Chronicles of a Lincoln Park Fashionista (18 page)

“Congratulations, Avery,” Craig says, smiling at me. “Well done.” Then he turns back to the group. “And with that said, let’s break for lunch. I expect everyone back here at 1:30 sharp.”

People suddenly start coming up to talk to me. And as I’m being congratulated on my idea, my head is dizzy with happiness and an overwhelming sense of achievement. This incredible buzz, this energy I’m feeling inside—is something I never thought I could feel from working.

And as people are talking to me, I realize they don’t see me as a mindless fashionista searching for a husband. They see me as an
equal
. They see me as someone who has brains, as an employee who has something to offer the marketing world of Premier Airlines. And as I realize this, my heart soars inside my chest.

But even as people are talking to me and asking me questions, there’s only one person that I’m absolutely desperate to talk to.

Deke.

I glance over at him from across the room. He has the camera turned on me, still shooting and capturing the biggest moment of my new career on video. The second my eyes lock with his, he flashes me a smile. And my spine tingles with warmth as I notice his eyes have crinkled up in the corners.

“Avery, I’m really looking forward to working with you,” Eileen McDonald, the director of Airport and In-Flight merchandising, says, commanding my attention away from Deke. “I’m in town all next week, so let me know when you want to meet with provisioning to get started.”

“I will,” I say excitedly, already wanting to dig in on my first project.

After chatting a few more minutes, everyone eventually filters out of the room. Now it’s just me and Deke, and it’s all I can do to keep from running over to him, throwing my arms around him, and hugging him to thank him for everything he has done for me.

“Don’t talk to me yet,” he instructs, setting up the backdrop I’ll sit in front of for taping. “I want to get your reactions for the camera first.”

“Sure,” I say, my heart flinching from his words.
How I wish it could be different,
I think wistfully.
How I wish he didn’t have a camera or a job to do and we could just talk to each other like we did at The Top of The Mark the other night.

But it’s not like that
, I remind myself sternly.
Nor will it ever will be.

“Here we go,” Deke says, motioning for me to stand in front of the backdrop. “We’re ready.”

I stand where he wants, and he begins asking me questions. I answer each one in detail, my excitement for my new project taking over as I relive the moment for him on camera. Finally he turns off the camera and tells me to take off the mic.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he says. “I’m good here.”

“Right,” I say, slowly unhooking the mic as he packs up his gear. I bite my lip, staring at him. Isn’t he going to say
anything
to me? Doesn’t Deke want to at least talk to me about this as a
friend
?

Deke stands up and comes back over to me. He takes the mic from my hand and sets it down on the conference table behind him.

“Now we can talk,” he says, smiling at me. “I needed to get your initial reaction for the camera first, so I could capture your enthusiasm as you answered the questions, but now I get to congratulate you. You were brilliant, Avery. There was no way in hell Potanski wasn’t going to give you this project after that presentation.”

Happiness fills me, and Deke’s eyes crinkle up in the corners as his smile grows.

“Thanks,” I say modestly.

“You locked it down,” he says softly. “And I really shouldn’t call you a fashionista anymore, Avery Andrews. Because you are far more than that.”

I can’t help it. I begin to laugh, and Deke furrows his brow.

“What?”

“Are you saying that you might have had the wrong idea about me at first?” I tease, thinking of the first day he shot at my apartment back in May.

Deke laughs in the way that makes my spine tingle.

“Well, you still have some fashionista traits. Like an infinite amount of designer dresses in your closet.”

I instinctively reach over and playfully punch his arm. “That’s called good wardrobing, Deacon Ryan.”

“Good wardrobing,” he repeats, grinning wickedly at me. “I stand corrected on that.”

We both laugh, but then I look at him seriously.

“Deacon, I couldn’t have done this without you. You motivated me to want to do more with my life. You bring out things in me I didn’t even know existed.”

“That has nothing to do with me. All of that is inside of you. You would have discovered it sooner or later.”

“I don’t agree,” I say quietly. “I needed you to push me. And I needed you to believe in me, too. So I want to thank you for that.”

Neither one of us speaks for a second. I can feel my heart pounding wildly against my ribs. All these feelings—of affection, of want, of need for Deke—are raging inside me with a force I have never known before.

“I don’t know what to say,” he finally says. “I . . . I’ve never really had this kind of impact on anyone before.”

His modesty touches my heart. I hesitate for a moment before speaking. “‘You’re welcome’ is enough for me,” I say.

“Then you’re welcome,” he says softly.

Oh God. I really want to kiss him.

Deke clears his throat, interrupting my thoughts.

“I need to let you go,” he says quietly. “You need to grab lunch before the meetings start back up.”

“Right,” I say, not moving an inch.

“And I have enough footage that I can set you free for the rest of the conference,” he says. “I’m going back to Chicago. You won’t have me hanging around and tailing you through the final day tomorrow, so you can relax and enjoy yourself. I know it’s hard to do that with my camera light always in your face.”

Everything in my world—the happiness of my project, the closeness I feel with Deke—crashes down around me.

“You . . . you’re . . . you’re
leaving
?” I sputter, stunned.

“Tonight,” Deke says quietly. “I thought it would be best if I got out of your way.”

No, this isn’t what’s best for me. Can’t he see that? I suddenly realize that I want more time with him here, in San Francisco. I’m not ready for it to end, not yet.

“You can’t leave me,” I blurt out.

Deke appears taken aback. “Avery, if you’re afraid to fly by yourself—”

“No, that’s not it,” I say. “Deacon, I don’t want you to leave. I want to share San Francisco with you,” I tell him, not giving a damn if this is inappropriate. “Thursday is the 4
th
of July. I have the rest of the week off. And I can’t think of a cooler way to celebrate my achievement than in this city, with you.”

