Wish I Might

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

WE HAVE HIGH HOPES for her, Cecil reported of his granddaughter.

Cecily picked up her wine and took another hefty swig as she continued to read the article. Her grandfather knew how to talk the talk. He’d never say anything to besmirch the family name, which meant pretending like The Incident had never happened, like Cecily hadn’t screwed up and cost them a small fortune, and as if she were still actually a contender for doing anything legitimate in the family empire.

Cecily knew better. She knew how to read between the lines of what her family never said and had banished herself before they were forced to sort out the best way to deal with her and the embarrassment she’d caused.

She’d never imagined she’d fall in love with the work she was doing. Or that she’d find an incredible freedom in leaving behind the family name and all its attendant pressures. She was happy in the life she was making for herself, even if that life was in transition.

Someday she’d prove herself. She’d make up for youthful mistakes. And then…well, then they’d see.

But someday wasn’t here yet and having this publicity out there threatened to undermine everything she’d accomplished. At least the author hadn’t unearthed details of The Incident. Or had been discouraged from printing them. None of her Google Alerts had popped to indicate that anybody else was regurgitating that mess again, so chances were, she was safe from anybody in the media sniffing out her current location.

She tossed the copy she was reading onto the small mountain of others littering their coffee table.

“What are you going to do with all of them?”

Cecily glanced at Christoff over the rim of her wineglass. “I have no idea. It’s chilly out. Maybe we’ll have a bonfire, roast some marshmallows. Make a few s’mores.”

“There are probably carcinogens in the ink or paper or something.”

“And there aren’t in the processed components of s’mores?”

“I feel less like graham crackers and Hershey bars are going to kill me.” He crossed over and flopped on the other end of the sofa. “So now what? Our recon mission was successful. Your secret, such as it is, is safe. And you got your flirt on with Reed without the world coming to an end.”

“I did not get my flirt on.”

Christoff lifted one sardonic brow. “Please.” He affected a higher pitched voice and batted his unreasonably long lashes. “‘Maybe you could channel some of your natural Steve Rogers and help a girl out?’ Lie to yourself, if you must, but don’t lie to me. I could practically smell the pheromones wafting off the two of you. You’re totally still into him. And despite your questionable ditching of him the last three months, he appears to be still into you.”

“And? It’s a moot point. I’m leaving.”

“So you keep saying. But I don’t know why you won’t let yourself have a little fun before you go.”

“I am not falling into bed with Reed Campbell just for a little fun,” Cecily protested.

Christoff’s mouth quirked into a wicked grin as he leaned toward her and stole a sip of her wine. “I never said anything about falling into bed with him. I see that lone kiss this summer has inspired all sorts of fantasies.”

It didn’t seem wise to mention she’d had the fantasies before the kiss. They’d just gotten infinitely hotter after. And so what? That’s all they’d ever be. Fantasies. Despite the undeniable attraction between them—alive and well, as Christoff had noted—she and Reed were fundamentally incompatible. If today’s bookstore mission had added a new variation to those unfulfilled fantasies that involved being trapped between that long, hard body of his and a bookcase, well, that was the price she’d have to pay for keeping her secret.

Cecily snatched the glass away and shoved him back with one foot. “You’re reminding me why I prefer to live alone.”

“With your denial. And without my very excellent falafels.”

He really did make amazing falafels. “My denial is perfectly happy with take out.”

“It’s because it’s been so long, hasn’t it? I mean, the closest thing you’ve had to a relationship since The Incident is making it to dessert after dinner. How long has it been since you’ve had any action?”

Cecily winced.

Christoff straightened. “Please tell me that Tony-award worthy performance with Pierce wasn’t the closest you’ve gotten.”

When Norah had been fired from Helios and blackballed by the firm, Cecily and Christoff had concocted an insane plan for Cecily to pretend to seduce Norah’s ex—son of the head of the firm—in order to get his admission on camera that Norah hadn’t actually done any of the things she’d been accused of. It had worked. Norah had gotten her reputation back and both Cecily and Christoff had turned in their letters of resignation before making the trek to Mississippi to deliver the news in person to the best boss they’d ever had. That they fell into work here had just been icing on the cake.

“Darling, that’s beyond sad.”

Cecily shrugged. “Precedence indicates I have crap judgment in men.” It was hard to trust anybody without wondering what they wanted to use her—or her family or money—for.

“So, you had a bad experience. Did it ever occur to you that you’re just as crappy at recognizing the good ones as you are at failing to recognize the bad?”

“Should I take this as a renewal of your campaign for me to let you run my love life?”

Christoff had been on and off that train since high school.

“Which one of us is blissfully happy right now?”

“Oh please. You found Daniel by sheer, dumb luck. It had nothing to do with your being a superior judge of character or having any kind of woo woo matchmaker skills.”

“I like to think it was Fate. If not for you, I’d never have come to Mississippi in the first place, and I certainly wouldn’t have stayed. I’m just saying that if you won’t trust your own judgment, trust mine. You’re wrong about Reed.”

“So you’ve been saying for three months. And why does it even matter, Chris? I’m leaving. The job is over.”

“If you’re so set on leaving, then why have you been so precious and picky about where to go next? You’ve had offers. Decent ones. And you’ve turned them down.”

Because I’m holding out for a position worthy of a Davenport.

“I’m being picky because I can afford to be. I’m not out to be a cog in a machine somewhere. I’m out to make a mark.”

Christoff just shook his head. “Must be lonely up there on that high horse.”

Cecily bristled. “I’m not up on a high horse. I’m just—”

“Trying to live up to the expectations you’ve ascribed to your family, even though you’ve more or less cut yourself off from all of them.” He shoved up and headed for the kitchen. “You need to make a choice, sweetie. Be a Davenport or be normal. Because this whole in between thing you’ve been rocking the last few years isn’t working for you.”

He wasn’t wrong. But there had to be some kind of middle ground. She’d been trying to walk that line without much success. And it was lonely. Because no matter what she did to distance herself from her origins, at the heart of it, she’d always be a Davenport, and she’d always wonder if anybody would be able to see her as just Cecily.