Page 71 of He Falls First

“Teamwork makes the dream work,” I chirp.

As we mingle, Hendrix’s body language speaks louder than his words. He’s stiff, and every now and then, his fingers twitch, betraying his irritation.

“Your fiancé seems… intense,” one woman remarks to me. Hendrix has been saying all the right words about LocalLink, but she’s right—he’s being ferocious about it, like he’s forgotten about the part where this is all supposed to be a good thing.

“Intense is just his cover for ‘passionately awkward,’” I explain, earning a startled laugh from the woman and a sidelong glare from Hendrix. “He’s a teddy bear at heart.”

“Really?” Hendrix leans over to join our conversation.

“Absolutely.” I beam up at him, patting his cheek. “He’s soft and cuddly once you get past the prickles.”

The evening drags on with handshakes and hollow pleasantries. Each time our eyes meet, we look away from each other quickly. But I wonder what I’d find in his gaze if I managed to hold it.

“Enjoying your last week as my arm candy?” I ask, tilting my head.

“Immensely,” he deadpans, and there’s a moment where his eyes soften, just a fraction. “You?”

“You know it,” I say, and for a brief, reckless moment, I consider leaning in closer to him. After all these weeks of pretending, it feels natural to do so. But then reality crashes back in, reminding me of our rapidly approaching expiration date.

“Let’s not hover by the shrimp,” he murmurs, guiding me away from the buffet table with a hand that barely grazes my lower back. His touch is hesitant, like he’s afraid I might shatter or maybe that I’ll cling. I don’t do either.

“Right, because god forbid we look like we enjoy food at a party,” I say.

“Elizabeth, focus.” There’s a steel edge to his voice that I’ve come to know all too well. He’s not in the mood for games today.

I let out a breath and cast my mind back to the other night, when I tried to get him to consider giving a real relationship a shot. I’d left his room after he told me that I should move on after this and date other people, because he won’t count for the “He Falls First” pledge. Meaning, he hasn’t fallen for me. And probably won’t.

When I got back to my room, I stared at my reflection, expecting to see someone broken. But the woman in the mirror didn’t crumble. She was resilient, damn it, even if her heart ached for something unattainable.

It’s like my lessons with Hendrix have helped me see myself more clearly. I don’t need his love to feel good about myself.

But damn, I sure do wish he loved me.

“Good evening, Mr. Cromwell.” Hendrix’s voice brings me back to the party, his arm finding its way around my waist with practiced ease.

Mr. Cromwell’s eyes light up when he sees us approaching. “Hendrix, my boy! And the lovely Elizabeth.” He takes my hand and presses a wet kiss to my knuckles. “You two really do make quite the couple.”

I make sure I smile instead of grimacing, resisting the urge to wipe my hand on my dress. This man is the gatekeeper, still holding the keys to Hendrix’s future with Nexus Tech.

“Thank you,” I say. “We think so, too.” My fingers find Hendrix’s, lacing through them. This interaction is crucial, and if we don’t leave Mr. Cromwell with a good impression, then the last six weeks might as well have been for nothing.

Cromwell’s gaze flicks down to our entwined hands then back up, a satisfied twinkle in his eye. “I’d heard Hendrix here has always been a bit of a lone wolf, but I see he’s finally found his pack. And let’s hope LocalLink lives up to all this hoopla.”

“Absolutely,” I say. “Hendrix has put heart and soul into this project.”

“Indeed,” Hendrix agrees. I feel his fingers twitch in mine.

“I was just telling the shareholders what an asset you are to the company, Hendrix. A real family man.”

Oh, if only you knew, Cromwell. If only you knew.

Hendrix’s fingers dig into my arm. “Yes, well, family is very important to me.”

His smile looks painful. Cromwell has no idea how ironic his words are. Hendrix’s real family—Gabrielle and Harper—aren’t here. They don’t fit this traditional idea of “family” that gets mentioned so much around here.

This is exhausting. I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel trying to muster enthusiasm for the role of agreeable fiancée here. We may not be on the best terms at the moment, but I can’t help but feel for Hendrix. Because Cromwell’s asking about our “future kids,” and somewhere out there, Harper’s probably using crayons that smell like fruit to draw a picture of her beloved uncle. But Hendrix can’t mention her.

“Family values, that’s what’s missing from this industry these days,” Mr. Cromwell muses, swirling his drink. “You two, though, you’re setting an example.”

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