How Sweet It Is (25 page)

“You’re pretty good.” He caught her up in a hug.

She closed her eyes, willing him to come back. She got that her mum didn’t want him to return just for the baby, but the baby would need him. He’d make a great dad—Chloe could tell, because she’d seen the opposite.

Finn held her at arm’s length. “Have you eaten?”

“I’m starving,” she admitted, glancing at Hunter who also nodded enthusiastically.

“I know a place you’ll like.” He gestured to the door.

“Finn?” Chloe said.

“Yes?”

“Shouldn’t you put shoes on?”

***

Finn took them to a little place called L’Avant Comptoir, which had hunks of pig sitting at slicers waiting for patrons. The man behind the counter looked surprised that Finn had friends. Finn said something to him in French, and then the man’s eyebrows shot up as he stared at Chloe.

She elbowed Finn. “Did you tell him I’m vegan or something?”

“I told him you’re Viola’s daughter.” Finn smirked. “Now you’re in for it.”

She frowned at him. “What does that mean?”

Finn handed Hunter a basket of bread. “Eat some now, because the Summerhill women tend to eat everything in sight.”

Hunter grinned, even after Chloe pretended to glare at them. Truthfully, she was so happy Finn called her a Summerhill woman that she was willing to forgive him anything.

The man behind the counter brought everything for them. Chloe’s favorite was the duck hot dog. This time, Finn even let them have a glass of wine. “It’s Paris,” was his only explanation. Whatever—she felt grown up.

They walked back to his place, slowly. Finn chatted with Hunter, which was just as well because every step closer, Chloe wondered what the man was going to decide.

It’d be the greatest magic if she could take him back with them and make him suddenly appear in front of her mum. Her stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation, wanting it so badly.

Finn unlocked his building’s door, glancing back at them. “Where are you staying tonight?”

“We’re going back on the train,” Hunter said.

Chloe wanted to add that they weren’t going to the station until Finn promised to visit her mum, but the man stopped abruptly and stared at them. “There’s a
grève
, a train strike. I’m not sure you’ll be able to get out tonight.”

The bottom fell out of her stomach. “We
have to
get back tonight.”

“If we take a really early train in the morning, we should be okay.” Hunter looked to Finn for verification.

“Come upstairs and we’ll see what we can find.” He led them around to a different door and let them in.

Chloe worried the edges of her scarf. She had to take the science test—she’d studied too hard to let it all slip away. But more than that, she’d hate herself forever if she caused Hunter to miss the test. She looked at him, calming down when she saw that he didn’t appear concerned.

“This is awesome,” Hunter said, stepping into Finn’s flat. “Are they your paintings?”

“Yes, except for a couple that are my uncle’s.”

They really were brilliant. Chloe leaned closer to study one. “I don’t understand why you won’t let Mum include you in her show.”

“It’s complicated.”

She shrugged. “All relationships are complicated, right? They’re about compromise and give and take.”

“And not all relationships work out,” Finn said smoothly. He strode toward a side room. “Get comfortable. I’ll get my laptop and be back.”

“Did you look at his paintings?” Hunter said softly, pointing to one on the wall. “I don’t know anything about art, but I think they might be good. No wonder your mom likes his work.”

Chloe went to take a closer look. It was more than good, of course—her mother knew art, and if she wanted Finn’s work, it had to be amazing. The painting was of the Eiffel Tower and should have looked touristy, but instead it looked haunted and mysterious. “It’s like it has a story it doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“All of them look that way.” Hunter pointed to one of a woman with dark, exotic eyes that looked lonely, in the middle of the faceless crowd. “I can’t even draw stick figures.”

“But you’re wicked on the guitar.”

Smiling, he leaned and kissed her really quickly.

Finn came out right then, his brow lifted in question.

Her face felt warm, but she shrugged. “I like him.”

Hunter blushed, too, and Finn just shook his head. Then he set his laptop on the dining room table and pulled up the train schedule. “It looks like service will still be intermittent tomorrow, but there’s a train running at nine.”

She looked at Hunter, the worry returning. “That’s going to be too late.”

