Chapter 8 #2
My stomach bottoms out like I’m on a roller coaster. And I think I might be—an emotional one at least. Irritation to victory to sadness that she’s bailing on me. Again. “We?”
“Jason and I. We got stuck in traffic.”
“We can wait for y—”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she interrupts. “Just go ahead and scan the things you think I’ll like. I trust you.”
“To what? Do your entire registry for you?”
“Don’t worry, Jason said Reid is there too so you don’t have to do it alone.”
I eye the man in question. “I would rather do it alone.” He rolls his eyes.
“Just play nice. You two have to travel across the world together in a few months.”
“Unfortunately.”
She’s quiet for a moment on the other end, then she finally says, “You really don’t like him, do you?”
“Not at all.”
“Well, time to start faking it.”
“Kate—”
“For me,” she tacks on sweetly. I bite my tongue. She sure is asking a lot of me today. The registry is one thing, but pretending to enjoy my time with Reid is another. “Or make an effort to be friends! This is a great opportunity. Make some small talk. Bond. Make my registry. It’ll be fun.”
“If it’ll be so fun, why aren’t you here?”
“Traffic, remember?”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Okay, well I have to run! Send me the link when you’re done. Talk soon!”
And with that, the line dies. And that rollercoaster does an upside down loop and now we’re on the path of anger.
Anger that she bailed, that she conned me into doing a task that she clearly didn’t want to do, anger that I thought she wanted me to do something with her to help and hang out just to realize she’s using me and my desperation to bond with her against me.
I draw in a slow breath through my nose as I shove the phone back in my purse. My eyes start to sting, but I blink furiously so Reid won’t see any emotion from me besides disdain for him.
“They bailed, didn’t they?” Reid asks.
“Yep.”
“And they want us to do the registry on our own.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Great.” He rungs his fingers through his dark hair and sighs. “What are we supposed to do now?”
I draw in a calming breath, then another, and when the burning in my eyes finally subsides, I turn to face him, ready to pitch my plan. “Well, we could divide and conquer, or we could be cordial and make small talk so that we stop hating each other.”
His brows knit together as he processes my words, then after a beat, he says, “I don’t hate you, Jane.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“We just . . . got off on the wrong foot.”
“And whose fault was that?” I ask.
He purses his lips. “Technically yours.”
I scoff and step around him, looking for an employee who can give us some kind of guidance on how on earth we do in person registries in this day and age. “I’ve seen The Bear. You were supposed to shout ‘behind’ while walking with trays of food, so really this is your fault.”
“If I lie and say it was my fault, will you move on from it?”
I spin on him, turning so fast that he barely stops before slamming into me.
His chest brushes against mine and I’m hit with his lemon and rosemary scent again.
I sneak an inhale before he can notice, then say, “I will never move on from it. Especially not if you lie about it being your fault when it definitely was, and also because you never apologized for being a jerk.”
He stares at me for a minute, the hard line of his lips softening just barely. “I’m sorry for being a jerk.” I never thought I’d actually hear the words from him, and I’m in such shock that I consider accepting his apology, but then he goes and ruins it by saying, “There. Forgive me yet?”
I roll my eyes. “Never.” Then I turn on my heel.
“You can’t stay mad at me forever, Jane,” he calls behind me. I swear I hear amusement in his voice, but I don’t dare turn around to confirm it.
“Watch me,” I shout back over my shoulder.
I finally find an employee in a black polo with a red Walden’s logo embroidered over her heart and she sets both of us up with scanners I didn’t even realize existed anymore.
After she explains how to use them, she sets us off on our own.
I don’t ask Reid what he wants to do before I start walking toward the kitchen section, on a mission to scan the most expensive dishes I can find just to spite my sister.
I find a set of cobalt and white plates with a pattern that reminds me of an Italian tile.
I run my fingers over the bowl, appreciating the smoothness of it.
If I ever won the lottery, this would be a set I would stock in my own house.
Kate though? She’s much more minimalistic.
More whites and beiges and boring neutrals.
But she’s not here to fight me on it, is she?
