Chapter 14
My vision is blurry from the tears as I push open the door and step into the warm June air.
Pedestrians shove past me on the sidewalk and the familiar sounds of New York traffic are oddly soothing.
A tear trickles down my cheek and I swipe it away furiously, digging my phone out of my purse and pulling up my best friend’s contact info with shaking fingers.
She, blessedly, answers on the second ring.
“Are you okay?” she asks immediately by way of greeting.
“What time did you say your flight leaves tomorrow?” My voice cracks at the end of the question. I’d normally be embarrassed of crying in front of anyone, of showing any sort of emotion or vulnerability, but not to my best friend. Not to the one who feels more like family to me than my own sisters.
“Oh, Jane, I’m already on my way to the airport.”
My steps slow before coming to a halt. I stop and press my back to the brick building behind me, letting everyone continue on past me as my heart crumples right there in the middle of a bustling sidewalk on a sunny Sunday afternoon.
“I’m so sorry,” my best friend’s voice fills the line, consoling and regretful.
I wave a hand as if she could see me right now. “Don’t be. You have things to do. Obligations. A fancy job you’re great at.”
“Is everything okay?”
I sniffle. “Yes, everything is just fine. I just wanted some company. The shower went . . . well, it went about as well as I should have expected it would go.”
“I feel terrible, Jane. If I didn’t have to go for work I’d turn around right now.”
“Well you obviously can’t choose me over Dublin. Seriously, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Have fun. Let me know when you two land.”
“Yes, mom,” Lola teases.
“Send pictures. Let me pretend like I’m there too.”
“Do you want the grainy ones from my phone or the gorgeous ones Kai takes?”
“Lola, I don’t have time to wait for Kai to upload photos and email them to me. Just send me whatever blurry photos you take.”
She scoffs. “My photos are not blurry.”
Kai mutters something in the background. “No they are not,” Lola says, doubling down. I can just picture her swatting him playfully on the arm, him grinning at her as he drives to the airport, the smile that would envelope her face.
Okay now I’m feeling sad for myself.
I clear my throat, bringing myself back to the present and out of my sad, pitiful train of thought.
“Seriously, have fun. I can’t wait to read your article.”
“You’ll be the first, as always,” she promises.
“Safe travels.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I end the call and shove my phone in my purse.
“I’ll keep you company.”
I jump at the sound of the deep baritone. I spin around and find Reid behind me, hands shoved in his pockets.
“So long as that wasn’t a secret boyfriend you were talking to,” he adds. An amused grin touches his lips, but there’s something in his eyes that looks vaguely like curiosity.
Pressing a hand to my racing heart that has everything to do with him scaring me and absolutely nothing to do with his smile, I hiss “Where did you come from?”
Reid nods a head to the building we just exited.
“The shower. Same as you.” I simply nod in response, my hand still pressed to my chest and my thrumming heart as I stare at him.
His eyes are roving over my face, taking in my red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
I briefly worry that I have dark streaks of mascara trailing down my face, but I have too many emotions to push that one to the highest of concerns.
He frowns and quickly closes the distance between us, his rosemary and lemon scent infiltrating my senses and suddenly making me feel a brief sense of relief.
Reid raises a hand and gently swipes his thumb across my cheekbones.
“Are you okay?” His voice is low and full of concern.
I slowly draw in a breath, hoping it’ll work past the lump in my throat and the tears will finally pause. But I’m afraid if I use my actual voice that I’ll break down again, so I simply nod in reply.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I shake my head no. He nods, waits a beat, rests his fingers under my chin. I let him tilt my face up and melt a bit as he inspects my expression again, his brow furrowing as he studies me. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Depends on the question,” I croak out.
He’s already seen me crying. What do I have to lose now?
“Who was on the phone?”
The question catches me so off guard that a tiny laugh escapes me. “Why? Are you jealous?”
“Depends on if it was a secret boyfriend or not.”
I consider telling him yes, in fact, it was a secret boyfriend just to mess with him, but there’s something about the earnestness on his face, the hesitation in his blue eyes that has me reconsidering.
So instead I shake my head. “No. It wasn’t a secret boyfriend. Just Lola.”
“Thank god,” he mutters, the tenseness in his shoulders visibly relaxing as he exhales a breath.
