Born to Make You Smile

SEVENTEEN

On Monday morning, my gut was so twisted in knots I couldn’t eat breakfast. How was I going to face Gavin after what happened?

That kiss.

I let out a groan and glanced at the time, realizing it was after seven thirty in the morning. Gavin was never this late to pick me up for work. Suddenly, I worried that he wouldn’t pick me up at all. That the kiss ruined everything. Our friendship. Our work relationship. All tarnished now.

Then my phone beeped.

Gavin: Here.

His cold text lacked emotion and his signature flair. I imagined it was a taste of things to come.

When I slipped into the car, instead of his usual upbeat disco music, I was met with the low-droning murmurs of talk radio.

“Morning.” I pushed out a smile as I sat down in the car, trying to act natural.

His glorious scent initiated a wave of goose bumps over my skin, and I shifted my body as far away from him as possible.

I quickly looked him over. His complexion appeared pale, and his hair was messy as if he’d just rolled out of bed. The glasses on his face barely hid his sunken eyes.

“Terribly sorry I'm late,” he said hurriedly without even a glance at me. “We'd better mosey along.”

He didn’t speak to me for the rest of the drive. Not one word. The silence had become so thick and painful, I almost wished I’d driven myself. Even worse, for the first time in over two years, we’d skipped our G-Force gesture. Something I took for granted and thought silly was actually immeasurably precious to me. The special friendship we shared slipped through our fingertips like falling sand.

One stupid kiss had changed everything between us. The kiss was a mistake, and we had to find a way to move on. I desperately needed things to return to how they used to be. If only I could forget how incredible his lips felt on mine.

The day at work was tense, both of us appearing to put on an act to maintain a sense of normalcy. He’d smile at me, but I could spot a forced smile from him a mile away.

On the drive home, things were a bit better. We shared pleasantries about the timing of the flight and the convention. But to be honest, our interactions felt robotic.

We pulled into my driveway, and Gavin turned off the radio.

“I can’t take this, Grace,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Today has been absolute torture.”

I closed my eyes and sighed. “I know.”

“I feel like we’re losing ourselves after what happened over the weekend. And it breaks my heart. You’re so important to me. And I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

“You won’t lose me,” I maintained, pressing my lips together. “It was just a kiss between friends. Friends can share an innocent kiss. Especially when there’s no chemistry or spark.”

“You didn’t feel a spark?” he asked. His expression appeared confused, with a flicker of disappointment.

“No, nothing.” A surge of electricity flowed through me as I lied through my teeth. I shook my head and prayed I was convincing. “I’ve known you almost my whole life. To be honest, it was kind of weird.”

He stared at me blankly, then licked his lips. I wanted those lips on me so badly. I wanted to say fuck it and jump across the console to devour him. But I suppressed my urges and sat firm.

“Yes. I agree. Very weird.” He tapped the steering wheel with his fingers, then slapped his leg. “Ahh, good. I’m so glad we’re on the same page. Thank God!”

I wondered if he was denying his feelings as well, for the sake of our relationship.

Just as I was about to leave the car, he held out his fist, and I pushed mine against his three times with a steady final grind.

“G?” he said, raising his brows.

I attempted a smile. “Force.”

***

On Friday at eight in the morning, the limo arrived to pick us up for the airport. Gavin greeted me at my door. While we weren’t quite back to normal, things were better than they were on Monday. We were seemingly able to put the kiss and everything else behind us, assured that it was a mistake and meant nothing. In moments of weakness, I’d think of my mother. The house. The girls. And it usually set my priorities back in line.

We sat in the back seat together, mostly silent, periodically looking over at each other with a smile. He looked polished and handsome. Slightly different. I tried to figure out what it was, then it hit me.

“I like your haircut,” I said with a nod, staring at him. His hair looked good, cut a little shorter and neater but still full of volume.

“Thank you, love.” He raked his hand through the styled strands with a proud grin.

I bit my lip. A vision of my own hands in his hair swept over me, imagining if it would feel as soft and silky as it looked. I diverted my focus to the window, studying the passing trees on Yonge Street like I’d have to describe them in perfect detail from memory afterward.

As soon as I set foot on the plane, the walls of the confined space felt like they were closing in on me. Gavin and I sat beside each other in business class. I began to fidget and rub my hands together, shifting in my seat, undoing the clip holding my hair. Putting it up again, then repeating the motion over and over.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I wasn’t a great flier. While I’d been on many flights before, all of them were with my mother. She’d hold my hand at takeoff and landing and during those really turbulent moments that made my stomach do somersaults. But now, without her, I wasn’t sure how to cope. I’d have to try my best to be brave and show Gavin I wasn’t some sort of helpless child.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

I managed to stay calm until the plane started to move. Taking deep breaths, I held my fists together, rocking my body and wishing the flight was over.

