Page 106 of Banter & Blushes #1

REID

Bradley leans over my shoulder, frowning at the problem. “What if we add skylights instead? Keeps the wall intact but brings in the light they want.”

I run the calculations in my head. “That could actually work.”

We’ve been at this for hours, holed up in the office long after everyone else has gone home.

The Wilson project is our biggest client this year, and the deadline is breathing down our necks.

My eyes burn from staring at the screen, and there’s a crick in my neck that no amount of stretching seems to fix.

“Coffee?” Bradley asks, already heading for the break room.

“Please. The stronger, the better.”

While he’s gone, I lean back in my chair and roll my shoulders, trying to ease the tension. My phone buzzes on the desk, and when I see Briella’s name on the screen, I instantly smile.

“Hey, Bri. Everything okay?” I answer, already feeling lighter just hearing her voice.

She asks me about the Valentine Gala, and I say yes before she can even finish explaining. Of course I say yes. I’d say yes to just about anything she asked, a fact that Bradley never gets tired of pointing out.

When I hang up, Bradley is standing in the doorway with two mugs of coffee and a knowing smirk .

“Let me guess,” he says, handing me a mug. “Briella needs a date for something.”

“It’s not a date,” I correct automatically. “It’s the hospital’s charity gala. I’m her plus-one.”

“Right,” Bradley says, dragging out the word as he drops into his chair. “Just like she was your ‘plus-one’ to your cousin’s wedding. And her medical school graduation. And that thing in Chicago.”

“Different circumstances,” I mutter, taking a sip of coffee to avoid eye contact.

“Same result,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “You, looking at her like she’s the answer to every question you’ve ever had. Her, completely oblivious. Both of you going home alone at the end of the night when everyone with eyes can see you should be together.”

I ignore the accuracy of his assessment. “We’re friends.”

“Friends,” Bradley repeats flatly. “For eight years.”

“Eight incredible years of friendship that I’m not about to ruin because I can’t keep my feelings in check.”

Bradley sets down his mug with a definitive thunk. “Man, when are you going to make your move? You’ve been in love with this woman since what—sophomore year of college?”

“Junior year,” I correct without thinking, then curse under my breath when Bradley points at me triumphantly.

“So you admit it!”

“I’ve never denied it,” I say, turning back to the blueprints. “I've just chosen not to act on it.”

“Why not?”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Because she’s the most important person in my life. She’s the first person I call with good news, bad news, or no news at all. She knows exactly how I take my coffee and why I hate mayonnaise. She helped me pick out my apartment, for goodness sake.”

“Which means she already loves you,” Bradley points out. “Just maybe not the way you love her. Yet.”

“Exactly,” I say. “I’d rather have her in my life as a friend than risk losing her completely.”

Bradley shakes his head. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s called being sensible.”

“It’s called being a coward,” he fires back, but there’s no real heat in it. We’ve had this conversation too many times for him to be genuinely frustrated. “One of these days, some other guy is going to see what you see in her, and he’s not going to be afraid to go after it.”

The thought sends a cold spike through my chest. “I know.”

“And you’re just going to, what, stand back and watch it happen? Give a toast at her wedding to someone else?”

I don’t answer. Can’t answer. Because the truth is, I’ve played out that exact scenario in my head a hundred times, and it makes me physically ill each time.

“Look,” Bradley says, his voice softening, “I’ve known you both for years. And I’ve watched you orbit each other like planets, always close but never quite colliding. It’s exhausting.”

“Tell me about it,” I mutter.

“So, do something about it,” he urges. “Take a chance. The Valentine Gala? It’s practically gift-wrapped for you. Romantic setting, fancy clothes, probably some slow dancing.”

I can’t help the small spark of hope that ignites at the thought. “She doesn't see me that way.”

“You don't know that,” Bradley insists. “Not unless you put yourself out there.”

I turn back to the blueprints, trying to refocus on the problem at hand. “Can we get back to work? We have a deadline.”

Bradley sighs, but gives up. “Fine.”

For all his prodding, Bradley means well. He wants me to be happy.

I just wish I was brave enough to reach for that happiness instead of admiring it from a safe distance.

As we dive back into the project, my mind keeps drifting to Friday night. To Briella in some beautiful dress, to slow dances and champagne and possibilities.

To what it might be like to finally cross the line I've been too afraid to approach for eight years.

And for once, I’m truly considering risking it all.