Page 48 of The Fear of Falling
Avery must think so too because she rolls her eyes and pushes past me, heading for the doors. “Forget it.”
I should let her go. Her frustration is exactly the sort of thing that can keep our relationship in the professional sphere. But what I should do is not often the thing I end up doing. “I want to,” I assure her, hot on her heels as she reaches the stairwell. “But it’s a bad idea.”
“Colleagues have dinner all the time.”
“You and I both know we’re not just colleagues.”
Coming to a sudden stop in the middle of the stairs, she whirls to face me. But she’s on a lower step than I am, so her face is level with my sternum. Groaning, she stomps back up the stairs until we’re at eye level with each other, which only adds to my attraction. “What does that mean, Benson? Either Italy meant something or it didn’t, but you can’t have it both ways.”
I open my mouth, but I have nothing to say. Not anything she wants to hear. But words rise in my throat, like they’re desperate to be free, and I find myself saying, “Of course Italy meant something.”
I curse under my breath as Avery’s eyes fill with tears because she obviously reads between the lines.
“But not enough,” she whispers.
I let her continue down the stairs without argument. She doesn’t look back, and I don’t move. She’s wrong. Our connection in Florence means more than anything has meant in a long time, but it also terrifies me because I don’t know what to do with it. I’m only here for a few weeks, which is the case everywhere I go. What can I really offer her? And that says nothing about Eric or Lynda or my family here in Utah.
It’s all too complicated, which means things have to stay professional, no matter how hard it will be.
Chapter 18
Avery
Ican’tsayI’msurprised by today’s turn of events, though I wish I didn’t have to deal with everything all at once. First a text from Grandma Sue, cordially inviting the whole family to a party to celebrate my youngest, most annoying male cousin, Kaden, graduating from Harvard. Then Eric telling me he’s going to the Books and Bows conference without me even though I’ve brought that conference up for the last three years, telling him I want to go. And then Benson…
As I get to the front counter of my favorite restaurant, ready to order takeout, I pause before giving my order. I meant it when I told Benson I don’t want to be alone right now. Especially not at my apartment, where there are still books everywhere. I haven’t been able to move the bookshelves on my own, so I’m stuck in an overwhelming limbo. I’d hoped one of my cousins would be able to help, but Sadie will be busy for the next few days, and Poppy is always working. I don’t have any non-family friends because my life has been Rose & Quill for the last few years.
So it looks like I’ll be in limbo for a while. Being at my apartment is kind of depressing until I can get it all sorted, and I’m already in a bad mood.
Instead of ordering my food to go, I ask for a table. I can wallow with strangers instead of wallowing by myself.
Once I’m settled at one of the only open tables, close to the lobby, I grab my phone and pull up the cousin chat so I can try to set the story straight about Benson before Sadie makes any conjectures. I haven’t told my cousins that he’s here, and by some miracle Dani hasn’t blabbed. Yet. I need to make sure they don’t think he and I are going to be a thing, and I start typing.
But movement at the door catches my eye, and my stomach does a little flip, as if I know who’s coming inside before he does.
Sure enough, Benson steps into the lobby, his eyes on his phone as he gets in line. My body reacts immediately, sparking to life at the sight of his sleeves rolled up and top two buttons undone. He’s more dressed down than he’s been all week, and those forearms…
Mentally slapping some sense into myself, I return my focus to my phone. Benson doesn’t want anything to happen as far as a relationship goes. He made that very clear in the stairwell, even if he also made it clear that he wasn’t entirely unaffected by our Italian fling. This man may claim to be the king of casual, but he felt something for me, and it feels like the only things standing between us are his friendship with Eric and a strange sense of professionalism that wasn’t present in Florence.
Was that the real Benson? Or is it this stuffed up, no nonsense consultant who has no problem smiling and flirting unless it’s reciprocated?
Gah! When I’m trying not to think about him, I’m thinking about him. I hate this. I hate the hard line he’s drawn. I hate that Eric suddenly seems determined to stand between me and the things I want.
Or maybe he’s always done that and I was too blind to see it. That feels more likely, which means I have Benson to thank for this shift in my dynamic with my business partner.
“It’s probably a half-hour wait,” the hostess says, and I look up to see that it’s Benson she’s talking to.
Benson lets out a heavy sigh, like this is the worst news of his life. Half an hour isn’t that long, and there are about a million other restaurants in the area he could try. But instead he sits on one of the vinyl benches and pushes his hands into his hair, elbows on his knees. He’s still holding his phone, and a dangerous idea sparks in my mind.
Why does he get to decide our relationship and where the boundaries lie? Why does Eric get to choose whether I go to a conference I have been dying to go to? Why do I never make choices for myself? Even in Italy, I did whatever Benson suggested I should do. While it was fun, I wasn’t being true to myself.
I start a new text thread, adding in the number I stole from Benson’s email signature the other day.
Avery:
Are you going to sit there looking like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, or will you come share my table with me?
He slowly sits up again and looks at his phone, and his brow furrows as he reads the text I sent. Then he looks up. The moment his eyes lock with mine, his face softens and leaves me feeling both excited and terrified. Will he join me? Or is he going to keep his distance when there’s no good reason for him to?
