Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Check out the pics. She looks so happy!
#Finlyn
There are no images attached and no mention of this coupling anywhere else on the internet. Not when I google their names together. In fact, the article isn’t listed in past posts from the City Chronicle’s website.
So if it isn’t housed in the archives there, does that mean it was retracted? Did Oliver threaten to sue? Either way, I can’t see it being true, not having witnessed their interactions. As a trio, they seemed far too solid. Evie and Fin’s exchanges seem more like that of siblings. No animosity, but lots of insults.
I flip back to the article with the screenshot and holy moly! How many comments?
251 comments
HideYoKids: She deserves a ride on all that fine after what she’s been thru. Go get you some, gurl!
FloozyLoosie: Oh, Evie. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, luv?
AmaraKarna: That man *is* fire!
EllenDeGenerate: Tru dat. I’d make his thighs my earmuffs.
HollyBloLightly: I’d make my thighs *his* earmuffs.
Aunti_Depressant: Wasn’t he shagging the blonde from Made in Chelsea?
MisAnnThrope: No, it was her from Made in Richmond. The one who looks like her horse.
FloozyLoosie: He’s banging them both. He’s a total man ho.
AmaraKarna: I’d be okay with that. I’d totes be his side ho!
Thots.an.Prayers: I was working a wedding where he shagged a pair of bridesmaids at the back of the marquee.
AmaraKarna: Lucky bridesmaids
Thots.an.Prayers: Another time, it was the mother of the bride.
AmaraKarna: Doesn’t put me off. It just says he takes his craft seriously.
Load more comments . . .
“Fin the playboy” checks out, according to the anonymous horde and not just his friends.
Even more so when I google the TV show mentioned in the comment thread. The woman from Made in Richmond looks nothing like a horse, unless we’re talking thoroughbreds. She does seem a little familiar, but I expect I’ve seen her on TV. Not on that show, though. I’m not a fan of reality TV, but the Made in Richmond cast do seem particularly vacuous.
I change my search terms:
Who is Fin DeWitt dating?
Dozens of A Little Bird Told Us posts pop up. If he was dating this much, he’d never make time for the office, let alone get any sleep. The press seem so invested in him—the posts in various publications going back years! It looks as though he only has to be seen standing next to a woman for it to be rumored they’re together. As for the alleged dalliance with a mother of the bride, I will say the women Fin has been linked with aren’t all dewy-eyed starlets under the age of twenty-five. The man likes a little variety.
He’s so photogenic, though. Dapper in a business suit and hot in a tux. Zaddy energy, Sarai would say. And the women by his side are all drop-dead gorgeous.
I sigh, ignoring the fleeting thought that notes me as the anomaly. I’m not being all boo-hoo about it; rather, I’m a realist. I’m pretty and I’m personable. I’m just not going to be walking any catwalks or winning any beauty pageants.
There is one weird find on my internet search. It’s a link to a social media platform that seems to be the kind of place that took over from old-school chat rooms. Not that there’s anything weird in that. Weird isn’t even in the name of the group, or server, as it’s called—StarsInHerEyes. The weirdness is in the name of a locked thread. FindingPhineasDeWitt.
I can’t dig any further without joining the platform and then applying with the moderators of the server. Which I’m not going to. I don’t need to dig anymore, because I already know getting involved with Fin is a bad idea.
Unless—
I block out not-Ronny’s smutty suggestion and set an alarm on my phone before placing it on the nightstand. I pull the satin-soft sheet up to my neck and snuggle in. Then sit up and turn my alarm off again.
I’m on vacation for five more days. The least I can do is try and enjoy myself.
Chapter 15
Fin
Hey, let’s have a vacation relationship!
I blow out a breath as I stare up at the darkened ceiling and the woven fan as it lazily rotates. She might just have a point—none of that sounded romantic, but that was the point. What I thought she’d prefer. Obviously not, because it made no difference to the outcome.
The thing is, I want more than sex, but I thought that news would frighten her off. I’m not a raving maniac who turns rabid at the first hint of abstinence or blue balls. Despite my friends’ near-constant teasing, I don’t fuck anything with a pulse.
I don’t need to have sex.
I can go without it.
And I have done. Just not often.
But I’ve never tried to convince a woman another man is gay. Threatened by a fucking pastry chef? Whether he’s gay or not is purely academic—she’s a married woman!