asked for—the sign that she was ready to make a real life with him. He knew the effort she put into planning her future with him was far more significant than some grand romantic gesture. She was entrusting him with her life and it meant everything to him. He decided then and there that he’d take care of the grand romantic gestures.
“I trust you, Emmi.”
A clear path was laid before them with those words. It was a moment both exciting and frightening in magnitude, and Finn didn’t have the energy to tackle the new questions shining in Emanuela’s eyes right then.
“Later,” he promised, kissing her nose. “For now, let’s just go back to bed. We don’t need to be anywhere for a while and I’ve got to get a little thief out of my stolen shirt.”
He bent and swept her up in his arms, the coffee forgotten.
****
They dragged themselves out of bed around eleven o’clock and showered together—which proved challenging, and eventful. Finn assured her that he was content doing whatever it was she normally did on a Sunday, so they spent the afternoon in Chelsea, sightseeing and eating their way through the Market. Afterward, they wandered through the art district, stopping by a few galleries along the way before returning to Emanuela’s condo to get ready for an evening with her parents.
“You look handsome.” She waggled her brows, her eyes traveling the length of him with deliberate slowness. He was stylishly casual for an evening out in July. His gray chinos and navy shirt hugged him just enough to hint at the well-toned muscles beneath.
“Thanks, beautiful. You look good enough to eat,” he said, biting the air at her playfully.
She wore a red cotton halter dress that stopped just above her knee and a thin navy belt. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail that flipped over her shoulder as she maneuvered away from Finn.
“I know,” he said, adjusting his tone to mimic her. “Behave.”
“I’m starting to feel an attachment to this jacket,” she said about his sport coat. She slipped her feet into her sandals. “So many good memories.”
His lips parted at the sexy gleam in her eye, but she’d already walked out the door. He cursed under his breath.
“I heard that,” she called from the hallway.
“You behave,” he said.
She locked her door, and they were off.
****
“They’re coming,” Emanuela said.
They waited for her parents outside of Mattie’s Caribbean Café in Harlem. The sidewalk in front of the restaurant was filling with hungry patrons, mostly from Uptown. It was seven o’clock and the place was packed. A steady flow of people picking up their meals, walked in and out of the doors.
“They’re grabbing something to drink across the street,” she said.
Finn looked across the street, then tilted his head at her. “That’s a liquor store.”
She grinned. “Mmhmm.”
A few minutes later, a well-dressed older couple made their way across the street. The man looked to be about mid-fifties, with sepia skin and coarse, close-cropped hair. He carried a conspicuous bag of clinking glass bottles in one hand, and held the woman’s hand with the other. She didn’t look much older than Finn, although that was impossible. She had a mesmerizing walk—a regal posture with a natural sway to her hips that was just a touch above subtle—and she was drop-dead gorgeous. The couple drew closer, and he was stunned at the woman’s resemblance to Emanuela.
Emanuela moved to embrace her parents.
“Sorry we’re late, baby,” Mira said. “Your father got us a spa date at the Mandarin and I didn’t want to leave!”
“Obviously,” Emanuela said with a grin. “I want you to meet Finn. Finn, my dad, Ethan and my mom, Mira.”
“Well now,” Ethan said, shaking Finn’s hand. “So you are a Finn.”
Emanuela exchanged a disbelieving look with her mother, but Finn didn’t mind. He’d heard all about Ethan’s reaction to his uncommon name.
“Short for Finnegan,” he said. “Name’s been in my family for centuries, I’m afraid. An Irish tradition that won’t die.”
“I happen to like it.” Mira stepped forward and hugged him without any hesitation, then pulled back to have a good look at him, still holding his arms. “It has character. A suitable name for such a handsome young man. And brilliant, too, we’re told.” She gave him a beautiful smile before letting go of his arms.
His ears burned in embarrassment. “Thank you. I can see where Emmi’s beauty comes from.”
