"You have to do something!"

I could do without Nyora barrelling in making demands. It's been a long day. Fin skipped work, without even saying anything, and I'm veering between anger and fear.

Did I push him too hard in some way? Is he just suddenly grossed out that he lowered his standards to me?

Yesterday had been so good. We'd had breakfast together and Fin had offered to come in with me, even though he didn't need to. I'd accepted because I wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. I was getting more comfortable with him, and I think he was with me, too, until later in the afternoon, when Nielsen turned up again.

He'd had no purpose, seemingly. Just wanting to rile us up, demanding entrance again and being sent on his way, like before. Eyeing Fin up again, making sleazy comments. That had taken some of the shine off Fin, but it wasn't until he'd received a phone call that he'd been thrown off fully.

He just dropped, so I suggested he leave early, but then, today, he didn't come in, and I've heard nothing. It hurts more than I thought it would even if I knew there'd be an end date on us fooling around. I wasn't expecting it so soon. So, Nyora's sudden demands aren't helping.

"Where's Fin?" she asks, looking around.

"He didn't come in," I grunt, making what I hope will be the day's last cappuccino, passing it to the girl waiting, who smiles in a coy way that turns my stomach slightly. I feel bad when she walks away though.

"Oh god, I hope he's okay."

"Why wouldn't he be?"

She looks at me searchingly, which just serves to make me feel even sicker. "It's not my place to say," she says finally, pulling her phone out to send a message.

"He talks to you a lot though?"

"Yeah, he needed a friend. He doesn't know anyone here."

"So, he's told you stuff about his ex?"

"Oh, so he did tell you? I told him to - told him he could trust you. He was wary though - of everyone, not just you - so I wasn't sure if he would."

"Anyway," she says, slipping her phone back in her bag and coming behind the counter to make herself a drink, "you have to do something."

Now I'm confused. "About what?"

"About this place. Buy the building."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It is easy if you let it be. Your house as deposit. Awesome ideas to develop the business. You know there are three more floors up there?"

I do. It's nothing but empty boxes and spider webs right now.

"I spoke to my dad and he's looking to invest."

"Whoa! I'm not taking your dad's money. I wouldn't be able to look at him if it went wrong."

"My dad believes in you. Lots of people do. Stop acting like everyone's Lauren."

I wince. She's a sharpshooter and I have a target on my forehead.

"I mean, I know you aren't hung up on her, so, if I'm honest, I don't get why you still let her make you feel like shit. I watched her do it your whole relationship. God knows where you'd be without me to push how awesome you are. Fin told me she's still at it too, making comments about you being bi."

Ever since Lauren skipped out on our wedding day, I've been certain there was something wrong with me. That I bored her and that's why she turned to Gary. That I was crappy and unambitious like she'd always said, so I made a terrible partner for someone as dynamic as her. But her disgust with my sexuality - that's on her. And if she's so wrong about that, maybe she's wrong about some of the other stuff too.

"I think I'm getting through to him," Nyora announces to an invisible audience. She puts her hands together in a plea. "Can we plan? Please?"

"Fine. Only on paper though."

"Sure. For now."

We spend the next hour making notes, ranging from wild ideas about art on the walls and open mic nights, to buying the building next door and expanding even more (it's not for sale). Nyora comes into her own when she's putting numbers together though, and I start to maybe, just a little, believe this is something that could happen.

She's making a list of things that need further research, and it's disconcertingly long, when there's a hard rap at the locked door. She jumps up to get it before I can react to the sight of Fin through the glass.

"I think I've convinced him!" she crows, and Fin grins.

"To buy this place?"

"Yup. You will stay, won't you? He's going to need more staff."

She's getting a long way ahead of herself, though I still wait for Fin's answer with bated breath.

He doesn't respond for a long moment, and I can feel the thump of my heart.

"If he'll have me."

It's almost whispered, said tenderly. Nyora leans back in her chair with a soft smile and an arched brow.

She stands then, announcing her intention to make fresh drinks but I barely listen, watching Fin for the hope he'll say more.

He does, eventually, when the sound of the milk steamer keeps it hidden. "I'm sorry I didn't come in."

"Why didn't you? I was worried when I didn't even get a message."

He sucks in air, and I expect him to deflect, but he looks at me as he leans on his elbows, palm cradling his chin. "My ex phoned. I mean, good news is I'm extra sure I made the right decision to leave. But he still knows all the buttons to push. And he threatened to sue me. It left me in a bad place."

"Until Nyora messaged?" I guess.

"I was into guilt-mode by then. For letting you down. He can go fuck himself, seriously. But she let me know you wouldn't blame me for letting it get to me."

"Yeah, you met Lauren, right?"

And I can't believe it, but the thought just makes me laugh now.

"I'm sorry though. I shouldn't be not coming to work just because-,"

"I don't want you to think you have to force yourself, Fin. Your mental health is more important - if you needed the time, then you needed it. Just...can you promise you'll message me if it happens again? So I don't worry."

He stares at me, looking confused, and it almost angers me that he's so unused to basic decency that he's mistrustful of it.

The three of us head back to my place and stay up too late making business plans.

* * * *

The bank's in a hideous concrete building, but the inside is smooth and modern - designed to impress and intimidate. It's working on me, anyway, as I sit on the hard couch in the waiting area.

"Mr Brewster?" The woman who approaches me looks like she could kill me with a well-placed kick in her towering stilettos, and her face kind of suggests she'd like to. She's so perfectly groomed she looks like a sentient mannequin.

In her office, I hand over the business plan we came up with, and she reads through it, the harsh lines of her mouth not letting up one iota.

She finishes reading, folding it back up, and leans forward in her seat, no change in her face at all as she clicks away at her computer for several minutes without a word.

She finally turns to me. "It's good."

"I'm so- what? You like it?"

"Yes. It's innovative. I particularly like the fund requirements for a coffee cart for the beach. We can organise someone to help you with the permits for that, and for the extended opening hours on weekends for art shows and music."

"So, is that...?"

"A yes? Provisionally." She smiles then and it's a little shark-like, but genuine, nonetheless. "Though it's a business loan, because it's based on the mortgage for the property, and your personal property, so will be dependent on the necessary surveys, of course."

"Of course," I agree weakly.

* * * *

"You look happy," Fin says when I get back to the cafe, clutching the provisional approval and a pile of forms about grants.

"I am. I think this might actually happen, though I have a lot of forms to fill in."

"Maybe I can help you? Tonight?"

"Yeah." I bite my lip. "I'd like that."