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“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
Avery refocuses herself and begins asking me more questions about my past. Mostly easy ones about my childhood, family, and safe topics that still say so much about who I am. I couldn’t help but do the same, wanting to find out as much as I could about the real Avery.
“Thank you, by the way,” she finally says after a few thoughtful moments of silence have gone by.
“For what?”
“Offering to be there for me,” Avery says.
Fucking Christ.
Offering to be her sounding board, to give her guidance, like anyone close to her should, is causing Avery to break.
She drains the rest of her second drink.
Before we can go too much farther into this, she begins to pull out money from her purse. Two drinks are her limit I’ve noticed. Avoiding being vulnerable is another.
“I’ve got it,” I say as I gently place my hand on hers.
A surge of electricity goes through me. She tries to pull back slightly, but I can’t let go. I rub small circles with my thumb again against her hand blatantly. I find myself staring at the connection while she’s staring at me.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“Any time, Avery. I mean it. If you ever need someone to talk to, please confide in me. I’m here for you.”
I look up and meet her gaze.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lachlan.”
“It’s a date.”
I lift her hand up and kiss it. A soft peck to get my fix of my Goldie girl. I instantly hate the loss of connection as I drop her hand to let her walk away.
Slowly, right before the exit, she turns to look at me. I smile widely because Avery just caught me staring at her perfect backside.
She blushes hard in realization.
I wink at her before turning back to the bar to finish my whiskey.
Fucking caught again. As I signal to the bartender that I’ll take one more drink and the check, I’ve come to my own realization about Avery and me.
There is one truth that both of us won’t be able to deny.
Today is the day Avery and I will both forever remember as the one when everything changed between us.
I don’t think having Avery be just my friend is an option anymore. I think I’d like to keep her for myself.
The next day, dressed-up Avery returns to my office. She’s holding a box in her arms.
“What’s that?” I can’t help but ask.
“Samples from Patricia,” she says with a small giggle.
Avery plops the box onto the ground. She kneels next to it and starts pulling out the samples of invitations, menus, place cards, and what looks to be any fucking paper item we want to order.
Rolling up my button-down dress shirt sleeves, I find a place to get to work with Avery.