“All right, enough of that,” Ethan said. “Let’s go on inside before this place fills up again.”
Emanuela beamed at him, her smile matching her mother’s, and they followed her parents inside. It took a while to be seated, but they lucked out on a table toward the front near a window. Finn had never been to a place that encouraged patrons to bring their own booze, but he was more than happy to go along with it.
“You okay with soul food, baby?” Mira asked him.
“Might need to go easy on him,” Ethan said. “I’ve seen mighty men fall after a good helping of down home cooking.”
“Dad…” Emanuela groaned. “Can you keep the wisecracks to a minimum?”
“I love soul food,” Finn said. “I’m not that familiar with the Caribbean variety, but I could eat my weight in shrimp and grits.”
Ethan looked surprised and Emanuela grinned. “He’s cultured, okay? Can we order now? I’m starving.”
Ethan ordered for the table, a feast fit for an army, so everyone got to taste a bit of everything. There were Mattie’s famous sides like callaloo, rice and peas, and fried, overripe plantains; West Indian classics like stewed chicken and oxtails; and traditional favorites like candied yams and mac and cheese. Finn spooned a healthy portion of fried okra onto his plate and Emanuela wrinkled her nose.
“Don’t be such a brat,” he said, kissing her nose.
His chair was so close to hers, they nearly shared the same seat. He found every excuse to touch her, brushing her arm while she was speaking, dropping a hand to her knee for a squeeze, or draping an arm behind her chair.
“Where are you from, baby?” Mira asked Finn, and he noticed for the first time that she’d been watching them.
“I was born and raised in California, but I moved to Seattle for college and got hooked on the air up there.”
“Oh, it’s wonderful,” she said. “I haven’t been back in twenty years.”
“That’s about how long I’ve been there. A lot’s changed, but the air’s still great.”
“How old are you, Finn?” Ethan asked.
“Forty-two.”
“Ever been married?”
“Dad…”
“It’s okay,” Finn said, squeezing Emanuela’s knee beneath the table. He had an inkling about where this was going and took a sip of wine to settle his nerves. “No.” He looked directly into Ethan’s eyes. “It’s not because I wasn’t ready to settle down. I think a lot of men get married because of some unwritten rule that it’s just what you do when you turn thirty. In some ways, my impediment helps me, because I tend to find out right from the beginning if a woman is right for me.”
Ethan nodded. “Emanuela told us about your condition.”
“What? That I’m white?”
Mira and Emanuela burst into laughter.
Ethan’s brow lifted.
“I’m sorry,” Finn said when the women could breathe again without crying. “It’s just when people say condition, I picture something dire. Being an amputee can be challenging, even downright painful on occasion, but I consider myself lucky.”
Ethan looked at Finn thoughtfully for a moment, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. “What about your family? Who supported you when your parents passed away?”
Emanuela’s hand slipped into Finn’s. He could handle himself, but he appreciated her silent show of support. “I lived with my grandfather—maternal—until I recovered and finished high school. After that, I went away for college. He died when I was twenty-nine. I have some cousins in the Midwest…” He licked his lips. “I don’t have much in the way of family now, but I was very close to my mother before the accident. She’s who I learned the most from, and Emmi is just as important to me as she was, Mr. Monroe.”
Mira studied him intently again, but he didn’t mind. Emanuela’s parents were looking for assurance that their daughter was cared for. Mira must have been satisfied by his honesty, because she turned her attention to Emanuela.
“Why don’t we go freshen up, baby.” It sounded like a statement, not a question.
Emanuela frowned. “We’re not pack animals, Mom.”
Finn stifled a laugh at Mira’s no-nonsense expression. Emanuela groaned and gave his hand a squeeze, getting up to accompany her mother to the ladies’ room. “Fine, but you two have five minutes,” she said.
Finn couldn’t help his grin. Mother and daughter quirked their flawless brows at them for good measure, and walked toward the back of the restaurant, garnering admiring glances from other patrons on the way.
