Page 67 of The Fear of Falling
Her use of the “uncool” emoji makes me smile, and already I feel lighter than I have in hours. Eric’s phone call put me in a bad mood, and I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve smiled since then.
He’s not being a very good friend, Avery said about Eric today. While she’s right, she’s also wrong. She’s wrong becauseEric sent me a text when he got to Denver this evening that reminded me why I came back to Utah in the first place.
Eric:
Made it to CO. Sorry for being pushy earlier. I worry about you being this close to your family and doing something impulsive like you used to, and I don’t want you or Avery to get hurt. We have to look out for each other, right?
Like we did in college. I owe the guy a lot, and the least I can do is let him grieve his relationship in peace without stepping on his turf. Deep down, he’s still a good guy, and he’ll go back to the considerate and emotionally stable man he’s always been once things at Rose & Quill calm down a bit and he has more time to process his lingering feelings for Avery.
My phone lights up with a call, making me jump, and I stare at Avery’s name for a long moment before slowly sliding the answer button. “Hey?” I cringe when my greeting comes out as a question.
“Hi.”
“Uh, what’s up?”
She laughs, and it sounds nervous. “Poppy just left.”
“Okay?”
“And I need to talk to someone more my speed before I feel like a complete doofus.”
She wanted to talk to me? She heard my side of the conversation with Eric, and her expressions said it all. She knows the promise I made, and she knows I won’t let this go anywhere. But she still wants to talk to me, which makes me feel…something. Relieved? Terrified? Compelled to do anything she asks of me?
Probably that last one.
“Because we’re friends,” she adds, a little breathless.
I have never hated that word as much as I do when it comes to Avery Grace Baldwin. “Friends,” I repeat dumbly. “Why do you feel like a doofus?”
“The goal is tonotfeel like a doofus.”
“Ah, right. But why would you—”
“Because Poppy is so smart, but she says things and I have no idea what she’s talking about, so I have to smile and nod and pretend I’m not completely out of my depth with her. The other cousins talk to her all the time, but I always feel like we’re speaking different languages.”
I sit up as she speaks and wait until I’m sure she’s done talking before I say anything. “So you feel like a doofus when you talk to her,” I say to sum up for her.
“Ugh, yes! It makes me feel like the worst cousin in the world.”
“You’re not.”
“I am! I used to take care of Lucy all the time while her mom was at work, but now I barely talk to her. I was a miserable pain at Chloe’s wedding. Lately almost all of my conversations with Sadie have been about editing and deadlines, like she’s just an employee instead of family.”
I can’t help but smile at the dramatic way she delivers these lines, which is the only reason I know she’s not entirely serious about what she’s saying. If she was, her voice would be quiet and broken. But dramatics aside, there’s real pain in her words, and I want to do anything I can to soothe that pain.
“I haven’t talked to any of my cousins in fifteen years, maybe more.” Those words hurt to say, but this phone call isn’t about me. “And I have spent so little time with my nieces and nephews that I genuinely can’t remember the names of the youngest three. You’re not a bad cousin, Avery.”
She’s quiet for a long time, and I don’t bother filling the silence. She’s bound to have a lot of questions, but I won’t giveher more information until she asks for it. Talking about my family is never easy, but if I’m lucky, showing her how terrible I am with my family should make her feel way better about her own interactions.
“You have nieces and nephews?” she asks, and her voice has gotten small, like she’s worried I’ll end the conversation if she pushes too much. It’s a fair worry to have because there’s always that chance.
But tonight, I want to tell her. I take a deep breath, too tired to try to keep my personal life under lock and key anymore. Eric and Lynda know about my family, so what’s one more person? “Yeah. Ten of them. Kimball—he’s my oldest brother—has four kids, and McKay has six.”
“Wow.”
“Yep.”
“And…you don’t remember all of their names?”
