Page 69 of The Fear of Falling
I grin and settle a little lower, though now my chin is pressed to my chest because only my head’s against the headboard. It’s not at all comfortable, but I don’t want to lie down and fall asleep while on the phone. Stifling a yawn, I switch to speaker phone and set my phone on my stomach. “Sounds like you should ask her about her goals.”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess I could do that, huh? The problem is she’ll probably think I’m being condescending.”
“Then don’t ask in a condescending way.”
“Right. But I don’t know how to—”
“Avery Baldwin, just be yourself. The woman I met in Italy wasn’t at all condescending.”
“Even when I was insulting you?”
My face stretches into a wide grin that morphs into another yawn almost instantly. I can’t stay in this position, so I scoot down and rest my head on my pillow. “Even then. Snarky Avery is kind of my favorite.”
“That says more about you than about me.”
She needs to stop being so adorable. “Case in point. Be genuine with Poppy and show interest in her life, and the rest will come.”
“I hope you’re right.”
I chuckle and let my eyes fall closed. “I’m always right.” That’s so not true, but I say it anyway.
“About most things, maybe.” Avery pauses, and her words come out hesitant. “But you’re wrong about us, Benson.”
Us. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself that we can’t exist as a pair. It’s becoming increasingly obvious that I want her. In every way. If we’d met a decade ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to make a move, but now? In my thirty-five years, I’ve had to learn to check myself. Weigh the consequences. Move forward only when no one will get hurt.
How can I put that into words that Avery will accept? She knows the stakes, but she keeps pushing, and I love the way she’s so determined to go for what she wants, no matter the risks.
But can I do the same?
Before I started my company, my life was a series of mess-ups and mistakes, one failure after another, and I’m so close to finally doing something right if I can just stay focused onclimbing to the next level. If I can stop letting myself get distracted.
Unsure what to say, I offer up a noncommittal, “Mm.”
Maybe I dream what she says next. Maybe it’s real. I don’t know. But her words settle over me like a thick blanket in the dead of winter.
“You’re not willing to admit it yet, but we could be a great us, Benson. You and me, taking on the world together. Trust me.”
I don’t think I’ve ever trusted anyone more.
But it’s not that easy.
Chapter 24
Avery
Thursdayisthebusiestday I’ve had in a long time, and it’s simultaneously the best and worst thing to happen right now. Lynda got an influx of submissions and sent over half a dozen that all look promising, though I don’t get a chance to look at them because one of our authors calls me in tears because she’s stressing about her deadline and needs me to talk her down from the ledge before she gives up on writing entirely.
I spend almost an hour on the phone with her, during which Benson pokes his head into my office to tell me something but my full focus is on the phone call. I mouth an apology to him, but he’s busy with his own phone call when I get freed up, so I can’t ask him what he was going to say.
When lunchtime rolls around and Benson stops by and offers to order in lunch, I’m in the middle of a video chat with the social media manager I hired yesterday to get her onboarded into the system, so he mutters something about ordering for me and disappears. He’s nowhere to be found when the food arrives, andI have to guess which meal he picked for me and leave the other on Eric’s desk.
I swear, every second of the day, one of us is busy, and I hardly get to see the man until I’m blearily shutting down my computer at six thirty and thinking about going straight to bed. After such a casual day yesterday, I should have realized today would have to balance things out.
Gathering up my things, I head out and find Benson on the balcony, gazing at the mountains again with his phone in his hand. He’s wearing a short-sleeved button-up, along with those dark jeans that looked so good on him yesterday, and I’m liking the way his style is slowly getting more casual, like he’s settling in at Rose & Quill.
As I approach his spot at the railing, he turns to look at me and offers a tired smile that seems to be hiding something deeper, but I don’t get a chance to ask what’s bothering him because my phone vibrates in my purse and pulls my attention. Because of course it does. The universe doesn’t want me to talk to Benson today.
The text is from Eric, which only frustrates me more.
