Page 54 of Beyond Question

He holds onto my jaw for a long moment, then shakes his head. “Christ, woman. My self-control is seriously being tested right now.” He drops his hand to his lap and I try to look away as he adjusts himself, but he squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t act like you’re surprised that this is how I react to you. I’ve wanted you since the moment you called mebasket blanket duckguy.”

I giggle, then throw a hand over my mouth.

He presses his mouth to my ear and whispers, “I love the sound of your laugh.”

I draw a shaky breath, cheeks hot as I try to gather my wits—and whatever brain cells I have left after that kiss.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, until I finally ask, “Do you want to go eat?”

“I’m happy where I am.”

I roll my lips between my teeth to keep from grinning like a wild woman.

“Tell me about your favorite book.”

I sigh and close my eyes. “That one’s easy.” As I dive into explaining the best book I’ve ever read, one of the first books I had the pleasure of editing back in my early days at Penguin, I feel him relax, and I do the same, settling into the crook of his arm as if I was always meant to be here.

Eventually, we move onto current market trends and he shares some of the financial side of running a publishing house, some of which I already know because my house is small, so my hand is in every aspect, but some things are news to me. Of course, his experience with publishing is on a much larger scale,so it’s interesting to see his side of things, and I’m intrigued by the way his mind works. He actually becomes animated talking about numbers and charts.

It’s strangely endearing. And this is coming from someone who detests mathematics.

Eventually, the bus begins to shake gently as people climb back on below us, and as they make their way to the upper level and settle into their seats, I settle back against him and we sit in comfortable silence.

A little while later, when the bus starts across the Brooklyn Bridge, Travis whispers, “Is that what you want?”

“Hm?” I ask.

“That version of happily ever after we talked about… the baby and all that.”

I’m quiet for a moment as I contemplate my answer. The initial answer is no, I don’t want that. Not because I don’t want children but because I already have one—and because I gave up on fairytales a long, long time ago.

I turn to look at him and his gaze flicks back and forth between my eyes, but then he nods and looks past me at the skyline. “It’s gorgeous from this view, isn’t it?”

I nod, settling back against his chest. In all my thirty years in this city, I’ve been on this bridge countless times, but sitting atop a sightseeing bus gives me the freedom to actually pay attention to the view.

“This wasn’t theworstidea,” I admit quietly.

Travis squeezes my shoulder. “I’m sorry?”

I run my tongue over my teeth, fighting back a smile as I raise my voice. “This is fun. I’m... enjoying myself.”

“I’ve never met anyone who could say that so begrudgingly. Well done.”

I nudge him with my shoulder and he uses the movement to tighten his arm around me. “I’m having fun, too, Paige. Thank you for giving me another chance.”

As we drive into Brooklyn proper, the tour guide comes back to the top level and begins a surprisingly decent performance of Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York”, complete with microphone and backup music that blasts from speakers sticking out the sides of the bus.

We all join in on the chorus, and I’m happier than I have been in some time as I listen to Travis hit not a single correct note.

But beneath that happiness is something else.

The heavy weight of my answer to his earlier question.

It doesn’t matter what Iwant—women in my situation don’t get happily ever afters.

Chapter Eighteen

Travis

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