Falling Madly

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Teresa

18 months ago

I arrived at our client’s penthouse apartment in my sequin-adorned little black dress, ready to impress. The party was in full swing, with the thumping bass and laughter reaching my ears before the elevator doors even opened.

I’d heard stories of Gavin Buckland and his crypto millions (we called him Crypto-Gavin), but it was fun to see it with my own eyes. He’d invited the entire creative team to his Fourth of July gathering. Maybe he hadn’t expected everyone to show up, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity, and it seemed neither could anyone else.

I was gunning for the lead designer role on the crypto game creative team, which meant sucking up to him and his minions. Not that I was succeeding at that. Sucking up didn’t come naturally to me.

I waved at a couple of colleagues, who looked as baffled as I felt surrounded by the huge, opulently decorated apartment featuring multiple seating areas and the nighttime panorama of Denver. Seeing familiar people relaxed me a bit, but my eyes scanned across the drinks and nibbles, searching for Trevor. I didn’t even question it. Being near him relaxed me more than anything else, and I needed to chill.

After a moment of searching, I spotted his broad shoulders out on the balcony. Dark hair curled on his neck and the cigarette burned in his hand like a tiny red beacon, pulling me closer. Underneath the beard, I imagined he looked like James Dean. A handsome legend. But I kind of preferred him with the beard—a forest ranger version of a movie star with striking blue-green eyes framed by dark lashes, his slanted, sexy smile partially hiding behind the scruff. Like he couldn’t care less, yet always brought his unshakable calm and disarming wit. An ego that gave everyone else enough space without curling in on itself.

This must have been Denver’s tallest building. An occasional firework pierced the sky, countless parties in progress around us. The heat of the day still lingered in the air and the wooden banister felt warm to my touch. He smiled, his eyes lighting up. They were usually so relaxed he looked almost sleepy, entirely unaffected by the drama around him.

His beard looked freshly trimmed, and I gently scoffed at his vintage One Direction T-shirt. I knew he wore it to taunt me. You should never reveal your childhood crushes to anyone.

“Happy Fourth of July!” He offered me a cigarette.

“Thanks. How was Charlie’s meeting?”

We’d been dancing around this attraction for weeks, but it felt safer to talk about work. I was also desperate to find out about this one job—I’d put everything into designing concepts for the crypto game, and I needed to know if Charlie had presented any of my work to the client.

Trevor leaned on the banister, gazing at the city lights flickering below us. “Heard it went well, aye,” he said, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Do ye really want to talk about work?”

I did, but it didn’t seem like the right answer. “I guess not.”

“Have ye met Crypto-Gavin yet?”

“No. Where is he?” I glanced over my shoulder, trying to remember what the guy looked like. I’d seen his picture on the website, but only Trevor and Charlie had met him. Charlie was the boss’s son and met everyone. Trevor was a copywriter, which didn’t give him a high status, but as Charlie’s sidekick, he was always there. Not that I was jealous, I told myself. Just a little frustrated.

What would it take for me to be invited into a meeting one day?

“That crypto game might crash and burn, you know.” Trevor’s voice held a warning.

“But if it doesn’t…”

He gazed at the dark horizon. “Then it’ll be an exception.”

“I heard that our team could get tokens. Is that true?”

He shrugged. “I always felt fireworks were for winter. Not when it’s hot enough to fry an egg on the pavement.”

I felt like he was keeping something from me, but he seemed so pessimistic I decided to drop the subject. I wanted to believe it was possible.

The faint sound of my favorite song drifted in through the open glass doors. It was by an underground indie band and hardly ever on anyone’s playlist. I finished my cigarette and wandered back inside. If Trevor was going to sulk and shit on my dreams, he could stay where he was. We were just flirting. I owed him nothing.

I spotted Charlie amongst the partygoers, surrounded by three blondes. He offered me an unsure smile and I veered toward the bar. Me and Charlie didn’t mix that well, so it was best I stayed away. I grabbed one of the red, white and blue cocktails set out on a tray and downed it too fast. It must have been pure vodka and food coloring.

I hated flirting at work, no matter how well it might have served me in certain situations. I wanted to impress people, not lead them on or stroke their egos. For the sake of my career, I should have occasionally positioned myself in the vicinity of Charlie and the gang to nod and smile at their jokes. I should have giggled and looked at them with starry-eyed adoration. But there was something wrong with my brain, and I couldn’t flirt without genuine interest. And that’s why I only flirted with Trevor.

