“All musical instruments should have a name,” Lucy said.

“You know,” Finn said, “when I first met you I thought you were very serious, but I know better now. And anyone who calls their violin Guido must have a sense of humor. Is he named for Guy Fawkes, as we seem to be on a Gunpowder Plot theme around here?”

“No,” Lucy said. “I called him after the pizza restaurant around the corner from my flat.”

They looked at each other. Finn, Lucy realized, would not make the first move. She felt her whole body heat up. She was so out of practice at all this.

“About earlier,” she said awkwardly. “I think I was the one taking advantage, not you.” The color stung her face. “I’m sorry.”

“I can reassure you that I don’t feel remotely exploited,” Finn said gravely, but the smile still lurked in his eyes. He put down his coffee mug. “I just wanted to be certain that you knew what you were doing and that you were happy about it.”

Lucy’s throat felt dry. “I did and I was,” she said. “But there’s something I wanted to ask first.”

Finn laughed. “Go ahead. Is it ‘are you in a relationship?’”

“Are you?” Lucy asked.

“No,” Finn said. He sat back. “My last relationship broke up after Charlie died. It wasn’t Kara’s fault—I kind of withdrew into myself and wouldn’t talk to her. Plus we’d not known each other very long. There wasn’t much foundation to see us through.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said. “As if things weren’t difficult enough for you.”

Finn shrugged. “It was a bad time.” The smile lit his eyes again. “Things may be improving now though.” He looked at her. “What about you?”

“Me? Oh...” Lucy shrugged. “I lived with a cellist for a while. We were in different orchestras and never saw each other because our schedules hardly ever matched. He was more of a flatmate than a boyfriend actually and when we realized that... Well, we knew it was time to call it a day.”

The rain was increasing in intensity again, another storm rolling in from the west. “I hope Geoffrey is okay,” Lucy said, as a fork of lightning lit the sky overhead. “Dogs hate thunderstorms, don’t they?”

“He’ll be curled up on Johnny’s bed and blissfully happy,” Finn said.

“Johnny’s not likely to send out a search party for you, is he?” Lucy asked.

“No,” Finn said. He laughed. “He’s a perceptive kid. He knows I’m hooked on you.”

Just like that he’d taken Lucy’s breath away again. “Does he?” she said. She put her mug down, splashing the coffee rather haphazardly onto the table. “I mean, I didn’t really know you were—” She stopped at the look Finn gave her.

“I think you did,” Finn said.

“Maybe,” Lucy admitted. “I mean, I hoped that it was...erm...a mutual thing.”

“Glad to hear it,” Finn said. “So now we’ve sorted that out—” He dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers. “Okay?” he asked.