“You heard her,” Ethan said, relaxing his posture. “Emanuela is a lot like her mother. They value my opinion, but they’ve never waited for my approval before deciding to do anything. So humor me, son. Put my mind at ease.”
Finn could see how much Ethan loved his daughter—his very capable, self-assured and brilliant daughter—and simply needed to know that she would be cared for. He smiled. “I think I can do that.”
****
“What did you say to him?” Emanuela asked Finn.
They followed a few paces behind her parents along the fabled stretch of Fifth Avenue from Rockefeller Center to Central Park. It was almost nine o’clock. The summer sun had finally set, and both couples enjoyed window shopping and people watching, walking off their heavy dinner.
“Why do you sound so surprised?” he asked. “I didn’t think he was so bad. Not at all, actually.”
Ethan and Mira stopped so she could admire a gorgeous diamond collar necklace in one of Saks’ tantalizing window displays. Emanuela took advantage of her parents’ distraction and turned into Finn’s embrace.
“Because I am,” she murmured into his neck. “My father usually has no less than a hundred questions for anyone I introduce. Even if they’re answered to his satisfaction, he still might not like you.”
He pulled her away from him by her waist to look at her. “I don’t know exactly what sold him, Emmi. All I did was speak to him man-to-man. It wasn’t an interrogation. It was a conversation. Maybe you succeeded in scaring the shit out of the others and he could smell their fear,” he said, feigning horror.
She smacked him in the chest. “Fine, don’t tell me.”
He pulled her back to him and brought his face to hers. “I will, when it’s the right time.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” He pressed a lingering kiss to her lips to seal the deal.
A very deliberate throat clearing broke the pair apart, and they looked up to see her parents eyeing them with amused interest from just a few feet away. Emanuela’s cheeks heated at the surreptitious, “Mmhmmm” coming from Mira’s lips, and Finn could only chuckle.
“I think it’s safe to say she’ll no longer be condemning our public displays,” Ethan said.
“Oh my God,” Emanuela groaned. “Come on, let’s keep going.”
“Let’s,” Mira said, taking Finn by his arm. “But I’m stealing your walking partner for a while.”
****
They made their way onto Forty-Seventh Street in the diamond district. Emanuela and Ethan were half a block ahead, and Finn slowed his pace to match Mira’s. They’d been chatting amongst themselves the last twenty minutes.
“I was sorry to hear about your parents,” she said. “Do you think the loss of your mother…forced you to grow up before you were ready?” She looked up ahead at Emanuela. “When I was at my worst, she was just a teenager, so I wonder sometimes if she felt cheated of some of her childhood.”
Finn understood. “It’s one of the things Emmi and I have in common that still amazes me. I’m not sure we grew up faster, but we were certainly less naïve than many of our peers. I think that’s one of my favorite things about her. She has your worldly wisdom.”
Mira smiled. “I think you’ve done a remarkable job becoming the man you are in spite of all the setbacks you’ve had. I can see why my baby loves you.”
They checked to see how far Ethan and Emanuela had gotten when something in a window display caught Finn’s eye.
“That’s lovely,” Mira said.
“I don’t know much about this stuff,” he said. “But this looks like her. Understated and elegant—kind of like you.”
Mira gasped. “Kind of?”
“A lot like you,” he said with a boyish grin.
“Hurry up, you two!” Emanuela’s voice rang out from just down the street. “We want gelato from Dad’s favorite place on Fifth.”
His heart slammed in his chest. “Jesus,” he said, looking at Mira. “Where’d they come from?”
“They always did have the best timing.” She took one last lingering look at the display window before calling out to Ethan. “That place is a hike and my feet are starting to hurt.”
“It’s fine,” Emanuela said, grinning up at Finn. “Just do the thing.”
“Okay.” He walked the short distance to the curb, stepped into the street and held out his hand.
A yellow cab pulled up moments later and Emanuela smirked. “Shall we?”