I grabbed a second drink and looked for another familiar face, someone I could talk to. The crowd was more friend-of-a-friend than close acquaintance. The one colleague I truly liked, Bess, was home with her daughter. She hardly ever made it to parties. I should have put more effort into befriending my colleagues, but George kept hiring and firing temps with such frequency it felt pointless. Plus, I’d recently caught two newbies making fun of Bess behind her back and didn’t feel like knowing any of them that closely. People like that were not worth my time.

I saw a curly-haired woman who I’d talked to at a couple of industry events and tried to recall her name. When it finally came to me—Angie—she was pulled away by someone and a man I’d never seen before appeared in front of me.

He was clean-shaven and had too much product in his stiff hair, but I liked the way he smiled. Confident and friendly, with a hint of nerves. “Hi! I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Kyle.”

He offered his hand, which hardly anyone did at these casual cocktail parties, and I took it. “Teresa.”

“You’re from Wilde Creative, right?”

“Yes. And you are from…”

“XYZ.”

XYZ. Crypto-Gavin. My posture straightened automatically, and I tried to relax my face. Was I looking too eager or creepy?

“So… you’re here with Gavin?” I scanned the room, hoping he’d point out the mythical CEO.

If nothing else, I could try to avoid him, which would ensure I didn’t embarrass myself in front of him.

Kyle looked over his shoulder, gesturing so vaguely it was no help. “Yeah. He’s here somewhere. Gavin’s hard to pin down. But we’re very excited to work with Wilde! None of us are creative like that. It’s so cool what you guys can do.”

“It’s a fascinating project.”

His eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Are you… working with us?”

I caught Trevor’s tall frame in my peripheral vision, in the doorway to the balcony. I could feel him approaching, like a shadow casting across the floor.

“I hope so,” I said, draining my drink.

“Reese!” Trevor’s giant hand landed on my shoulder. “I need to show you something. Excuse us.” He offered Kyle a quick smile, pivoting me away from him, out of earshot.

“Reese?”

“I’m user-testing nicknames.”

“Where’s the feedback form?” I was hyper aware of his hand on my shoulder but tried not to show it. Trevor was touching me.

He laughed, walking me across the large living room, weaving between people. “Is it not working? How about Rizz? Rizzler?”

“Are you twelve?”

“I have the sunny disposition of a twelve-year-old boy, hormones of a teenager and lungs of an eighty-year-old man.”

I had to laugh. “Sounds like a winning combo.”

I didn’t pay attention to where he was taking me, and suddenly found myself outside the apartment, waiting for an elevator. When it arrived, Trevor pulled me in.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

In the close quarters of the elevator, his broad frame seemed to take up all the space. Our faces reflected off the mirrored walls like a kaleidoscope of drunken smiles. He’d been teasing me for weeks. But always in jest. Always keeping his cool so that if I shot him down, he could step away smiling. No harm, no foul.

Trevor fascinated me. He seemed so even-keeled that I gravitated to him every time the slightest bit of drama erupted in the office. Next to him, I felt almost invincible, protected by that unflappable smile and tree-like physique. But I couldn’t figure out if he was really that chill, or just dissociating somehow.

I knew that I shouldn’t date a colleague. It was messy and could easily backfire. But he wasn’t my boss, so nobody could say I was trying to sleep my way anywhere. My tipsy brain loved that argument, hanging onto it as I leaned a little closer. I caught a whiff of his aftershave, something spicy and woodsy and all-man, and I wanted more.

I must have leaned a little too hard because my elbow brushed the alarm button on the wall. A loud ringing hit my eardrums.

“Shit! Shit!” What had I done?

The ringing continued for a moment as I stared at Trevor, my brain spinning in panicky circles, generating wild scenarios. Was this like calling an ambulance when you didn’t need it? Would they charge a call-out fee? Would they tell Crypto-Gavin since it was his building?

“What is your emergency?” A tired male voice rattled through the speaker on the wall.

Trevor bent down to speak to the microphone. “Apologies. False alarm.” There wasn’t a hint of shame or panic in his voice.

“Copy that.” The guy disconnected and the elevator came to a stop.

I took a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves. I could usually keep my inner chaos and spikes of anxiety to myself and appear somewhat collected. I’d been perfecting the act for years. But Trevor was the real deal. No elevated heart rate or rapid breathing. He seemed to have no physical reaction of any kind.

Sure, it was only an alarm button. No big deal. But I’d never accidentally hit one.

“Do you play show tunes in your head?” I asked as we stepped into a dark hallway.

“Show tunes?”

“Reruns of the Simpsons?”

He blinked slowly, trying to follow my runaway thought train.

“How do you stay so calm?” I clarified. “You must have a solid happy place. Like, on another planet. None of that babbling brook shit.”

He chuckled. “You’re a babbling brook.”

