Page 62 of Strictly Business
“Excuse me?”
“We’ve known for a while, honey,” Mom says. “I think everyone did except the two of you.”
“We did not like each other!”
“Sure, honey.” She pats my hand.
“Nothing ever happened before now. We were not interested in each other. It just…happened. I wasn’t even looking for it. I was sure David and I would fix things, but—”
“Does Josh know?” Dad asks.
“No,” I shake my head. “And please don’t tell him, not about Finn. I want to do it, I want to be the one to tell him. He’s going to have questions, he’s going to be upset… This is not the kind of thing you do over the phone.”
“You shouldn’t hide this any longer, Michaela. That’s not fair to Finn.”
“I know. Finn has been extremely supportive about all of this, but I need to do it the right way. I’ll tell Josh, soon, I promise.”
Chapter Thirty
MICHAELA
COLOR ME SHOCKED WHEN a delivery man showed up at my door with an oversized white box a few moments ago. A black ribbon elegantly tied with a small tag hidden underneath, Finn’s handwriting scrawled across it: I’ll see you @ 8. - F
Untying the ribbon, I dig through the box unsure what awaits me. A warm, gold color stands out against the white tissue paper. The material feels like butter against my fingers as I pull it out of the box — a dress. A fitted champagne-colored dress with a sweetheart neckline. That’s not the only thing — there’s a black YSL clutch and a shoe box labeled Christian Louboutin.
Holy shit.
He sent me an entire outfit? Holding the dress against my body, I look into the floor-length mirror. The tag on the side catches my eye, and I know I shouldn’t, but I look anyway. My eyes bulge not only at the name but the price. Oscar de la Renta. Is he insane? Absolutely not. I will not be wearing this thing. It’s going right back in the box and—
My phone dings. A text from Finn.
What if I get something on it or rip it or… No, I can’t wear it. I don’t wear things like this. I can’t afford them. That’s not true, I could afford them every once in a while, but I’d rather spend money on other things…like food — a girl’s gotta eat.
I didn’t realize dating Finnley Sheffield meant agreeing to let him run the show. Does he forget I just got out of a relationship like that?
No. Stop it, Michaela. Finn is not David. Far from it actually, this is simply a nice gesture on our first date.
First date.
The butterflies suddenly erupt in my stomach at the thought. A smile spreads across the lips of the girl in the reflection — my lips. This is my first date with Finn Sheffield. I never thought I’d say those words, but here we are. My phone dings again and for the first time, I’m nervous to read his reply.
Tony extends his hand towards me when he opens the car door outside of the Met. The granite steps leading up to the museum entrance have never been more intimidating in my life. I’ve spent a lot of time on these steps — eating lunch, reading, sketching designs, and spending time with the girls — but, never have I been this nervous to stand here. There are only sixty steps between me and this new life and I’m scared.
Tony closes the door behind me, and I nearly jump out of my skin. “Better get inside, wouldn’t want to keep him waiting too long,” he says walking around to the driver’s seat. “I’ll be back to get you kids later. Have fun tonight, Miss Michaela.”
One…Two..Three…
I count the steps, trying to keep my cool. My hands would tremble if not for the death grip on the chain of the clutch. Why am I so nervous? I’ve never been this nervous around him. This is no big deal, it’s just Finn. I’ve practically known him my whole life, so why won’t these fucking butterflies just die already?
Seventeen…Eighteen…Nineteen…
Deep breaths, Michaela. This is fine. You’ve had plenty of first dates before, this one should be a piece of cake. But it’s not just any first date, this is a first date with Finn Sheffield. My first date with Finn Sheffield — sworn enemy and one of my brother’s best friends. Once I walk through this door, things are never going to be the same.
Thirty-five…Thirty-six…Thirty-seven…
My fingers grasp the heart charm around my neck tracing the familiar pattern etched into it helps calm my racing heart. Things haven’t been the same for weeks now. This solidifies the fact. But I’ve already seen him naked and survived the morning after. Nothing can be any harder than that, right?
Fifty-seven…Fifty-eight…Fifty-nine…