Page 81 of You Fall First

“I still want you to feel good about the campaign, though.”

I let out a small chuckle. “Well, that might be too big an ask. But …” I let my voice trail off, ducking my head.

“But you won’t object?”

“What can I say?” I splay my hands. “Marketing isn’t my purview. You’re the boss. You know what’s best. I’ll trust you.”

“Glad to hear it,” she says, straightening.

“So is there anything else you need from me, then?”

“I think we’re good. Thanks, Noah.”

“Sure,” I say, rising from the chair.

Okay, maybe not so sure.

Still, I gave up my right to protest any of this when I blew off Maureen’s request to look over the footage. And I’m not about to question a woman whose literal job it is to promote Havenwood.

I’m halfway to my office when my phone buzzes. If I said my heart didn’t skip a beat hoping for a text from Jo, I’d be lying.

And my heart gets what it wants, this time.

Jo

Dutton and I are going to attend the rehearsal dinner like this. Thoughts?

Accompanying the message is a close-up of Dutton and Jo mugging for the camera with donuts. He’s dressed as Buzz Lightyear, and she’s got a ring of cinnamon and sugar around her lips. Both her dimples are on full display, and I shake my head, chuckling.

Me

Halloween costumes and donuts are the new black.

Jo

Perfect. That’s what I’ll tell Landry if she objects to her bridesmaid showing up covered in sugar. What are YOU going to wear?

Me

Come on. I can’t compete with my favorite nephew and his favorite caregiver. You two will be the best-looking pair at the party.

Jo

Stop. You say that to all the ladies covered in donuts. PS: I also have a syrup stain in a spot I can’t share.

The way my pulse ticks up, imagining what part of her body she’s talking about, is problematic. And yet, as terrible as I know the instinct is, I duck into my office to take my own selfie. On the desk is a bouquet of yellow roses the PR team sent to thank me for my cooperation. Gotta admit, I laughed at the gesture. As if I need flowers.

I’d been planning to give them to Maureen, but they come in handy now. I shut the window blinds so no one else can witness what I’m about to do. Then I shove my Ray-Bans on, pluck a rose from the vase, and clamp the long stem with my teeth.

Before I can think better of it, I take a pic for Jo and type out a text:

Me

Think Brock will regret inviting this guy?

Hitting send is perhaps the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. Let’s be real. Acting ridiculous isn’t generally something I have time for. Dex is usually the clown. Bridger’s the one actively reining him in. Meanwhile, I’m the guy in the background pretending I don’t know either of them.

But today, in this moment, and possibly for the first time in years, I’m having fun.