“Here,” he said, handing me one of his earbuds. “This might help. I’m not great with takeoffs or landings either.”

The sound of The Weather Girls' “It's Raining Men” blasted into my left ear.

I shook my head with a chuckle and closed my eyes. “Thanks.”

He gripped my hand tightly as the plane began to take off. A rush of warm flutters moved through my body at our contact, taking my mind off the jarring motions of the plane.

Gavin always made me feel protected and safe—like nothing in the world could harm me.

We landed in Ottawa and checked into the hotel. Our suites were just down the hall from each other. My elegant room was modern, with a king-sized bed, a small kitchenette, a desk, a loveseat, and a huge TV. While I was grateful for the experience, deep down, I felt spoiled, as if I didn’t deserve to be in a room so extravagant. It was a room I would have booked for Gavin but never for myself.

Our plan was to spend a few hours at the convention, find a digital radiography system, and peruse the grounds. We’d go back to our rooms to freshen up, then grab dinner. Gavin told me he’d made reservations at a French restaurant nearby. It occurred to me I had never really been out to dinner with Gavin. Just him. Especially not at a fancy restaurant. I worried it would feel romantic.

It is not a date. I had to remind myself over and over again. It was a professional business dinner between a boss and his assistant.

When we arrived at the convention, we signed in and received lanyards with our names and occupations on them. It seemed Gavin knew almost everyone, saying hello and conversing with most people we met. We walked around and gathered information about new sealant and composite products on the market. We watched demos and got information about several digital radiography systems. I was sure to grab as many samples as I could manage to fit into our bags. I felt like a kid in a gumball factory who just had her braces removed. I snagged us some fluoride varnish, polishing cups, applicator brushes, syringe tips, dental dams, and retraction cords. I even won a high-end burnisher instrument for being the first out of a group to answer a trivia question: What is the space between the lateral incisors and canine in maxillary primary dentition?

“Primate space!” I shouted.

“Wow,” Gavin said with a proud nod. “I’m impressed, love.”

Pride enveloped me like a warm blanket.

We continued to walk, then Gavin pointed at some people standing in a crowd. “It’s Dr. Paul Southerland.”

“Who?” I asked.

“He’s a well-known orthodontist with several practices in and around the city. I know him from way back when.”

My mouth dropped with surprise as I caught sight of the elegant and striking dark-haired dentist dressed in what looked to be an expensive tailored gray suit. He stood chatting enthusiastically in a group of mostly women.

We walked up to Dr. Paul Southerland, who greeted us with a beaming smile.

“Dr. Brinley, hello, hello,” he said.

“Dr. Southerland, fancy meeting you here,” Gavin said with a handshake, then he turned to me. “Paul, this is my assistant, Grace.”

Paul shook my hand, then introduced us to the two unbelievably attractive women by his side. I felt my cheeks blush. The three of them could have passed as movie stars.

“How are the girls?” Paul asked Gavin. They proceeded to have some small talk about their kids. Paul was married with two young boys.

“What time is your presentation tomorrow?” Gavin asked him.

Paul rubbed a finger on his clean-shaven chin. "Two forty-five."

“Wonderful, we’ll be there,” Gavin said, then whispered to me. “Paul has extensively researched orthodontic treatment for children with cleft lip and palate."

“Oh wow," I said with a nod, my eyes wide with awe.

“Well, Gavin, I gotta run. It was very nice to meet you, Grace.” Paul’s stunning blue eyes burned into mine as he stared at me intently. “I hope to see you again very soon .”

His words were forward, perhaps a little suggestive, but I brushed them off. The man was married, after all.

“He seemed nice,” I said as we walked away. “Very handsome.”

Gavin shook his head and rolled his eyes, then leaned in and whispered, “Yes, well, in my opinion, a little too handsome for his own good.”

I chuckled at his jealous tone. “What do you mean?”

His heated breath grazed my ear, causing my neck to warm. “While I respect the man on a professional level and appreciate everything he does in the field, he's got a bit of a reputation. It's very hush-hush, but let's just say he goes through his assistants and hygienists rather quickly. If you catch my drift.”

“Oh, I see,” I said quietly. “But isn’t he married, with two boys?”

He nodded with a shrug, and I got the hint loud and clear.

***

That evening, I was smoothing on some lip gloss when there was a knock on my hotel door. When I opened it, I just about toppled over.

Wow . Gavin looked incredible.

