Chapter 17

These schemes spark joy. Get it? Spark?

– Marcella

“You’re an awful boyfriend,” I say, riding home with Finn from a dinner meeting. I’m in my assistant garb, despite his threat that I’d be attending these boring things as his date at some point in the future. My relief knows no bounds as I have zero interest in being someone his boring partners and business bros feel obligated to talk to.

Finn’s brows rise. “I am?”

“Yes.” No. He’s the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. Although, to be fair, every other guy I’ve ever gone out with was more a single date sort of thing, less an official boyfriend one, which would make him the only boyfriend I’ve ever had. Therefore, he is simultaneously the best, and the worst.

Relaxing with his arm propped on the car door, he plants his chin in his hand and does that thing where he loosens his tie and pops the first button of his dress shirt. “Does this have anything to do with my insistence that bullying you seems unethical?”

“No, but now it does. Keep adding crimes, and I’ll have to take a vacation to my island.”

“Would you like to honeymoon there?”

My back straightens, and I look up off my tablet. I was organizing notes from the business dinner. Now, I don’t remember a thing about it. I’m almost positive watching Finn take his food apart didn’t bother me as much as normal—because he ordered an appetizer just for me and I was too busy counting to thirty before taking each piece, so others had time to share with me if they wanted. Even though no one did. Man, I ate that entire thing by myself, didn’t I?

Maybe I should have counted to a minute each time. Or…started counting after I swallowed.

“I can have it refurbished to look like Ginger Island by the end of November,” he murmurs, all… sultry …and loose-tied . “We can spend our time planting crops, fishing, cooking…”

“But can you put in a volcano and fill it with monsters for me to attack?”

His gaze drifts, considering. “I’m not certain I want to give you a sword.”

“Wow. A third thing to add to my awful boyfriend essay.”

“Lovely. A Baconian. I look forward to reading it.”

I set my LeoPad down beside me, lace my fingers together, and lean forward. “Finnegan.”

A touch of heat crosses his cheeks. “Yes, dear?”

“What day is it?”

“I’ll have to check with my assistant. All I know is it’s not the weekend, else I’d be playing Stardew with my darling girlfriend and her friends.”

Head shaking, I fiddle with my pumpkin necklace—a habit I’ve developed since I started wearing it each day. “Your assistant says it is October 7 .”

“Ah, October 7, then. It has been getting cooler. The leaves will change soon. Fall is wholly upon us. Apple picking season. Shall we make plans for more pies soon?”

He seems overly eager. He must’ve really enjoyed making pumpkin pies last month. “You disappoint me.”

“I know. I lie awake at night attempting to locate a cure for that specific and raging condition. Thus far, my efforts are coming up fruitless. My final resort is to take a class on Bullying 101, but the semester has already started, so…” He catches sight of my stern expression, and the humored tilt to his lips settles. “Is this a serious thing?”

“Of course.”

“Truly?”

“Not even a little bit.”

He relaxes. “Please elaborate.”

Sighing dramatically, I lean back, cross my arms, and look out the window. “It’s October 7 . Which means it is not between May and September. Do you know why this is relevant, or do you hate me?”

His mouth opens, and many thoughts flicker through his blue eyes. Finally, he says, “Is there a third option?”

“No.”

He murmurs a swear. “Marcella, you know I’m quite entirely useless without you. Is the information you’re looking for in any of the memos you send me? On my schedule, perhaps? We started dating in late August, so it can’t be a three month anniversary I missed.”

“For the record, you don’t need to celebrate every month-iversary. That is weird. And goes beyond the amount of privilege I am able to tolerate.”

He splays his fingers over his mouth, entirely pensive. “Marcella,” he states, “I must earn my good boyfriend points somehow .”

“An entire eighty dollar Publix cake every month is not the way.”

“You don’t like watching flowers die. And jewelry all the time is too generic. And you weren’t all that fond of my forcing you to buy so many clothes…”

“You can figure it out. No more cakes. No more anything. For a few months. At least. I’m all gifted out, and I have access to all your money now, so if I want something enough, I’ll get it myself.”

His lip juts, and he plants his fist against his cheek. “When are you going to want something, exactly? I’m still waiting on that one.”

“Three nights ago, I bought a pizza with the card connected to your account. I bought two , actually. Plus bread sticks. And a soda. And I had them delivered to the house. So I even paid the delivery fee. Even though I not only had food at home, but I also had a Teresa who would have made me food if I’d asked. Or if I texted you to ask for me. Because I have a mental block where it concerns asking people to do things for me like that, and you, clearly, do not.”

“The sixty-two dollar charge has broken me, I promise you.”

“We are off topic.”

He smiles. It’s blinding, per usual. “May I have a hint as to what the topic is?”

