Advent Calendar - Day 22 KILL YOUR DARLINGS EPILOG-EPILOG

 

So, this is not a Christmas coda, but I did write a bonus chapter for Kill Your Darlings. I'm sharing the first bit of that chapter here. If you're a member of my Patreon, you've already read the bonus chapter ending (although it's been tweaked slightly since I first posted it).  

I do hope to have a Christmas coda for Keiran and Finn, but I'm definitely running out of time. In keeping with the rest of the year. I did manage to finish my holiday shopping at last. I think. Yay me.

 In the meantime...

THERE ARE SPOILERS IN THIS SCENE, SO IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE BOOK YET, STOP HERE.

KILL YOUR DARLINGS BONUS SCENE

 “Well, that was disconcerting,” I said.

It was after nine by the time Finn and I made it back to our suite. It had been a long day—a long weekend—and after several rounds of drinks with the Californians (and, yes, after the second Plot Twist, I’d started to feel like I’d wandered into a Saturday Night Live skit) we were both a little worse for wear.

“Which part?” Finn’s back was to me as he turned the deadbolt. I thought a small sigh of relief followed that decisive final click. Finn had been a rock from the minute the alarm went off that morning, but even rocks wear down given enough time and harsh weather.

“The part where they somehow deduced I’m considering trying for the position at Theodore Mansfield.”

Finn looked at me in astonishment. “Somehow deduced? You threw a couple of pounds of red meat to amateur sleuths, and you’re surprised they bit?”

“You’re mixing your metaphors in ways both new and alarming.”

He snorted. “You basically told them to get their affairs in order.”

In the process of unbuttoning my shirt, I paused. “I— Well, not exactly.”

Finn’s grin was slow and quizzical as reached for me, drawing me close, muscular arms wrapping around my waist. “No? Your exact words were There’s a possibility that things might change toward the end of the year, so it would be ideal to fulfill any contractual obligations in advance.”

I’d been drinking more than usual, but even so. That was uncharacteristically, worryingly forthcoming. I protested weakly, “But that’s…that could mean a lot of things.”

“Yep. True. But if you think, from the moment Rudolph announced his retirement, every editor at this conference didn’t mentally start updating their resume, you’re kidding yourself.”

“That’s my very point. There will be plenty of equally qualified people trying for Rudolph’s old job. Hell, I’ll probably be competing with Lila.” Not to mention several of my former colleagues at Millbrook.

“Probably. But Rudolph wants you. I’m sure you were in the running before the Backstory interview, and the interview sealed it as far as he was concerned.” Finn kissed the bridge of my nose and let me go. Turning away, he dragged his T-shirt over his head and tossed it to the chair near the window.

He looked golden in the soft light, all smooth supple skin and hard muscle, and my gaze lingered on the breadth of his shoulders, the long clean lines of his back tapering to his narrow waist. Strong. Capable. Beautiful. The stuff that dreams were made of. My dreams anyway.

I said absently, “Rudolph’s won’t be the final decision. I don’t want to take anything for granted. I hope I didn’t send the wrong message.”

“It was the right message as far as that mob’s concerned.” Finn turned back to me, smiling. “It was the right message as far as I’m concerned.” He leaned in for a long, lazy kiss. His mouth was warm and he tasted of truth, justice, and 12-year-old Yamazaki whisky. I closed my eyes, holding onto the moment, realizing for the first time in a very long time that I didn’t have to fear that this might be the last time, the last kiss, the last I love you, spoken or unspoken.

When we reluctantly drew back, Finn slid his hands beneath my open shirt, palms smoothing the planes of my shoulders beneath the soft cotton, thumbs lightly stroking my collar bones. “Were you planning on wearing this to bed?”

“Droll.” I shrugged out of the shirt; let it slide to the floor. Finn kissed my bare shoulder. Kissed the side of my neck. Small, velvety kisses cherishing, promising. I hooked my arm around his neck, pressing my face to his. I whispered, “I don’t think I even thanked you for today, Phineas. For all of it. For everything.”

I had to stop as emotion closed my throat. He made the softest sound, not shh, not it’s okay.

I’m right here.

Finn able to communicate more in a murmur than I could with words.

“I don’t think I could have—if you hadn’t been here—” From very likely saving my life the night before to certainly saving my life—or every aspect of my existence that made life worth living—today.

How did you put that into words?

He said with calm certainty, “You’d have worked it out.”

I laughed, but the sound was rough around the edges. I shook my head, knowing, even if he did not, that was, at the least, highly optimistic.

“You gave me my life back.”

He tipped my chin up, met my eyes. His gaze softened. He said gruffly, “In the end, I didn’t do that much.”

I didn’t bother to argue. However much Milo had let me down, Finn had made up for it tenfold.  And sure, Finn genuinely cared for me, but I knew he’d have offered the same kindness and support even if we were simply friends. Hell, even if we were simply acquaintances. It was about Finn, about the kind of man he was, not our relationship.

He said, “But on the topic of taking things for granted, I know the original plan was that we’d spend a little time sightseeing or whatever after the conference.”

“Mostly on whatever.”

His mouth quirked. “Yeah. And then, of course, things changed—possibly your flight home?”

I shook my head. “I meant to have Cherry rebook, but I never got around to it.” Maybe subconsciously I’d hoped there was still a chance to work things out? More likely, so much had happened so fast, flying home, escaping, had begun to feel like an impossible dream.

Finn hesitated. “I don’t want—you’ve been through a lot over the past few days. If you need a little time on your own to process, I’d understand.”

“I wouldn’t.”

He regarded me seriously. His eventual smile was tentative. “Well, I feel like we’ve covered a lot of ground since that afternoon in your loft. So much so, that the idea of seeing if we’d like to spend more time together feels a little…”

“Superfluous,” I agreed.

“What would you say to driving down to San Clemente? Spending a couple of days at my place on the beach? After the last week, you might prefer someplace quiet and private to sightseeing.  Unless you’ve—”

“I’d like that,” I interrupted. “I can change my flight so that I’m departing from LAX or wherever you think makes sense.”

Finn looked surprised. “Really?”

I laughed. “Did you think I’d say no?”

“The last thing I want to do is pressure you.” He was serious.

So was I. “You’re not. I wanted to spend time with you, and that hasn’t changed. I’d like to see your place. I’d like…” I swallowed the rest of it.

He smiled, said knowingly, “I think you’ll like San Clemente.”