Page 109 of Saved By the CEO

“Mrs. Keeps is getting older,” Mom continues, “and she needs more help in the store. She asked me last week. Can you believe that? Me, working in a bookshop.”

My chest starts to feel strange. Lighter, maybe? Like a knot I’ve carried for years is finally loosening.

“Oh, Mom,” I say. “That sounds perfect.”

“It is. It really is. It looks almost exactly the same, Carly. The same shelves, the same little reading chair by the window, even the same ridiculous clock behind the register. I’ll spend my days around books instead of carrying plates until my feet go numb.” She laughs. “And the pay is good. Not BenCo good, obviously, but better than the diner. Steadier, too.”

I lean against the sink and let my eyes close for a second.

“That sounds dreamy,” I say.

“It is,” she says, airy and soft. “I think it’s going to be really good for me.”

I open my eyes. The woman in the mirror is a mess, but she’s smiling.

“Good,” I say. “You deserve dreamy.”

“So do you, honey.”

Andrew keeps glancing at me.

I pretend not to notice.

To be fair, the meeting has been going on for almost two hours, so I understand if his attention is starting to wander. Mine certainly is. Legal has spent the last twenty minutes explaining a revised approval process with the help of a flowchart that seems to become more complicated every time they click to the next slide.

Still, Andrew is nowhere near as subtle as he thinks he is.

I minimize the document where I’ve been taking notes and open our internal chat.

Carly Michaels: Do I have something on my face?

His phone lights up beside his hand. He glances at the screen, then at me, a faint line appearing between his eyebrows.

Andrew Bennett: No. Why?

Carly Michaels: You’re staring

One of his eyebrows lifts.

Andrew Bennett: I have to rest my eyes somewhere. It was between you and Paul from accounting

I look across the table at Paul, who is listening to the presentation with his chin tucked against his chest. From this angle, I have an excellent view of the back of his head and the losing battle his hairline has been fighting for the past decade.

Carly Michaels: Must have been a difficult choice. What settled it?

Andrew’s mouth twitches.

Andrew Bennett: Paul can’t do a Yoda impression

I press my lips together.

Carly Michaels: Honored, I am

Andrew lowers his head and covers his mouth with one hand, but not before I catch the smile. A proper one. It changes his entire face, softening it in a way I’m still not used to seeing.

My stomach does a small, embarrassing flip.

When Andrew looks up again, he catches me watching him. Neither of us looks away.