Page 53 of Born to Make You Smile

I closed my eyes and sighed. “I know.”

“I feel like we’re losing ourselves after what happened over the weekend. And it breaks my heart. You’re so important to me. And I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

“You won’t lose me,” I maintained, pressing my lips together. “It was just a kiss between friends. Friends can share an innocent kiss. Especially when there’s no chemistry or spark.”

“You didn’t feel a spark?” he asked. His expression appeared confused, with a flicker of disappointment.

“No, nothing.” A surge of electricity flowed through me as I lied through my teeth. I shook my head and prayed I was convincing. “I’ve known you almost my whole life. To be honest, it was kind of weird.”

He stared at me blankly, then licked his lips. I wanted those lips on me so badly. I wanted to sayfuck itand jump across the console to devour him. But I suppressed my urges and sat firm.

“Yes. I agree. Very weird.” He tapped the steering wheel with his fingers, then slapped his leg. “Ahh, good. I’m so glad we’re on the same page. Thank God!”

I wondered if he was denying his feelings as well, for the sake of our relationship.

Just as I was about to leave the car, he held out his fist, and I pushed mine against his three times with a steady final grind.

“G?” he said, raising his brows.

I attempted a smile. “Force.”

***

On Friday at eight in the morning, the limo arrived to pick us up for the airport. Gavin greeted me at my door. While we weren’t quite back to normal, things were better than theywere on Monday. We were seemingly able to put the kiss and everything else behind us, assured that it was a mistake and meant nothing. In moments of weakness, I’d think of my mother. The house. The girls. And it usually set my priorities back in line.

We sat in the back seat together, mostly silent, periodically looking over at each other with a smile. He looked polished and handsome. Slightly different. I tried to figure out what it was, then it hit me.

“I like your haircut,” I said with a nod, staring at him. His hair looked good, cut a little shorter and neater but still full of volume.

“Thank you, love.” He raked his hand through the styled strands with a proud grin.

I bit my lip. A vision of my own hands in his hair swept over me, imagining if it would feel as soft and silky as it looked. I diverted my focus to the window, studying the passing trees on Yonge Street like I’d have to describe them in perfect detail from memory afterward.

As soon as I set foot on the plane, the walls of the confined space felt like they were closing in on me. Gavin and I sat beside each other in business class. I began to fidget and rub my hands together, shifting in my seat, undoing the clip holding my hair. Putting it up again, then repeating the motion over and over.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I wasn’t a great flier. While I’d been on many flights before, all of them were with my mother. She’d hold my hand at takeoff and landing and during those really turbulent moments that made my stomach do somersaults. But now, without her, I wasn’t sure how to cope. I’d have to try my best to be brave and show Gavin I wasn’t some sort of helpless child.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

I managed to stay calm until the plane started to move. Taking deep breaths, I held my fists together, rocking my body and wishing the flight was over.

“Here,” he said, handing me one of his earbuds. “This might help. I’m not great with takeoffs or landings either.”

The sound of The Weather Girls' “It's Raining Men” blasted into my left ear.

I shook my head with a chuckle and closed my eyes. “Thanks.”

He gripped my hand tightly as the plane began to take off. A rush of warm flutters moved through my body at our contact, taking my mind off the jarring motions of the plane.

Gavin always made me feel protected and safe—like nothing in the world could harm me.

We landed in Ottawa and checked into the hotel. Our suites were just down the hall from each other. My elegant room was modern, with a king-sized bed, a small kitchenette, a desk, a loveseat, and a huge TV. While I was grateful for the experience, deep down, I felt spoiled, as if I didn’t deserve to be in a room so extravagant. It was a room I would have booked for Gavin but never for myself.

Our plan was to spend a few hours at the convention, find a digital radiography system, and peruse the grounds. We’d go back to our rooms to freshen up, then grab dinner. Gavin told me he’d made reservations at a French restaurant nearby. It occurred to me I had never really been out to dinner with Gavin. Just him. Especially not at a fancy restaurant. I worried it would feel romantic.

It is not a date.I had to remind myself over and over again. It was a professional business dinner between a boss and his assistant.

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