Page 36 of Making It While Faking It
He moves to the door, which I can now see opens automatically. However, Achilles stands against the glass to make sure I enter before he does.
“Thank you,” I say evenly, as if walking past him doesn’t make my blood tickle my heart.
Then he places a large hand on the small of my back and says, “This way.”
My knees nearly buckle from whatever powers of attraction he has over me. But I have to get a grip. I have to remind myself that I’m not one of those girls who fucks simply because she’s attracted to a guy.Personality makes you horny, Treas.I keep telling myself that fib as we both cram ourselves into a tiny elevator.
We’requiet and both are watching the numbers on the panel above the door count up. I should say something to him.
“You look nice today,” he says before I can speak.
I know I look nice today. I had him in mind when I slipped into a gold slinky midi dress that has a V-neckline that displays just enough cleavage to make him do a double take. I’m also wearing black patent-leather Mary Jane heels. I’m surprised he noticed, because his eyes haven’t veered below my face, not once.
“Thank you,” I say, still staring at the numbers. “Oh, and Majorca, huh?” I smile.
“I’m sure we had a ball,” he says.
My eyebrows flash up as I cock my head to look at him in surprise. “Touché to Achilles Lord with a sense of humor.” Then he frowns again. “I take that back.”
Ding.
The elevator stops, and the doors slide open. Again, he stands against the frame to make sure I walk out before he does. This time, I don’t say thank you, even though I want to. For some reason, I’m too embarrassed to say anything to him, and it makes no sense at all. He’s the sourpuss who killed the mood, and now I’m embarrassed to say thank you? I can’t make sense of it as I walk slightly behind him down a tight hallway with dark-green square-patterned carpet with little yellow flowers here and there.
The intimacy of this walk is driving me crazy. I can’t wait until we part ways. Orarewe going to part ways? I’m not going back to the restaurant after this session. I’m going home. I wonder if he’s going home too.
We stop, and I keep my eyes on Achilles’s hand and not his face as he presses a lit button next to a dark wooden door. I can’t hear the bell ring behind the wood, but not even two seconds pass before the door opens, and we’re greeted by a petite, elderly woman with curly red hair and the spritely energy of someone probably half her age.
The relationship expert’s name is Sophie Brandt, and she has keen eyes that seem to not miss a thing. It’s as if she’s assessing us as she offers us water, noticing how far away we’re standing from each other. It’s like her brain is constantly taking notes.
I say I want water, and Achilles doesn’t. Once we’re seated, Dr. Brandt’s assistant hands me a bottle.
“Treasure.” She says my name like she’s spoken it all her life. “Please tell Achilles what makes you happy.”
I stiffen as I gape at the tiny woman’s face. I hadn’t expected that to be the first question she’d ask. I thought she would spend a little more time breaking the ice, but nope. She’s getting right down to it.
“What makes me happy?” I repeat.
She sits back in her chair and interlocks her fingers atop her lap. “Yes.”
I can feel his eyes on me, and I want to melt into the burnt-orange leather sofa that we are sitting on.
“I don’t know,” I say, wanting to fan the flush out of my cheeks. Why in the world am I so discombobulated by this question?
Surely sensing my discomfort, Dr. Brandt says, “I’ll help you. Close your eyes.”
I’m still looking at her when she nods, ensuring me that she’s leading me down the right path.
I close my eyes, and she asks me to inhale deeply. I do that too.
“After you slowly release your breath, speak the answer to what makes you happy.”
I inhale, and after releasing my breath, I actually have clarity. “My friends make me happy. And so does my cousin Paisley. I guess good people make me happy.” I open my eyes, and she points to Achilles. Oh, I’m supposed to tell him.
The way he’s peering at me makes my stomach flutter and heart dance. But I do not show that he’s having this effect on me.
“Good people who are nice, kind, and I like them and they like me,” I say, staring into his gorgeous eyes.Unlike you.
“And you, Achilles?” Dr. Brandt’s voice is soft and encouraging.
