Page 72 of Resisting the Fall

“Are you not coming?” she asked. There was a subtle shift in her tone and expression, like she knew by my hesitation what I was about to say. Thanks to Penny’s terrible mom, the sweet girl had endured more than her fair share of disappointment over the years. I refused to join that club.

“Oh, I’ll be there.”

Penny’s smile brightened again. “Nana has work off too, so we can all go to the game together! And to the barn raising!”

At her mention of the barn raising, I nearly got swept away by the wave of anticipation moving through me. Which was definitely a problem. And the exact reason I required a new plan. One with boundaries. Very rigid and intense boundaries that limited me to only spending time with Ben when mandated by our court order. Our shared meals would remain digital—even while I was in Autumn Ridge—and would last a maximum of fifteen minutes. Regrettably, I would also need to stop all attempts to drive him crazy. And I certainly wouldn’t be staying in the same trailer with him again. Or sharing a bed.

I quickly tidied up the workbench and returned my tools to their places. “Do you need me to do anything before I head out, Wally?”

“You already finished the rabbets on the Forresters’ cabinets?”

“I did.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The minute I was outside the shop, I pulled my phone from my pocket to video call Maven. It rang several times before ending the call with: Unavailable. I released a breath, then started toward my truck.

And here I thought it was hard having Maven in Ohio. In France, she was not only six hours ahead of me, but her days were packed, making it so the only time we could talk was right now, before she went to bed.

I had nearly made it home when my phone rang. I snatched it up and pressed accept.

“Hey, you.” Maven’s smile filled my screen, her hair wrapped in a towel. “Sorry I missed your call. I was in the shower.”

“No worries. I’m just headed home from work.”

“How was your day?”

“Same as always. How was your day?”

She sat, leaning back into a chair. “Exhausting but so good. Paris is incredible, Ben! And there are so many insanely talented musicians at the festival. Like I’m being taught by some of the best violinists in the world.” Her smile fell slightly. “I just wish you were here.”

My throat felt tight. “What time is it there? Eleven?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes widened, and she leapt to her feet. “Want to see something?”

“Sure.”

She hurried across the room and set the phone down so all I could see was the ceiling. The sound of sliding metal came through the speaker. “Look.” She picked up the phone and held it up to a window. It was difficult to see what I was looking at. The screen was mainly black, with dim, blurry lights in the distance. “Do you see it?”

“See what exactly?”

She zoomed the camera in, and a movement of faint twinkling lights caught my eye. “Is that the Eiffel Tower?”

“It is! I can see it from my window! And starting at dusk, the lights twinkle every hour on the hour. A group of us are going to head there after the festival tomorrow night and watch it from the banks of the Seine. I’ll have to call you when I’m there so you can see it closer.”

I pulled into my driveway but stayed in the cab. “That sounds amazing.” My reply was generic and under-delivered.

Her smile fell slightly. “You okay?”

My chest constricted. I was okay, but barely. Since Maven had gone off to college two years ago, I’d gotten through our separation by knowing we’d have the summers together. But now she was gone for over three weeks of it, and she would get home just in time to go back to Cleveland for the fall semester. Not that I wasn’t excited for her. I was. This was an opportunity that she might never have again. It just sucked for me in the meantime. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. And I miss my family and your family. And our long drives. And swimming in Leeland’s Pond. And I really, really miss Keller’s maple cinnamon sticky buns.”

I chuckled, feeling lighter just knowing Maven missed home. “I’ll have to tell Mrs. Keller. She’ll be thrilled you’re in the pastry capital of the world and you’re missing her sticky buns.”

Maven smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I know the timing of this is the worst. And I’m sorry. But I’ll make it up to you. Those two weeks before I leave for school, I won’t even pick up my violin.”

“You’ll have to think of another way to make it up to me, because there’s no way I’m missing out on watching you practice. It’s up there for one of my favorite things.”