“So you are jealous.”
“Not of Lola.”
“Sure.”
His lips twitch and then he drops his hand from my chin and extends his palm up to me. “Come on then. Let’s get out of here.”
I look to the ornate door I just walked out of. Just the thought of climbing the stairs to get back to the venue has me close to tears again. “I . . .”
“Or would you rather I walk you back upstairs for the gift opening?”
I slide my palm on his and intertwine our fingers.
A warmth spreads from my hand all the way up my arm into my chest. My body suddenly feels abuzz from just the contact alone.
I glance down at our hands then up at his face only to find him staring at our fingers too and I briefly wonder if he felt it too.
Before I can ask, he takes a step from the wall, guiding me into the bustling bodies and down the sidewalk, away from the celebration I put months of hard work into for my ungrateful sister.
Reid slides a tomato resting on a cutting board across the counter to where I stand beside him. I watch as he opens a drawer, pulls out a knife, and delicately sets the blade beside the tomato.
“Mind dicing that for me?”
I’m standing barefoot in Reid’s immaculate kitchen, still in the blush pink dress Kate made me wear, but covered with a knit wool sweater Reid scrounged from his closet for me when he noticed me shivering.
I study him only for a second—getting distracted by the corded forearm muscles exposed from his rolled-up shirt sleeves—before wordlessly dragging the cutting board closer, grabbing the knife and beginning to slice.
“Sorry,” he adds, wiping his hands on a dish towel that I assume was once white. He flings the towel over his shoulder with an easy flick. “You were saying?”
I blow out a breath. What was I even saying? A lot of things with a lot of emotions behind them, that’s for sure. There’s no way he actually wants to hear all my feelings. And there’s no way I’m strong enough to unleash my deepest feelings to him. The desire to be included. Taken seriously.
Loved.
“If you’re worrying about me making fun of you for having feelings, you can stop that train of thought now and just lay it on me.” His words and the soothing tone accompanying them unlocks some sort of padlock on my heart.
“Sometimes I don’t like my family very much,” I admit. I keep my eyes glued on the tomato, the repetitive motion of slicing it then chopping it into tiny pieces. Keeping my gaze down feels less vulnerable.
“Sometimes I don’t like your family very much either,” he says. That draws a small smile out of me. Good, so I’m not the only one who notices how horrible they can be. “Why do you put up with them?”
I shrug. “Because they’re family,” I say, like it’s the only answer. Because to me, it is. You should be willing to do anything for your family. Right? I let out a breath. “Kate is just stressed. Weddings bring out the worst in people, you know?”
“I don’t know. I don’t find myself at many.”
“Much to the dismay of your group of secret admirers.”
He smirks, but keeps working. I ground myself in the sounds of whatever he’s working on. The thud of a knife against a cutting board. The splatter of juice in a cup. The clinking of ice in a glass.
“But I feel guilty feeling that way,” I continue.
He hesitates for a moment. “Why?”
“Because I should be grateful I have my family. I have siblings and parents and people who . . .” I trail off.
People who what? Care? About themselves maybe, but not so much about me.
Not that the world revolves around me, but them remembering where I work and thinking to include me once in a while would be nice.
I shake my head. “I just think about Lola. She’d kill to have her parents back, and here I am sending my mom’s calls to voicemail to avoid backhanded compliments and bickering with my sisters at brunch. ”
“You know it’s okay to have feelings, right? How Lola or anyone else processes them is their business.”
“Yeah I guess so.” I dice the last piece of tomato and slide the board back to him just as he pushes a rocks glass to me.
I barely even eye the pale green liquid and the bright-red rim before I take a sip.
When the flavors burst on my tongue I pause.
It’s spicy and sweet and citrusy and I’m already going in for a second sip when I realize he made me a spicy margarita.
How did he know I like those?
I pause, the glass halfway to my mouth, a warm feeling that has nothing to do with the tequila spreading through my belly to my chest. Reid stops his work and looks up from the bowl he’s stirring. He almost looks nervous as he asks, “Is it okay?”
“It’s perfect.”
He visibly relaxes and the hint of a proud smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he resumes his stirring. I take another sip, then set the glass down. Absolutely phenomenal. Exactly what I needed today. But still. “How did you know this is my comfort drink?”