Page 2 of Falling

“Yes, fine. I’ll pack my glasses so I don’t get a headache.” I’m color blind. It’s never hindered my ability to design buildings or render plans. I just always check with her to make sure my color elevations are correct.

Art galleries, however, are a dizzying riot of chaos to my eyes. I have both color-correcting glasses and sunglasses.

“I guess I should go home and finish packing,” she says with a sigh.

“Would you like dinner first?” Food is most likely the reason she’s in my apartment in the first place. I’ve never seen Geneva so much as boil water. I, however, took all the culinary classes they’d let me take while at college. I like to cook, and I wanted to do it well.

“What are you making?”

“French toast.”

“Your cinnamon swirl french toast?”

“The one and only.”

She closes her eyes on a moan. Damn. I wish I could get her to make that sound by doing something other than talking about food.

“You’re such a tease.” She grins. “Fucking sadistic.”

I laugh and get the only mixing bowl not in a box out of the cabinet. The cinnamon bread I made last night, so I know it’s fresh. My remaining eggs get cracked into the bowl. I add a touch of cinnamon, vanilla, and milk. Geneva moves to the bar to watch me work. This is one of her favorites, which is why I saved the ingredients for tonight.

The move to Austin seems to be harder on Geneva than on Rand or me. She left a job she was confident in, a Jiu-Jitsu instructor she liked, and a modern-designed apartment she adored.

I know she’ll shine at the new company we’re forming. But I wonder if she knows that. Geneva is as tough as they come on the outside. But on the inside, I think there’s more than meets the eye.

“How is it?” I ask, watching her take the first bite of french toast. She closes her eyes and chews for several minutes. Her eyes pop back open, spearing me with that cerulean gaze. It’s something she does all the time; she knocks me on my ass with that look. It steals my breath away every damn time.

“Panty melting,” she purrs.

“Then my job here is done.” She smiles and takes another bite. “The movers are supposed to be here around seven tomorrow morning. It shouldn’t take them long, then we’ll head to your place. I have everything we should need on our trip, so just pack any personal items you want to take.”

“Do I need anything specific?” she asks with a wink. She is the adventure seeker, not me. I visualize a pack worthy of someone preparing to climb Everest.

“Make sure you pack layers. We’ll leave as soon as the truck pulls out.”

“I guess I should go then. Just finding the box my hiking boots are in should prove a challenge. Thanks for dinner.” She stands and moves to the door. “Peter?”

“Yeah.” I wait for what she’s going to say. She seems to be on the brink of saying more but then reconsiders.

“See you tomorrow.”

Then she’s gone. I wish she had just said what she wanted to. Ever since I’ve known her, she’s had a wall firmly in place. Not just on my account either. No one that I’ve ever seen gets all of her.

I’ve never challenged her on that wall. I understand why it’s there. It took me a year of living in a dorm room with Rand to earn his trust enough to learn that the house they grew up in was one of violence. The best thing their mother did was send them to boarding school. Unfortunately, it was on opposite sides of the country.

The only support Geneva had in her young life was ripped away from her when Rand left for New England. She was left with an angry father, a barely existent mother, and a rebellious streak a mile long.

But sometimes the devil you know is better than the unknown. When Rand went to work for his father, he brought me with him. Geneva joined us the next year, and I got a first-hand look at the control Joseph Randolph had over his children.

Now, they’ve found their way out. Rand is living happily with his wife and new baby, the result of the best accident to ever happen to him. And Geneva is moving to a new city to join us in forming a new company.

I think this trip will be as important for her in making the transition as it is to me. I just hope we can survive a week of hiking, riding, rafting, and each other.

* * *

The movers show up bright and early the next morning. I’ve decided to donate or sell most of my stuff. Nothing like embracing the idea of starting life over with new things. As a result, it doesn’t take long to load out what’s left. A couple of hours later, I pull up outside Geneva’s apartment.

“Hey,” I say when she meets me. She seems a little skittish today. “Are you okay?”

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