Page 38 of Worth the Fall

I nod, but there’s a tiny flicker of doubt I can’t shake. "I just don’t want to be a rebound," I say quietly. "Or worse, someone he’s using to get over her."

Becca reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. "You’re not. Trust me, Mia. The way he talks about you, the way he looks at you… it’s different."

"Different how?"

Her grin returns, sly and knowing. "Like you’re the only thing in the room worth looking at."

I laugh, but her words hit something deep inside me. I want to believe her—to believe that Miguel feels the same way I do—but a part of me is still holding back, afraid of what it might mean to fall again.

"Enough about me," I say, shaking off the heaviness. "Tell me about this game night you’re planning."

Becca perks up immediately. "Oh, it’s going to be great. We’re thinking board games, maybe some trivia. Miguel will be there, obviously. And Taylor and Austin too."

The mention of Austin brings a mischievous glint to her eye, and I can’t resist poking. "And how’s Taylor? Has Austin made his move yet?"

She groans, rolling her eyes. "Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time. That kiss at the pickleball court? She hasn’t stopped talking about it."

"She’s not the only one," I say, smirking. "Austin looked like he was ready to propose on the spot."

Becca laughs, shaking her head. "I swear, those two are the most oblivious people I’ve ever met. But enough about them. Are you coming to game night?"

"Wouldn’t miss it," I say, smiling.

"Good," she says, standing and gathering her things. "Because I have a feeling it’s going to be a night to remember."

Back at my desk, I replay our conversation in my head, Becca’s words lingering like a soft hum in the background.

He’s ready to move forward.

I want to believe her. I want to believe in this thing with Miguel.

But as I stare at my phone, scrolling through his messages, the tiniest flicker of doubt remains. I tell myself it’s just nerves. After all, falling for someone is always a risk. And this time,I’m not just risking my heart—I’m risking the chance to build something real, something lasting.

CHAPTER 8

Miguel

"Daddy, your face is doing the funny thing again."

I tear my gaze away from my phone—and Mia's latest text about our dinner plans tonight—to find Felicity studying me with that eerily perceptive look that only five-year-olds seem to master.

"What funny thing, princess?"

She scrunches up her face in demonstration. "Like this! All smiley. Like when we watchBeauty and the Beastand Beast looks at Belle in the snow."

I clear my throat, trying to maintain some dignity. "I don't look like Beast."

"You're right." She nods seriously. "You have more glitter."

Can't argue with that logic, especially since I'm still finding sparkles from yesterday's art project in places sparkles definitely shouldn't be. My phone buzzes again, and I catch myself grinning at Mia's message about being early for once, complete with a detailed analysis of traffic patterns that only a lawyer would include in a dinner confirmation.

"See!" Felicity points accusingly. "There's the face!"

"Don't you have some very important coloring to do?" I ask, trying to hide my phone screen where I'm typing back an equally overanalyzed response about optimal arrival times.

"Already did." She holds up her latest masterpiece—what appears to be three figures surrounded by hearts and an impressive amount of glitter. "It's you and me and Miss Mia! I gave her extra sparkles because she makes your face do the thing."

I study the drawing, warmth spreading through my chest at how Felicity has drawn us all holding hands. "It's beautiful, princess. Though, maybe we save the glitter for next time? I'm still finding some from yesterday."

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