The Foster Girls #2: Finland

Chapter 16: Finland

From the stories you have all so kindly shared, I know that what happened in the end does not have to cancel out all that came before. Love is incandescent. Love is shattering. But no matter if your story has a happy ending or a sad one, the important thing is that love existed.

And for however long it existed, it transformed you.

Thank you for being a part of my journey.

My name is Finland Warner, and I have been transformed. Peace and love to you all.

It was done. I'd just this minute published my last Losing Love blog post from the tiny French bistro I'd discovered yesterday near my B&B. With a sigh, I pushed back from the table, stuffed my laptop into my bag and headed back to my room. After one hundred posts, I was feeling both elated and out of sorts as I unlocked the door to my room.

 "Hello, Gorgeous."

I screamed. Couldn't help it. Walking into my – I thought – empty room and seeing a man silhouetted against the window had sent terror coursing through me in the few seconds it took me to register that it was Dominic. Dominic.

Slumping against the door in relief that I wasn't about to be killed by a burglar, I eyed him warily, my hand reaching behind me for the doorknob. I might not be able to get away, but I'd give it my best shot. The need to escape was just one of the emotions running through me; inside I was also melting at seeing this man I still loved, this man I hadn't been able to breathe into my soul for the last four months.

"No more running, Finland." His voice was stern, irritated, furious. "We're going to talk."

"Talking is useless," I assured him, my hand grasping the doorknob. "It's not going to change anything."

Before I could twist the doorknob, he was right there in front of me, pulling me away from the door and positioning himself in front of it.

"You think talking is useless because you never actually give someone a fucking chance to say anything. You make up your mind. You tell me how I'm feeling, what I'm feeling, but you don't actually listen to what I say."

"Because you don't actually say anything. And I know what you're going to say anyway."

He leaned down until we were nose to nose. "You have no fucking clue what I'm going to say."

With that, he reached for my hand and started tugging me toward the bed. I resisted, trying to shake my hand free, which just turned him in my direction again, a look of impatience clearly etched on his face.

"Woman, I'm low on sleep. Haven't slept more than three or four hours a night for the past four months. Don't try my patience."

"We broke up, Dom. You don't have any right to do this."

I'd seen him mad before. Fired up. Outraged. But the fury currently on his face made his eyes blaze with fire. "You said we broke up. I never agreed. That means you're still mine, and you're going to shut your fucking mouth and fucking listen to me for once. And it's Dominic."

That launched me right into bitch mode. Dominic wasn't the injured party here.

"To listen to you, you'd actually have to talk to me, Dom. Something you don't do other than to finally tell me about all of the bullshit promises you made to your manipulative wife and that I have no choice but to accept Camille in your life."