Page 39 of Fifth Avenue Flirt

“In a way, I suppose it is. You’re right, I want people to like me. It’s important in my job that people trust me, and people trust someone when they like them.”

“How can people tell if you really like them back, or if you’re just being nice because you want them to like you?”

“It’s my turn to ask a question,” I reply.

“This is a follow-up.”

“We didn’t agree to have follow-ups.”

“We didn’t agree not to have follow-ups.”

Words stop skating across the roof as I think about her question.

“I hope people don’t make any distinction,” I answer truthfully. “But also, I think there’s something to like in most people. So my complete answer would be that although I might not want to spend the holidays with most of the people I know, there’s usually something I like or admire in everyone I’m nice to.”

More silence.

“Your turn,” she says.

Does that mean she’s satisfied with my answer? Does she hate what I’ve said? Jesus, I don’t know why I’m questioning myself so much around this woman? She’s making me agree to things, confess to things, rescue kittens—none of which was on my agenda for today.

I pull out a triangle from my pocket and unwrap it. I wince when I read the question. It feels wrong.

“You’re making me nervous,” Avril whispers from the other side of the arch. “Just ask me whatever it is you had.”

“Have you ever been in love before?” I say, before I can talk myself out of it.

“I don’t think so. You?”

“Is that your third question?” I ask.

“You’re a stickler, Ben East. You need to lighten up.”

I roll my eyes. “No, I’ve never been in love.” I’m more certain than she is. I’ve deliberately kept my connections in New York…light. It’s easier that way. My expectations are managed and I’m not disappointing anyone. It works. I’ve not even come close to being in love.

“So it’s my turn again,” I say.

Someone opening the locks on the Oyster Bar pulls our focus.

“My stomach is growling, in case that sound didn’t travel,” she says.

I ignore her. “Why is Boston so important to you?” I ask.

“I’ve told you. I want to prove myself.”

“But there are other ways.”

“Right, but Poppy and Worth are so cerebral. So binary. I’ve never seen Worth so proud as when I told him I was going to study economics at Columbia. He understands that. So if Boston is a success, and I’m the person who’s been responsible for the entire thing, that will be demonstratable to them. And they’ll know I was the reason.”

My mind starts ticking away. Whether or not Boston comes off, there must be another way to quench Avril’s thirst to be taken seriously by her siblings. She’s going to spend her entire life on a plane or a train from here to Boston just to prove a point. It seems like madness to me.

“Have you thought about not working with Worth and Poppy? Doing something on your own?”

“Absolutely not. I love working with them. We’ve been through a lot together and the hotel is something positive that binds us, rather than it just being about blood or tragedy.”

My stomach drops to the floor. Being bound by tragedy. The truth and pain of that hits deep in my chest. I know that feeling. Bray and I are so deeply connected because of what we went through as children that sometimes just seeing him can stir things up in me that I thought were long buried. Things I want to stay there.

“I get that,” I say.