Crush - Kelsie Rae Page 0,32

I click on a file labeled B-e-a-utiful on my desktop then stand up. “Here. Just push the left or right arrow button on the keyboard, and you can scroll through them. I’m going to go order some food or something. What sounds good to you? Pizza? Chinese? Uh…anything?”

“You don’t have to––”

“Nope. I gotta pee too. You know how those babies are, right? I mean, not literally since you’ve never been pregnant but––”

“Marcy––”

“Pizza. I want pizza. Any toppings you’re not a fan of?”

“Uh….” He pauses to let his brain catch up and process my word vomit. “No pineapple, I guess?”

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” I tease, walking toward the door that leads to the hallway. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Then I book it out of the room like a bat out of hell while knowing that I sounded––and looked––like a complete lunatic.

Kill me. Kill me now.

It’s been an hour. The pizza is cold. I told him when it arrived, but he told me he’d heat it up in a bit. Now, I’m pacing in the front room, wondering what the hell is taking him so long, and if my work is so bad that he can’t even face me after analyzing it. Maybe he’s so embarrassed to tell me the pictures suck that he’ll never come out? Should I just leave and tell him to lock the door when he sneaks out of here so that he doesn’t have to face me? I mean––

“Marcy!”

I jump, then cringe as I shout back, “Yeah?”

“Can you come here for a sec?”

My shoulders hunch as I drag my feet down the hall as if I’ve been called to the principal’s office. Hovering by the door, I mutter, “Yeah?”

“Come here,” he repeats before patting the yellow armchair beside him.

My lungs refuse to work as I inch around the desk then sit on the edge of the seat.

“This one.” He raises his chin to my computer screen.

I follow his gaze before snapping my attention back to my hands in my lap. “What about it?”

“Where was it taken?”

I don’t need to study it for long. In fact, with another quick glance, I can confirm it’s one of my favorites. “Zion National Park.”

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, keeping his gaze glued to the screen.

“You’ve been?”

“Yeah. It was one of the last places Kate and I traveled to before the accident.” His voice is laced with a sharp pain that feels like it’s my own. I don’t know what to say.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” He studies the picture more closely. “I’d forgotten how amazing the views were.”

“It’s beautiful there.”

“It is. When was this taken?”

“Last year.”

He nods, letting my response marinate in the silent room, though I’m not really sure why the date matters so much to him.

“Every memory I shared with Kate was tainted when she died. It was like a heavy storm cloud was placed on top of them. But this….” He sniffs. “This reminds me how beautiful and vibrant the world is. I think I’d forgotten.”

My heart breaks as I watch this strong man open up to me. Glassy eyes. Broken voice. All of it.

Leaning forward, I search through all my files and find the rest of the images from the Zion trip before opening them into a slideshow. Then I press play.

There isn’t anything I can say to take away his pain, and he wouldn’t want me to, anyway. That’s okay. Resting the side of my head on his shoulder, I let us both soak up the beauty that’s still surrounding us in this world, even though Kate isn’t in it anymore.

And what shocks me the most?

He lets me.

He lets me share this moment. The beauty. The pain. The memories. The silence. The knowledge that even though she’s gone, the world continues to spin. To change. To adapt. And we only have one choice. Do we adapt with it? Or do we get lost in the past?

I’m not sure how much time goes by, or how many times I've seen the same images flash across my monitor before Ben’s deep voice rumbles beside me.

“Let’s do the blooper one.”

“What?” My neck is a little sore as I raise my head and look over at him.

“For the calendar. I think the blooper one sounds good. Or the style with the little girl in the tutu thing. Something bright. Unless you don’t think so?”

I blink and take a second to turn on my business brain.

The photo shoot. Right.

“I think both