“It’s the earliest that’s running.” Finn sat back and studied her. “Where does your mother think you are?”

“Charles’s house.” She crossed her arm. “She won’t call him.”

“Where’s the dog?”

“With my friend Rowdy.”

Finn ran a hand over his head. “Okay, you’re staying here tonight. We’ll buy tickets now, but you’ll go to the train station early tomorrow to make sure you get on board.”

They both nodded. Chloe wanted to point out that it didn’t matter when they left, because if they didn’t make the science test their lives were basically over—at least, hers would be over, because she’d be out of the writing program
and
Hunter would never want to talk to her.

“We appreciate you letting us stay here, sir,” Hunter said very properly.

“Touch her under my roof and I’ll break all your fingers,” Finn replied with a flat look.

Hunter glanced at her, then he faced Finn again. “She would be worth it, but we’re not ready for anything like that, so there’s no problem.”

Finn smiled slowly. “Good answer, kid.”

Chloe had to agree. It was a really good answer. It made her that much more determined to make sure they both passed their science test. After all, the story wasn’t over yet. There was still time to change the next chapter.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chloe woke up on the floor, in a tangle of blankets, with Hunter’s green eyes filling her vision. She smiled, filled with peace.

Only then she remembered that they were going to miss the science test, and the peace faded into a knotted mess of worry.

Hunter reached out from his blankets and ran a finger over her forehead, smoothing out the stress lining it. “It’s going to be fine,” he said softly.

“You know what I’m thinking?” she asked, surprised.

“It’s kind of obvious.” He smiled reassuringly. “I’ll talk to Watley and explain to her that it was my fault—”

“No.” She sat up. “No, it wasn’t your fault. It was mine, and I’ll take the blame for it.”

“Chloe—”

“No.” She shook her head emphatically. “This was my plan. You were supporting me, and it went awry, and I’ll fix it. I won’t let you fail the test. I’m changing this chapter.”

“Arguing with these women is futile,” Finn said, shuffling out of his bedroom in pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt. “You’re better off nodding and letting her think you agree.”

Chloe shrugged at Hunter. “He’s right.”

“You kids ready to get going?” Finn asked. “I thought we could go to Anne-Marie’s café and have something to eat before you leave.”

“Sounds great,” Hunter said, throwing the covers off and hopping up.

Chloe rose more slowly, hearing the underlying meaning to Finn’s offer. But she had to ask. “So you aren’t coming back with us?”

“I can’t.”

Her heart drooped in her chest—she literally felt it sag with disappointment. She thought of her baby brother or sister, and felt tears fill her eyes.

“Don’t cry,” Finn said, recoiling as if she suddenly sprouted horns. “I’m going to make this right. Put your shoes on and come with me.”

She blinked away the tears, put her layers back on, and followed him downstairs to his workshop. She waited hopefully while he let them in.

Inside, there was a large wooden table with tools and a few old pieces of furniture.

“This way,” he said, motioning them to come with him into the back.

In the back there was magic. Canvases everywhere—piled against the wall layers deep. Another wood table sat back there, covered with tubes and paintbrushes and messy palettes. But it was the easel that caught her attention, because on it was a painting of her mother.

She gasped. It was
beautiful
.

Walking up to it like in a trance, she looked at the familiar lines of her mum’s face and at the expression, which was passionate and completely unlike any that she was used to. Her hair was flowing, and her eyes were lit with intelligence and humor. Chloe wanted to touch it, but she knew better.

“You look like her,” Hunter said quietly.

She glanced at him.

Finn nodded. “You do. More than that, you have her best parts. You have her heart. It’s fitting for you to take this to her.”

“What?” Chloe whirled to face him, hands on her hips. “I’m not taking this.”

“Yes, you are.” He took it down from the easel and set it on the table. “I’m going to wrap it up and you’ll deliver it to your mother. It’s only right that she should have it.”

“And then, what?” She glared at him. “You’re going to call it even and forget her?”