An uncontrollable laugh erupted from me, and I leaned on the wall to keep my balance. “It was so loud. I seriously jumped out of my skin.”

Finding my center of gravity, I adjusted my dress to make sure my bra wasn’t peeking through the plunging neckline. I might have been feeling a little drunk, but there was no reason to look trashed.

His eyes dipped to my cleavage. “I’m used to it. My family home had a smoke alarm that went off every time anyone made toast.”

I pulled a face. “Sounds awful.”

“Then one year, I bought my mom a new toaster for Mother’s Day.”

“Instead of cleaning the old one?”

“That’s what she said!”

A moment of sadness lingered in the air. I knew his mom was long dead and all those stories of his family had taken place years ago in Scotland, which made them sound like fairy tales to me. Sweet and nostalgic.

He led me down the hallway to a frosted glass door labeled “spa.”

“There’s a spa?”

“Sort of.” Trevor produced a swipe card from his pocket and tapped it on the reader. The door slid open with a beep. “Take a look.”

Crypto-Gavin lived a life of luxury, so I’d already expected something grand. Still, the massive swimming pool surrounded by huge indoor plants took me by surprise. Like a jungle-themed holiday destination on an international space station if NASA had the budget.

We found a bench under two potted palm trees overlooking the silent pool. Ornate lanterns hung overhead, creating an eerie atmosphere. I heard a faint tip-tip-tip of water dripping somewhere far away.

I let out a reverent sigh. “This is impressive and unreal, all at the same time.”

“Aye. The ultimate controlled environment.” His hand brushed against mine and stayed. “I prefer wild nature with all its discomforts. You?”

I glanced at our hands. At work, we never touched, not even by accident. Tonight was different. The skin on my shoulder still glowed from where he’d placed his arm around me. That first touch had woken my nerves, making me hyper aware of him. Of us. He’d claimed me in front of Kyle like I wasn’t just a colleague but… something more.

“Sure. Overly controlled and manicured is a bit creepy. But I also like coffee shops and movie theaters and occasional concerts that don’t involve line dancing, so I prefer civilization over small towns or total wilderness.”

He was quiet for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. I knew he disagreed, which was fine. It wasn’t like we were getting married and deciding where we wanted to live.

“I love the mountains. I’d happily give up lattes and concerts for a cabin in the woods, if I could convince George to let me work from home.”

I smiled at the thought. “Cabin in the woods, huh? What would you do there all day long?”

“Hunt and fish, build things…”

“And split logs and make fire and push the snow?”

“Aye. O’ course.”

The mental image of him wielding an axe flashed behind my eyes. Why was it so easy to imagine him as a mountain man? A laugh bubbled in my belly, and I couldn’t resist poking fun at him. “Every day, you buy your coffee from that pretentious master barista. You get your beard trimmed and waxed at that place downstairs from the office. I’ve seen them give manicures…”

He wedged his fingers under his legs, grinning. “What? Lumberjacks can’t have oiled cuticles?”

“Not unless it’s motor oil.”

He revealed his hand, studying his short and rough nails. “Well. Good thing I’ve never tried a manicure. They sell a nice beard oil, though.” He brushed a hand over his dark facial hair and grinned.

Our hands were no longer touching, but he shifted slightly, and our elbows made contact. My skin tingled and I held still, not wanting to break the connection.

He chuckled. “You know what, Teresa?”

“What?”

He turned to look me in the eye and the laughter fizzled away. The air vibrated between us. “I lied. I could work from home most of the time. George is a dick, but he’s not a dick about attendance. He’d much rather keep all humans out of the office and deal with machines. So, I could buy a cabin in the mountains and commute once a week. But I haven’t…” He held my gaze. “Because then I wouldn’t get to see you.”

I swallowed, waiting for the punchline. This was Trevor. The one with all the jokes and the loudest laugh. But he wasn’t joking.

“You wouldn’t get to see me ?” I repeated, searching his eyes for a clue. Was he serious? Was this the moment I’d been waiting for when we finally talked about this thing between us? When we finally admitted there was something more than harmless flirting going on?

His voice was low and warm. “Seeing you is the best part of my day.”

“Because my freak-outs are so entertaining?”

Last week, he’d witnessed me running my head under the faucet to cool off after a client who’d asked to see twenty-eight iterations reverted to version one.

Trevor ignored my deflection, looking at me in a way that woke up every nerve in my gut. They vibrated like someone was plucking a mandolin down there.

In the privacy of my bedroom, I’d imagined this moment, and sometimes a little further. I’d imagined him cornering me in the office, late at night, and each of us confessing to what was really going on in our minds. Giving in to passion that replaced the need for words and cut through all the uncertainty.

