Page 70 of He Falls First

“Elizabeth.” She waits until I meet her gaze. “Mom and Dad were a mess. Remember the Christmas Eve dinner fiasco? Or the silent treatment marathons?”

“God, yes,” I murmur, memories flooding back. “But—”

“No buts,” she says. “Their divorce wasn’t your fault. This was never your burden to bear.”

“Then why does it feel so heavy?” I whisper, feeling a tear trail down my cheek.

“Because you’ve been carrying it for years without questioning it,” she says softly, handing me a tissue. “It’s time to put it down, Lizzy.”

“I’m always looking for Mom and Dad’s approval,” I confess. “But I never quite feel like I have it.”

“There are better ways to measure your value than trying to get two messed up people to approve of you. Our parents are just as flawed as anyone else. What matters is how you feel about your choices.”

I blow my nose. The honking sound is embarrassingly loud in the quiet room, especially when Purrlock Holmes shoots me a feline glare. Reality starts seeping in, like rainwater through a leaky roof. I can’t patch it up anymore—I have to let it wash over me. So I exhale, letting out a long, shaky breath that feels like I’m expelling years of self-imposed guilt.

“Thanks, Marianne,” I say, wiping away my tears. “That actually helps a lot.”

“Good,” she says, squeezing my hand. “As for Hendrix? Don’t let Dad decide what’s right for you. Maybe the guy’s a sleazeball, but you can figure that out for yourself, right?”

I shrug. “Probably not a sleazeball, but I’m pretty sure Hendrix doesn’t have real feelings for me. So that’s a dead end if I ever saw one.”

“His loss,” Marianne says with a firm nod. “Besides, you’ve got more important things to focus on. Like being the badass executive assistant who’s going to help revolutionize access to tech.”

“True.” I smile, despite the heaviness in my heart. Because apparently, Marianne’s actually been listening when I tell her about work. And she believes me when I tell her I’m working on important things.

“Whatever happens with Hendrix,” she says, “just remember you deserve to be with someone who really cares about you.”

True. That much I know. Purrlock Holmes jumps onto my lap, apparently deciding I’m worthy of his attention. I stroke his fur, feeling the purrs vibrating against my thighs. It’s a good sound—comforting, promising. And I’ll take all the good I can get.

Chapter 30

Elizabeth

The ballroom at the Grandiose Hotel is buzzing like Silicon Valley on steroids. It’s like every tech guru and their prototype decided to show up. Seriously, if I hadn’t played a part in planning this shindig, I’d half expect to bump into a robot serving cocktails.

Hendrix and I should be buzzing with excitement. I know the man doesn’t do public displays of buzz, but he could at least muster up his version. Like a dour half-smirk that passes for a smile if you squint really, really hard. I’ve seen him work a crowd before and I know he can do it.

And we’re here to celebrate the official launch of LocalLink, after all. The two of us have been working our butts off, and not only has our hard work paid off, but it’s a project we really believe in.

But I think I know why he’s not smiling. Neither of us are much in the mood for partying as we stand side by side, our hands barely touching. We haven’t spoken much since our fight last week. And our time together is nearly over, anyway. This event is our last big public event together as a fake couple. I wish we could just enjoy our last week together instead of wrestling with all this tension.

He cuts an imposing figure in his charcoal gray suit, but there’s tension in the set of his jaw. His grip on my arm is too firm. I try to catch his eye and give an encouraging smile, but he’s scanning the room, not looking at me.

“Smile, Elizabeth,” he mutters under his breath. “We’re on display.”

“Did you forget to take your own advice?” I say through a grin wide enough to showcase every last one of my molars.

He looks like a bull as he pushes air out of his nostrils, then flashes his pearly whites.

“Nothing says ‘genuine couple’ like two forced grins!” I say. “Don’t worry. I’m having a hard time faking it, too.”

He looks at me with a question on his face, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he gets us moving through the room with mechanical precision, schmoozing investors.

“Elizabeth, darling, how do you enjoy working with this genius?” Mrs. Finklestein—some higher-up’s wife—asks, gesturing toward Hendrix.

“Every day is a revelation,” I say, which isn’t entirely a lie. For instance, I’ve recently discovered I’m capable of being wildly attracted to someone who drives me utterly insane.

“Indeed,” Hendrix says. “Elizabeth is an integral part of the team.”

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