His black-and-silver hair was effortlessly styled, begging to be touched, and without his glasses, his emerald eyes were mesmerizing. He wore a black dress shirt and pants with a sharp gray-patterned blazer. The entire outfit was modern and classic, impeccably tailored to his body.

I’d never seen him look so striking and gorgeous. I had to press my lips together to keep my jaw from falling to the floor.

His hooded eyes swept over me, sending a bolt through my body. “Grace, you look exceptional.”

“Thanks.”

I looked nice, professional, and not overly sexy. I was in stretchy black pants and a ruffled blue blouse. I applied minimal makeup and styled my curly hair down. I had the urge to show him more. What would he do if I stripped naked before him right now? Would he reject me? Would he take me in and then devour me?

My heart beat picked up, and I closed my eyes to contain my wayward thoughts.

“Are you all right?” he asked. I looked up, his face drawn with concern.

“Um. Yeah.” I nodded a bit nervously, then moved to let him in. “You look very nice, too. Very dashing.”

Too damn dashing.

He pulled out a small bottle of champagne from the paper bag he was holding. “We have a bit of time before dinner. Thought we could enjoy a glass or two before we head out.”

I nodded, still trying to get over this whole new version of Gavin before me. “Sure.”

He stepped inside, and his enticing scent saturated the room, making my knees weak. He removed his blazer and carefully draped it over the desk chair. Then, with a pop , he opened up the bottle of champagne, filled two flutes, and we sat down on the loveseat. Something about champagne felt dangerous. Sexy. Romantic. I could sense my inhibitions lowering with each passing moment, each sip of the delicious bubbles coating my mouth.

The alcohol loosened us up, and we began chatting about his daughters. He told me how he’d dropped them off at his sister and brother-in-law’s house in Ancaster.

“I drove past McMaster, where I did my undergrad. All the memories came flooding back. I can’t believe it’s been twenty-four years since I’ve graduated. Those were good times. Simpler times.”

I nodded as I took a sip of champagne, trying to comprehend the fact that I wasn’t even born when he received his undergraduate degree.

“Were the girls excited to spend time with their auntie and uncle?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. The girls love it there. Lorraine and Colin have an indoor pool, and they just go mad.”

“That’s wonderful.”

I was pleased that the girls had that kind of strong family connection. Besides my mom’s cousin Sonja in Orillia and my absentee father, wherever he was, I had no known living relatives.

“A little more?” He grabbed the champagne bottle and held it above my glass.

“Just a bit.”

As he poured, the foam peeked above the glass before it settled comfortably.

“Grace. I have a confession to make.” He stared at me intensely.

My pulse picked up, unsure of what he was about to confess.

“I have something that belongs to you,” he admitted. “Something very special and important.”

He stood and reached into the brown bag he’d come in with, pulling out my poetry book.

Holy shit.

I had a generous gulp of champagne, then put the glass on the small wooden table in front of me.

“Where did you find it?” I said, the words barely managing to escape.

“In my car. A few days ago, I was doing some interior cleaning, and it was wedged under the passenger seat. I should have told you...but well, anyhow, I assume you must have been looking for it.”

I nodded slowly, running my eyes over his face, trying to gather any sort of hint that he’d read the poems. “Yes. I searched everywhere. I thought it was lost forever.”

He handed me the book, and I rubbed my fingers over the smooth leather, hoping it would somehow calm my nerves.

“You know,” he said, scratching his temple. “I really enjoyed your poetry.”

My stomach dropped. He’d read the poems. Oh my God. He definitely knew I wrote poems about him. Really personal poems.

I couldn't help but cringe. “You read them?”

“I did. Every single one.” He shifted in his seat, a guilt-ridden expression on his face, then put his glass on the table next to mine. “I know I shouldn't have invaded your privacy, but I couldn't help myself.”

I wanted to hide. Lock myself in the bathroom and never come out.

“But tell me.” He leaned in closer, and my heart picked up. “What is the meaning of them?”

I swallowed nervously. “Meaning of them?”

“Well. Where do you get your ideas? What inspires you?”

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the air pushing out of my lungs. My face went beet red as I tried to figure out the words to say. “My past. My hopes. My dreams.”

“I see,” he said, drawing the words out slowly. “There was one poem in particular that caught my attention. Perhaps you could read it aloud for me.”

I blinked, processing his words. “Which one?”

“Lust,” he stated, a fiery glimmer in his eyes.

My body shifted with discomfort.

Of all the poems to read for him. “I don’t know if I can—”

“Please. Read it, Grace.”

Not a request. A command.

God . I’d do anything he told me to if he continued to use that deep and growly voice. I’d eat the pages of the book if he ordered me to.

Inhaling a deep, steady breath, I opened the book and read my poem aloud.