I fill my lungs with so much air in order to release it all in a judgmental sigh. “The weather is cooling. The Summer Burn Ban has lifted.”

“Bonfire,” he says. “You want a bonfire.”

Letting my lips pinch, I stare at him. “I’m actually very offended you caught on so quickly. You were supposed to be clueless until the last second.”

“I’m so sorry, my dear. It has been seven entire days since we could be legally burning things in mass outdoors.” He splays his fingers against his face, grieving. “I have utterly failed you.”

I sniff. “See? Now you’re getting it.”

“Is it a good time to tell you that I’ve been planning a bonfire since you mentioned it, and I already have a list of things we probably need that you can consider or merge with whatever plans you have?”

My haughty act falters. “You…” I press my lips together and scan him from the tips of his pretty hair down his scandalously open shirt. “Are giant pallets on the list? So we can stack them all up? And then set them on fire?”

“I was going to box stack oak logs.”

“That feels more legal than burning pallets. Hence, I’m less of a fan.”

“How big do you want this fire to be?”

“How tall are you?”

“Six-four.”

My brows rise. Okay. Dang. “Yes.”

A tender smile flirts with his lips. “Are you thinking about pushing me into the flames?”

“No, I’m thinking about having a smaller fire so I won’t be scared to get close while roasting marshmallows.” I pick my tablet up again. “Can I access your list from here?”

He unbuckles his seat belt, crosses the cab and slips into the spot beside me before directing me to the correct location on my tablet. He’s thought of everything. Drinks, snacks, seven types of marshmallows. The chocolate fountain is almost as excessive as the presence of fairy lights in the cart, but the picture every item on the list pulls together is perfect.

We can set up between the pool and the butterfly garden. Run extension cords out there. Hook my music up to surround-sound speakers.

It’s much too extravagant for the few guests I was thinking of.

“Finn.”

“Hm?” His murmur hums near my ear, and I realize he’s close. Very close. But he’s not touching me.

And I don’t know if I’ve appreciated anything more.

Looking at him, I say, “Not to be mean, but do you have any actual friends?”

He doesn’t flinch. “No.”

Yikes. Poor boy.

I say, “My guest list is really short. This seems like a lot of effort for less than ten people.”

“I prefer your friends to anyone I could invite.”

“Right…but still.” It’s not a bonfire unless you have at least a couple people you can sacrifice, and I’d be reluctant to lose anyone on my current list.

Finn rests his head back against the seat. “If you’d like, you can open it to friends of friends. Let Penny and Brigid invite some people they know, too. And you grew up here, didn’t you?”

“Yeah?”

“Invite your parents.”

I bristle. “My parents ? I haven’t even told my parents I’ve moved into a mansion. I do not want to put you in the same room with them.”

His gaze cuts to me, amused. “I must put my foot down on the bonfire being outside , pumpkin. No rooms included in the event.”

I scoff. “I meant the same vicinity . And you know it. I was distracted by the stupidity of your idea and resorted to the cliché. What, are you also planning to invite your mom or something?”

His tongue swipes across his bottom lip before he pulls it between his teeth and looks elsewhere. “No. It’s not exactly her thing.”

“So who would my parents talk to?”

“The friends they invite?”

Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that.

It would be an awful lot of explaining to do.

But…I mean…talk about fun .

A whole, real party with all the people I like and all the people they like.

In my backyard.

With fire.

I’ve never much fit in at or enjoyed parties before. The ones I’ve had to accompany Finn to were pretentious and crystalline. The idea of a party that doesn’t make me feel adrift in an endless sea of confusion sounds too good to be true.

This one will happen in my backyard, which I’m very familiar with given how often I’ve sat outside with my butterfly friends since moving. I will get to choose my own music, and change it at will. The guests will include my friends. The refreshments will be solely stuff I like.

It will be beautiful.

With the single recipe for disaster being this man in a space with my mom and dad…

But, all things considered, if by some miracle I go through with the insanity next month , my parents should probably meet…my boyfriend… before seeing him at my wedding .

“Does it sound like a plan?” Finn asks.

Swallowing abject terror, I nod. “Absolutely. I can’t wait to leave a circle of ashes in your pretty lawn…”

“Two,” he says.

I raise a brow at his perfect, calm smile.

He lifts his fingers to count. “One bonfire, one marshmallow fire. Two circles of ashes. Twice the burning enjoyment. Double happy girlfriend.” His smile turns a bit stupid, and a bit dear. “ Best boyfriend ever.”

My eyes roll off him, and I huff, but I can’t stop myself from smiling at my tablet as I scroll through the cart he put together. Just for me.

Ha ha ha. You’re hilarious.

– Finnegan

~~~

Don’t patronize me.

– Marcella