Page 95 of The Fear of Falling
Eric’s eyebrows pull low as he continues to look from Benson to me. He’s not an idiot, and we covered our tracks about as well as a toddler with a handful of broken crackers. “Did you two—”
“Yes,” I blurt out. Benson groans, but I move to his side of the closet and take his hand, smiling when he laces our fingers together like he can’t help it. We were going to get found out anyway because we clearly can’t stay away from each other, and at this point I don’t want to pretend I’m anything but who I am.
And I’m a woman madly in love with the man next to me. Eric has obviously moved on, so I can too, and he has no say in who I love.
I lift my head high to meet Eric’s incredulous stare. “In Florence, actually.”
Eric’s confusion shifts to surprise. “Florence? But how did…?”
Benson turns to me, those beautiful blue eyes of his taking in my features the same way he did that day we first ran into each other on the street. “It’s a long story,” he says, squeezing my hand as a smile blossoms across his face. “But it’s a good one.”
Epilogue
Avery
One year later
“Whatisitwiththis city not having enough taxis?” I lean around the line of people queued up to get an elusive ride.
The woman in front of me glances back, her eyes trailing from my hair that badly needs a wash to my shoes that are more like slippers. She huffs and mutters something in Italian before turning back around to face forward. Apparently she did not like what she saw, and she is content to wait for a taxi in silence.
Pity. I’ve been starved for conversation for the last eighteen hours, and from the looks of this line, I’ll be here for a while longer. I could try to pull the guy behind me into a chat, but he looks a bit too much like he could be Italian mafia with the way his eyes have been shifty since we got off the train from Rome.He might be a perfectly nice man who is eager to get home, but I don’t know if I should take my chances.
Grabbing my phone, I refresh all my messaging apps in the hope that something might come through. I’ve paid to have better mobile data on this trip, but I haven’t heard a word from anyone since my flight left Salt Lake. Granted, my cousins all have their own lives, but not a peep from any of them? I haven’t even gotten a message on my work app despite Dani’s second book coming out in less than a month. I guess Eric meant it when he said he would handle things while I was gone.
It helps that we’re no longer a team of three. There are six of us full-time Rose & Quill employees now, and it’s really starting to feel like we’re building something that will last.
“Mi scusi, signorina,” a male voice says nearby. “Hai bisogno di un passaggio?”
Still focused on my phone, I curse my lack of Italian, though I’ve been trying to learn over the last few months. Maybe the woman in front of me would be more open to chat if I spoke her language. Most Italians know English, but crossing the language barrier shouldn’t be all on them.
“Sei eccezionalmente bella,” the same voice says.
A nap is starting to sound extra nice despite being the worst possible thing I could do today. It’s only ten in the morning, and I should force myself to stay awake to beat the jet lag quickly. Butsleep. The flight was brutal, and I was stuck next to a stressed-out woman with a fussy baby. I spent a lot of the flight trying to entertain her child and save the rest of the passengers from a long, loud night.
“Com’è possibile che il tuo telefono sia più interessante di me, Avery Grace?”
My heart stumbles over a beat or two at the sound of my name, and I finally look up to see the owner of the voice. I break into a grin. “Benson.”
He wasn’t supposed to get here until later tonight, but there he is, leaning out the window of a taxi with a smile that leaves me breathless. With his scruffy chin on his arm and his blue eyes bright in the Tuscan sun, he is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in weeks. “Need a ride?” he asks, and his lips twist into a smirk.
A few people nearby start muttering in complaint, and the déjà vu of this moment nearly makes me laugh. “I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way,” I tell him.
Slipping from the car, he looks at the line of people with an exaggerated grimace. “You’re welcome to get your own car, but I don’t think it’ll be very easy.”
I raise an eyebrow and slowly step out of the line, feeling the eyes of my fellow taxi-wanters on my back as I roll my suitcase along the cobblestone. “Where did you get yours?”
Benson leans in close and speaks in my ear. “Trade secret.”
Ignoring the shiver that runs through me at his nearness, I lean back to look at him and tilt my head to the side. “No woman in her right mind would agree to a ride after a line like that.”
Benson snakes his arm around me, pulling me against his body and breathing me in. “Youdid.”
“I clearly wasn’t in my right mind.”
“I’m so glad about that.”
His kiss is warm and familiar, everything I’ve fallen in love with. I melt into him, hardly caring about our rather large audience. “I missed you,” I say when I eventually break away.