“What are you saying?” he asks, a stunned look passing over his handsome face.

“Stay with me,” I say honestly, speaking from my heart. “Celebrate the 4
th
of July with me here, in San Francisco. Tell me you’ll stay, Deacon. Please tell me you’ll stay.”

Chapter 19

Deke stares at me for what seems like an eternity. My heart is erupting inside my chest as his eyes search my face, trying to figure out what I want from him.

Of course, I know that what I really want from Deke I’ll never be able to have.

Because Isabel already has his heart.

My stomach lurches painfully at the thought, but I force the feeling aside. Because sharing this city and this Premier Airlines experience with him as my friend is enough for me. I quickly realize that I need to reassure him I have nothing else on my mind as far as my invitation goes.

“Deacon,” I plead, filling the silence, “I understand that the kiss we shared on Sunday means nothing. It means nothing to me, too,” I lie. “We’re just friends. And I want to share the experience of San Francisco with you as a
friend
and nothing more.”

Deke blinks. He snaps his head back a bit and looks at me like I’ve just slapped him across the face. I freeze, as I’m completely confused by his reaction. Why does he appear to be so hurt? He’s the one who is in love with Isabel. I’m the one who is hurting here, not Deke.

“Of course,” he says. “I know that.”

Suddenly another reality hits me as I see the painful expression on his face. Oh, shit, what if he has plans with Isabel for the 4
th
of July? Is this why he looks so awkward? Because I’ve opened my big mouth with no regard to the fact that he might want to spend holiday time with his girlfriend rather than his subject?

And once again, I’ve put him in the horrible position of having to let me down easy.

“Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay,” I quickly blurt out, desperate to rectify this mistake. “I know you must have plans to watch fireworks over Navy Pier with Isabel or something like that. I’m sorry I asked.”

“No,” Deke says simply.

“No?” I ask, confused.

“No, I don’t have plans with Isabel,” Deke says. He pauses for a moment. “She’s in Madrid this week.”

I hold my breath as I take in his words. So there’s no reason why he can’t stay here with me—
if he wants to.

“Then stay in San Francisco,” I say softly. “You’re the only person who can help me celebrate my achievement with Premier Airlines. You’re the only one who really understands what this means to me. You’ve been on this whole journey, the good and the bad. And it’s only right that you are here for this part of it. Please, Deacon, please.”

God, I ache to touch him, to simply put my hand over his, but decide that’s a dangerous thing. It’s probably not wise to touch a man you love but who loves someone else instead. It’s kind of like putting your palm on a hot stovetop.

The only thing you are bound to get is burned.

Deke stares at me once again, but I notice his expression has softened. “So you’re planning to stay another couple of days?”

“Well, it’s not like I really
planned
it,” I admit.

A slow smile begins to form on Deke’s face. “Right. So you have the extra money to stay at the Fairmont for two more nights?”

Damn it. He knows the saga of my finances better than I do.
Or care to remember
, I think miserably.

And he knows as well as I do that if I do stay two more days, it should be at Motel 6 and not the Fairmont.

“Well,” I say, swallowing, “uh, with some careful budgeting, I’m sure I can make this work. Besides, you know how much I hate flying. I’ll probably never come back here again. This is really an
investment
in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“I see,” he says, his eyes still on mine.

“And if I forget all about that skirt at shopkitson.com and the new pair of Paige Premium Denim jeans I’ve been saving for, I should be able to afford this trip.”

Damn. I really wanted those items for my end of summer wardrobe.

But then I think of Deke and know this will be worth the sacrifice, if I can convince him to stay.

“So financially you’re okay. But didn’t you have plans back in Chicago for the long weekend?”

“Trust me, Mom will understand if I’m not there for her annual Cool Whip and fruit 4
th
of July flag cake.”

He furrows his brow. “Flag cake?”

“You know, it’s made of pound cake and Cool Whip and strawberries and blueberries make up the stars and stripes part of the cake. Haven’t you had one of those before?”

“No,” Deke says, looking rather skeptical at the idea of a Cool Whip and fruit flag cake.

“Well, that’s horrible. You don’t know what you’re missing. I’ll have to make you one when we get back to Chicago. But I digress. My mom and dad will be thrilled I want to stay here, I promise.”

He nods. “So you can afford the trip, your parents will be okay . . . sounds like you have all the bases covered, Fashionista.”

I notice a glint in Deke’s eyes, and my spine tingles in response. Now he’s teasing me, which only means one thing.

He’s going to stay
.

“I do,” I say smartly, keeping my euphoria to myself.

“Well, since you’ve paid attention to all the details in this proposal of yours, I don’t see how I can say no.”

I grin excitedly at him. “You won’t be sorry you’re staying. We’re going to have so much fun. I have like 376 things we’ll have to do between Wednesday afternoon and Friday morning before we go back, but—”

“Not so fast. You’ve obviously invited me to stay because of my knowledge of San Francisco. So I’ll arrange the tourist itinerary. You go back to your conference, and by Wednesday afternoon, I’ll have everything planned for us. I promise you’ll have the time of your life if you trust me on this. So do you trust me?” he asks softly.

“I do trust you,” I say quietly.

“Good.”

I swallow hard as a lump has unexpectedly risen in my throat. Emotions get the better of me, and only one thought is going through my head as I stare back at him.

I do trust you, Deke. And I’d trust you with my heart if you wanted it
, I add to myself.

The problem is, Deke doesn’t want my heart.

I swallow hard again. But he does want my friendship, I think. And that’s what I need to focus on.

So despite the fact there will be no romance involved, I’m really happy that Deke has agreed to stay. He wants to show me the time of my life in San Francisco during the 4
th
of July holiday.

And I intend to let him do just that.