13. Chapter 13
Benson
This isn’t happening.
This can’t be happening.
Because if that’s Avery standing there with wide, horrified eyes, then the sudden fire in my chest is proof that I didn’t shut the door on everything that happened in Italy as firmly as I was supposed to.
If that’s Avery, I thoroughly kissed my friend’s ex-fiancée.
Many times. If that’s Avery, she is now, if only temporarily, my boss .
Crap.
Eric clears his throat. “Avie? You good?”
She blinks, glancing at him only briefly before dropping down and picking up the bagel which, unfortunately, landed smear-side down and left a blob of cream cheese on the industrial carpet.
When she straightens back up and tosses the bagel in the trash, her expression is more guarded than it was a second ago. “Um. Hi.”
I need to say something. Eric is staring at me, Avery has turned so pale that she might pass out, and my heart is thundering in my chest like I just ran a half-marathon. My brain is full of a sort of whooshing sound that is making it impossible to think clearly.
Focus on the job . It’s what I always do, and it might be the only thing to save me from turning this whole thing into a complete disaster.
“Hey,” I say and hold out my hand. “Benson West. It’s nice to meet you.”
That was the wrong move. Avery’s eyebrows drop low as her expression shifts from shock to hurt to anger in rapid succession while she takes hold of my hand.
Her skin is warm and soft, exactly how I remember it, and I catch a hint of her intoxicating peach scent that makes my whole body sizzle with memories of our last night in Italy.
Instinct tells me to pivot and pull her in for a hug, maybe a kiss, because I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since leaving her side at the hotel, but I resist.
There’s a time and place for casual make-outs, and this is not it.
“So nice to finally meet you,” Avery says, her tone sharp. She’s still holding my hand, and it feels like she’s trying to squeeze as hard as she can. “ Mr. Greer has spoken so highly of you.”
Eric’s expression hardens when she uses his last name, though he’s the one who did it first. All morning, he’s been talking about his pragmatic partner, Ms. Baldwin, and I was imagining a straitlaced woman in her mid-forties.
Not the spunky and adventurous woman I spent a week in Italy with.
Either Eric has no idea who he was going to marry, or there’s more to Avery’s past than losing her courage to break free.
“Uh.” Eric clears his throat. “Avery, if you’re ready, why don’t you give Sonny a rundown of our current marketing strategy?”
She just got here , I want to say. Of course she’s not ready.
But Avery nods, pulling the only empty chair to the side of Eric’s desk rather than next to me. She digs a laptop out of her bag and sets it on the desk. “What would you like me to call you?” she asks without looking at me. “Benson, Mr. West, or Sonny?”
Eric’s the only person aside from my family who calls me Sonny anymore, and I asked him to call me Benson when I showed up at the office this morning.
But he’s not a guy who does well with losing old habits, which makes me curious about his reference to Avery by her last name.
He called her that in all his emails too, so has he always called his fiancée Ms. Baldwin?
Like, did he go around introducing her to his family and friends that way?
Super romantic, dude.
“Benson is great,” I say, reminding myself that I have no say in any of Eric’s relationships. Especially not this one. “And you?”
That earns me a glance. I got into the habit of using both Avery’s first and middle name while we were in Florence, and she seemed to like it. But her pained glare makes me think I won’t be allowed that liberty here. “Avery is fine,” she says, typing in the password on her computer.
When it boots up, she turns the laptop so I can see and pulls up a basic PowerPoint, which makes me internally groan.
I knew I had my work cut out for me when I accepted Eric’s offer, but knowing Avery is the other half of the Rose & Quill duo, I’m sensing things are worse than I anticipated.
It’s nothing against Avery—I don’t know her very well—but I do know Eric.
Catching up with him for a few minutes this morning was enough to tell me he’s the same guy I knew in college, which means he is exclusively by-the-book and rarely thinks outside the box, if ever.
And the Avery I first met, the one who had planned to marry Eric Greer, can’t possibly be the kind of person who might push the boundaries of his boxes and take some risks to make their company shine.
In the time since she walked into the office, she has lost some of the vibrancy that bloomed last week, like Eric is some life-sucking leech. He’s a good guy—always has been—but there’s no way he was ever right for Avery.