I’d been ready to take that first step. Maybe tonight. Maybe here. But I’d never imagined his words quite like this—subtle and vulnerable. I felt off kilter. The only part of his body touching mine was that elbow, his hands now wedged under his thighs like he was trying to keep them from misbehaving. “Everything about you is fascinating,” he said.

My breath turned ragged, but I tried to smile. “You don’t think I’m scary?”

He shook his head. “I’m not easily scared. Also, I’m not looking for a subservient woman.”

“So, you’re looking for a challenge?” I’d been that to some. A mountain to climb. A bet to win. I shuddered.

“You’re not a challenge. More like a… mystery. I like mysteries.”

My shoulders dropped a little and the bubbly feeling in my center returned. “Do you think I’m hiding something?”

“Everyone’s hiding something. To be honest, I think most people are mysteries, but you’re the best kind of mystery.”

“ Best kind?” I chuckled, thoroughly entertained by his musings.

“Aye. The kind of mystery that raises juicy questions on the first page, so you must keep turning the pages.”

“What kind of juicy questions?”

He tilted his head. “Why do ye work so hard? Why do you pitch ideas for campaigns that you aren’t assigned to? I mean, they’re great ideas, but most people wouldn’t have the interest or capacity. So, why?”

My body clenched. “If I have an idea, why wouldn’t I share it?”

He narrowed his eyes. “That’s the thing. Ye don’t randomly get ideas for other people’s jobs unless you think about them. So, why do you think about them?”

My cheeks heated and I turned away from him. I’d always tried to do it in a casual way, saying something like, “Hey, I saw you guys are working on that cheesecake campaign and I had a thought…” But it was true. I browsed the job board, read all the briefs, and dreamed of being assigned to the higher profile, challenging jobs. And when I wasn’t, I inserted myself. It felt better than being completely on the outside, even if they just grabbed my ideas and took credit for them. Which happened regularly.

Trevor’s voice was gentle. “I’m not trying to embarrass you. I can tell you’re bored and need challenges. And your ideas are brilliant.”

“But…” I helped him out, sensing the word on his tongue.

“But… some of the lads find you intimidating.”

Of course. “So, that’s why nobody wants me on their team?”

“I do. But I don’t have that much say.”

“Ha!” I yelped in protest. If anyone had say with Charlie, it was him.

I kicked off my heels and launched off the bench, tiptoeing to the pool’s edge. Careful of my short dress, I sat down, dipping my legs into the water. It felt warmer than I’d expected, almost like a hot tub. I spread my toes and moved my feet, relieving the ache and numbness caused by the not-so-sensible three-inch heels.

After a moment, Trevor joined me. He’d removed his shoes and rolled up his jeans. “Now it feels like a beach trip.”

He took a deep breath that somehow made him sound like an old man, tired of life.

“What were you like growing up?” I asked. “I have a hard time imagining you climbing trees and riding highland horses or whatever you did.”

He chuckled. “Is it the rattling lungs? I’ve had a chest infection for two months, and I know I need to quit smoking. I really know it. I used to be quite fit. I still lift, but I don’t run that much anymore. When I was a lad, our house was on a hillside, and I’d run up and down all the time. Down to the loch, to town to buy sweets, bum cigarettes… Fuck, I felt invincible.” He huffed.

“When did you start smoking?”

“At sixteen. I had a friend who was hooked already, and I didn’t want him to feel alone.”

“That’s the craziest reason to smoke!”

He nodded in agreement, hanging his head. Something about him always made me feel safe. As if I knew, without knowing, that he’d lay down his life for me. It made no sense and probably wasn’t true, but a deep, dark part of me craved that feeling. Being that important to someone.

“Looking back, I wish I’d been more of a lone wolf. Could’ve saved my life.”

“It’s not a bad thing that people want you around.” My voice was as quiet as a whisper. “I’m sure it makes life a lot easier.”

I could count with one hand the people who truly wanted me around, with no agenda. Mom, my sister Suze, and Bess. And Trevor, it seemed. I told myself I didn’t mind. People were generally shit sandwiches, and I had no time to weed out the good ones amongst those who were just waiting to stab you in the back. But I also knew I would have been a lot further in my career if I were popular, like him.

It was hard to be friends with colleagues, though. Bess was different, but many others simply saw me as competition. If I’d been a little wary of people before, working in advertising didn’t help.

“Who wouldn’t want you around?” he asked. “You’re a delight.”

“Ha!” The laugh launched out of my chest like a cough induced by a crazy tickle. “That’s a new one.”

“Wha’? I mean it!”