“Chloe—”

“I’m really disappointed in you, Phineas,” she said, trying to sound like her aunt Bea. “I’ll take this painting, but if you knew better, you’d come yourself.”

“Maybe I don’t know better,” he retorted with an annoyed look.

She pointed at him. “There’s no maybe about it, because you
liked
being with us, and instead you’re choosing to stay here, like the Hunchback ringing his bell all alone.”

Hunter made a noise.

She shot him a silencing look and then returned her frosty glare to Finn. “Wrap it so we can leave.”

He did. He handed it to her, and when she took it she swore it felt heavy with loss. At least her mother would have the missing piece to her gallery showing.

If only that were enough.

***

By the time they arrived at school, it was after one, despite taking a taxi. She hurried up the walkway with Hunter following her, carrying the painting. She could feel him wanting to try to discuss this with her, to convince her to let him talk to Mrs. Watley, so she walked faster. This was something she needed to take care of, because he’d supported her when she’d needed it.

Unfortunately, it hadn’t been enough.

But that wasn’t his fault. She lifted her chin and marched straight to Mrs. Watley’s room.

There was a class in session, of course, so Chloe knocked lightly before she peeked her head in.

Mrs. Watley blinked in shock. “Chloe. Where have you been?”

“May I speak with you a moment?”

Their science teacher stood without question, stepping just outside the classroom door for privacy.

Before the woman could say anything, Chloe said, “It was my fault that we missed class today.”

Hunter shook his head. “Chloe—”

“No.” She shot him a look before facing their teacher. “I asked Hunter to help me on a personal issue. I had it carefully planned, thinking that for every action there was an equal and opposite reaction. Except the reaction I got wasn’t what I was expecting.” She winced. “You could say my hypothesis was flawed.”

Mrs. Watley bit her lip. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Give Hunter a chance to take the test,” she said, looking her teacher in the eye. “He doesn’t deserve to fail it because of me.”

Their teacher turned to Hunter. “What do you think?”

“I think if I say anything Chloe will strangle me, because she wants to protect me. It’s kind of nice, actually.” He smiled. “But if she did let me speak, I’d have to say Chloe’s studied awfully hard and is so prepared for this test that it’s not funny. It should also be said that the mission she convinced me to go on was for the better good of her family, and completely noble, so if anyone deserved a second chance, it’s her.”

Chloe glared at him. “I told you I was doing this.”

He shrugged. “And I told you we were partners, so get over it.”

Mrs. Watley cleared her throat. “If I may, children.”

They faced her.

“Are you ready to take the test now?”

They both nodded.

“Come inside and take it now.” She walked back into the class.

Chloe gaped at Hunter. “I can’t believe that worked.”

“Of course it worked. Some elements make perfect compounds.” He kissed her quickly and then carried the canvas inside.

She stared after him. Then she walked in, determined to make him proud, although she suspected he already was.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Two days since the kids had left.

Two days since Finn felt like his soul had been completely ripped out of his chest.

He slumped at his worktable, looking at the restoration project he was supposed to start, but his heart wasn’t in it.

His heart was in London.

No, it wasn’t.
He shook his head. His heart was here, in Paris, with his artwork and commissions.

But even as he thought it, a little voice inside called him a liar.

His mobile rang, and he picked it up to look at the screen. Jasmine. For a moment he contemplated not answering it. Except he was a masochist, so he did.

“Do you know what day it is?” his best friend asked without preamble.

“No.”

“It’s Saturday. Viola’s gallery opens tonight.” Jasmine paused. “I’m going to pretend that you knew that, and that you already have a ticket to come to it, because it’s very important to her and, therefore, very important to you.”

“Jasmine, I don’t know that you’re qualified to give me relationship advice.”

The silence from the other end was so chilly that he felt frost on his appendages. For a second he thought she’d simply hang up on him.

But then she said, “Phineas Buchanan, I love you, and because I love you I’m going to tell you that you’re an absolute arse, and that if you can’t see how absolutely perfect Viola is for you, then you deserve to rot in Paris.”

“Jas—”

But she was gone, and there was only dial tone and that sounded just as upset with him as she had.