Avery starts going through the presentation, but I barely listen as she lists out a few different ideas she and Eric have had to boost their company.
Normally, I try to incorporate as much of my clients’ input as I can because authenticity is so invaluable when it comes to marketing and building a brand.
But Avery isn’t exactly being authentic right now.
She is muted and monotone, constantly looking at Eric though he’s scrolling through something on his computer and paying about as much attention as I am.
I’m going to guess these were all his ideas.
“What else do you have?” I ask as soon as Avery hits the end of the presentation.
My question surprises both co-owners. Avery’s mouth slips open, and Eric looks over at me with his eyebrows pulled low.
“Else?” Avery asks at the same time Eric says, “Those are the optimal strategies.”
I hold back a laugh and decide to focus on Eric first, since he seems to be the stronger voice in this partnership.
“And they’re great.” I have no idea if they’re great because I was too busy staring at Avery rather than listening to the strategies she was laying out.
I look at her again now, wishing she didn’t look so guarded.
“But it’s a good idea to throw out any and all ideas, no matter how unconventional. ”
She takes a breath and opens her mouth.
“We went through dozens of ideas before we landed on these,” Eric says. “I know you’re the expert here, Sonny, but you haven’t worked with anyone in publishing before, so this is kind of new to you.”
Technically, I helped revive a dying magazine last year and turn it into a thriving blog, but I keep that to myself.
One of the reasons I came here was to revive my friendship with Eric, and I won’t be able to do that if I push against him at every turn.
Even if we didn’t always see eye to eye, he was like family to me when we were younger and I felt alienated from my real family.
He was there for me when no one else was and is the single reason I got my degree. I owe him a lot.
My stomach twists as my mind flashes back to the way I acted with Avery last week. It would be great if Eric never finds out about any of that.
Avery glances between Eric and me, hardly confident in her expression and posture, but this time she speaks up. “What if—”
“Oh, I should take this,” Eric says, holding up his phone as he stands. “Avie, why don’t you go into some more detail on that first plan.”
The instant he’s out of the room, Avery and I talk at the same time.
“Why are you here?”
“Is he always like that?”
Avery huffs and folds her arms. I wonder if she realizes her shirt is on backwards or if that was a deliberate choice. “Do you make a habit of gaslighting people? Or are you an evil twin?”
Chuckling, I fold my arms to match her. The real Avery is back now that Eric is gone, though gaslighting is a bit strong of a word. “Why would my twin be evil?”
“He wouldn’t because you’re the evil one.”
“Do all sets of twins have an evil half and a good half? I don’t have a twin, by the way.”
She groans, tugging on the two wet braids hanging over her shoulders. “Why did you pretend not to know me, Benson?”
I wish that question was easy to answer. “Because we agreed to anonymity,” I reply, even if it’s not the right thing to say.
She grits her teeth, letting her eyes rove over me as if she’s still wondering if I have a doppelganger out there somewhere. “What’s the point of anonymity when I already know you?” she asks eventually.
I shake my head. “You know what I showed you in Italy.” Which, to be fair, was pretty much the whole me. I don’t often hide behind masks, particularly when it comes to dating.
Snorting an unamused laugh, Avery stands and plants her hands on the desk so she can look down at me as she speaks.
“You graduated from the University of Utah twelve years ago and lived in an old house in the Avenues and once gift-wrapped everything Eric owned because you thought he was being too uptight during finals week.”
Ah. “You know all that?”
“Eric has talked about you a lot.”
“So you knew who I was the whole time.” Was I a complete idiot, thinking I had found the perfect moment to let go of my past and just be me?
“Well, no.” She softens, grabbing one of her braids again.
“I’ve only seen a few pictures of you, and they were from your college years.
You don’t exactly look the same.” Then her eyes go wide, and she points at me.
“But you! You had my phone for two days straight, and you didn’t put the pieces together? ”
“I thought I was respecting your privacy by not reading any of the texts from ‘Colonel Buzzkill.’” I put the nickname in air quotes. “Does Eric know that’s what he’s listed as in your phone?”
“What about all the emails from Rose & Quill?” she asks, skipping over my question.