I kept laughing, even if the sound fizzled into something a bit sad. “It just doesn’t sound like me. Sounds a bit fake.”

“Hey! If thinking of someone makes me want to get out of bed, put on clothes and go to work, that person is a delight.”

Something in his voice gave me pause. It wasn’t a light comment.

“Do you often feel like… not getting out of bed?” I finally asked.

He chewed on his lip for a moment before answering. “I’ve had seasons when… it’s been hard. Hard to remember why you’d do anything. Why you’d try.”

“Was that when your mom died?”

“And long after. I think my decision to skip town came back to haunt me. First, I was happy to get away. My family is noisy and involved and everyone was dealing with it in their own way, sort of dragging each other down. So, when I left, I felt like I’d escaped and could start over. New place, new job. No reminders. And I had to work hard, so I didn’t have too much time to think. But over time, the questions start drifting across the ocean. Why’re you still there? When are you coming back? It’s been long enough. And it’s hard to justify staying, even if you feel like you’ve built a life. They don’t see it. They see that I’m single and unattached and having a bit of an extended trip. Time to grow up, Trevor.”

“But your life is here. It’s valid.” My words rushed out too fast. I didn’t want to think of him leaving. Knowing he was there made going to work a lot more attractive to me, too.

“I think so,” he agreed. “And I don’t want to be single.”

“You want to live in a cabin in the woods with someone who skins the deer you shoot and bakes lots of cookies, right?”

He chuckled, knocking my foot with his under the water. I pushed back and our feet locked together in a battle of wills under the surface.

“They’d have to be some disgusting keto cookies. I’m trying to get back into shape.” He slapped his stomach.

As far as I could tell, Trevor didn’t carry a lot of extra weight. I’d never seen him shirtless, though. Maybe he had a bit of padding around the middle. Not that it bothered me. I found ultra-fit guys a bit obnoxious. Nice to look at, but dreadful to listen to. Maybe because maintaining that look in your thirties took so much effort that it easily became your whole personality. Or I kept running into the worst kind—fitness nuts who thrived on the dating apps.

“They’d be disgusting, keto or not. I’m not much of a baker,” I admitted.

“All good. For the record, I’m not looking for a woman in an apron to fatten me up to an early grave. My dad went down that path. The reason he’s still alive is that Mom died, and the baking stopped. He existed on beans on toast for a couple of years, then learned to cook. Now he’s on a healthy diet, so I guess it saved his life. His cholesterol used to be through the roof.”

“Oh, wow. That’s… terrible.”

He huffed. “A bit morbid, I guess. Life’s funny. I’m lucky my cholesterol is fine. Must be my mom’s genes.”

I tilted my head, amused. “Now I’m starting to think you’re not twelve, but fifty-five.”

He ran a hand down his face, grimacing. “Fuck. I need to start moisturizing.”

“It’s not going to help if you keep talking like that.”

Hi grinned back. “Would you like to hear about my colonoscopy?”

I laughed, kicking his leg again, splashing water. “I feel like the whole cabin in the woods dream is something you develop in your sixties. You know, after the kids move out and you don’t have to worry about living near the schools.”

“Well, I’ve always had that dream. Maybe I need to find a sixty-year-old woman to join me if you… youngsters are not interested.”

I tried to laugh, but his words made my stomach clench. Was he asking me to move into the mountains with him? I wanted to breeze past the odd comment, keeping things light and funny, because if he was for real, what did that mean? Were we really having a serious talk about our future? We hadn’t even kissed.

“Trevor?” I said, my voice a little strained. “What are we really talking about?”

He smiled, looking a little uncertain. “I’m scaring you off, aren’t I?”

I shook my head. “I’m not scared. I’m confused.”

“About what?”

I turned so I could look him square in the eye. “About your intentions.”

He looked at me for a moment, as if debating with himself. His beard shifted as the corner of his mouth tugged. “Well, that’s no’ good. A man should always be clear about his intentions.”

“I agree.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I intend to win yer heart. And love you so well, no one else comes close.”

My heart, hearing its name, pounded frantically in my chest. Under the surface, my feet paddled the water as I looked away from him, trying to compose my thoughts. I loved flirting with him. I loved the way he looked at me. But no one had ever dropped these sorts of words, not even after months of dating. We weren’t flirting anymore, and I didn’t know the lines to this play. My mouth opened and closed and opened again, trying to form words that felt completely foreign.

“Trevor, I?—”

“It’s okay,” he cut me off. “I know you’re not ready. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have waited.”

“You should have kissed me first,” I choked out.

“I should’ve.” He tilted my chin up, his fingers warm against my skin. “Let’s fix that, eh?”