It feels fitting considering her Amalfi Coast wedding.
I lift the scanner and smile as it beeps.
A wave of vindication washes over me. Damn, it feels good to act out a bit.
She’s going to be so mad at me for this later, but maybe she should’ve come to her own stupid registry date.
Or maybe she should’ve sent her maid of honor.
I feel Reid’s presence behind me, looming and tall. “I can’t see those dishes in Jason’s dish rack.”
I’m still staring at the bowls with a wave of satisfaction over my tiny rebellion. “Well then they should be here to make their own selections, shouldn’t they?”
I scan a set of gold silverware. She’s going to absolutely hate it.
“I get the feeling that you’re revenge registering right now,” Reid says.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” I say, strolling around the table and scanning a ridiculously expensive silver champagne bucket and crystal glasses.
“What are you going to do when she lights you up over this?”
I lift my head from the crystal decanter to look at him.
He’s watching me with a curious expression, a hip propped against the wood table and his arms crossed over his broad chest. I can’t tell if he’s noticed the relationship between me and Kate, but I’m not about to unpack that with him right now.
I shrug. “I’ll tell her she can redo it herself.” I scan the decanter. “She should be here doing it anyways. She should be here.”
My voice actually cracks on the last word, my throat suddenly overcome with emotion I wasn’t prepared to feel over a crystal decanter.
She should be here. And she’s not. She never is. She asks me for help, then she disappears. She’s only around when it’s convenient for her, and that’s really starting to dig a hole deep in my heart.
Reid pushes off the table, coming to stand behind me. Wordlessly he reaches a hand out and holds the scanner in front of the decanter. When his machine beeps, I look up at him with a furrowed brow.
Now he’s the one to shrug. “She’s not here to tell me she only wants one.”
The corner of my lips turn up in a mischievous smile, and I’m surprised to find Reid’s doing the same. Is this . . . is this an unspoken truce? At least temporarily.
I stare at him for a beat, trying to wrap my head around what this means for us as sworn enemies now. “Are we . . .”
“Going to make them the worst registry ever?” he finishes for me. “Absolutely.”
I huff a laugh. “You know, Reid, you don’t have a lot of good ideas, but that might be one of the best I’ve ever heard.”
“I have plenty of good ideas.”
“We’ll see about that.”
I start to step around him, but I only make it a couple steps before his fingers wrap around my wrist, effectively stopping me in my tracks.
I look down at his fingers, then my gaze follows up the length of his forearm to his bicep all the way up his face to his bright eyes.
There’s some expression in them I can’t read, and I’m too busy trying to figure out why he’s holding me in place—and why it’s making me feel like I need a deep breath—to decipher it.
Finally, he swallows, the muscles of his throat working, and he quietly says, “I’m sorry.” I tilt my head to the side, and he continues. “I’m sorry for being a jerk when we first met. I’m sure it was a terrible way to start your first day of work, and I apologize.”
Whatever barbed wire I had put around my heart for him softens a bit, my guard coming down a fraction at the sincerity in his voice, the softness on his face, the words themselves as they finally sink into my stubborn brain.
“That was a genuine apology,” I murmur.
He smirks slightly. “It was, yes.”
I loosen a breath. “I’m sorry for bumping into you and wasting a bunch of your time and food and ingredients.”
He shrugs. “It was an honest mistake.” I rear back in shock and he pauses. “Wasn’t it?”
“It was, I just didn’t expect you to accept my apology.”
He takes a step closer, his eyes dropping to his fingers around my wrist. Instead of dropping his hand, his thumb brushes my skin. “I do accept it. You’re not a bad person.”
“Neither are you,” I admit.
What is happening to me? One apology and a thumb brush on my wrist and suddenly we’re cordial? I need to break this spell. I take a step back, pulling my wrist from his grip, my whole body somehow feeling a few degrees cooler with some space between us.
“What do you say we try and find the most expensive but ugly thing in the store for them?”
His smile brightens his face, and I almost feel like I should look away before I get sucked into his charm again. “Let’s do it.”