CHAPTER 30
Reed
T he full realization of what Lila and I did last night knocks me on my ass when I check my phone the following morning.
Cal: Is there any way to record her talk? I swear, I’m about to catch a flight if you say no, my appointments be damned.
I stare at his text for longer than I need to. The question he’s asking is simple, yet the only thought in my head is how I made his daughter come last night and how I’d do it again.
Running a hand through my hair, I excuse myself from the group of colleagues I was having breakfast with and sit in the lobby. I still have an hour until my presentation.
Me: All talks are recorded and will be uploaded online sometime in the upcoming weeks. I can send you the link when Lila’s is up.
Cal: Great. Can always count on you.
If only you knew.
Cal: I called Lila earlier, but I didn’t want to overwhelm her before her presentation. Did she say something to you? Is she nervous?
Me: She was okay when I saw her yesterday. She texted me today that she was going for a walk to clear her head. She’ll be fine. She’s resourceful.
Cal: Obviously. She’s my daughter.
I catch myself smirking before I reread the she’s my daughter part.
It’s not like I have forgotten who Lila’s parents are. But it isn’t until now that it truly sinks in that if what happened last night somehow got out in the open, my friendship with Grace and Cal would end.
And Cal would kill me on sight.
I’ve worked with Grace for three years and eventually found an unexpected but genuine friendship in her and her husband. If they knew what I feel for their daughter, what we’ve done , our relationship would go down the drain.
Yet it’s not enough to keep me away from Lila, which terrifies me. Because I’m starting to think nothing ever will.
With my mind on autopilot, I go back upstairs to get my notes before heading over to the conference hall downstairs. The auditorium is packed—as it always is for keynote speakers—and as I try to find a single empty seat in the crowd, I wonder if Lila would freak out if she saw so many people at her presentation.
Has she slept well? Eaten breakfast? Gone over her notes enough times?
She texted me this morning that she was fine, and I believe her, but I still worry.
My own presentation goes smoothly. Mental health tool kits in foster care is something I’ve discussed many times before in front of similar crowds, but I take it as a good sign that people are still interested in hearing what I have to say.
After I wrap up my talk and the fifteen minutes of follow-up questions, I’m tackled in the lobby by at least a dozen attendees who didn’t get the chance to ask theirs. I’m about to excuse myself, reaching for my phone to text Lila, when I see her.
She’s standing at the far end of the lobby, a playful smirk on her lips. When our gazes collide, she waves at me.
“Thank you for your questions,” I tell the crowd around me. “I have somewhere to be, if you’ll excuse me.”
I don’t care who’s watching as I close the distance between us, stopping only when I’m next to her.
“At least five people around me sighed when you rolled up your sleeves during your talk,” Lila teases.
I arch an amused eyebrow. “Jealous?”
“Maybe I am.”
My cock stirs awake, pushing against my zipper.
“You have nothing to be jealous of,” I tell her. “I’m yours for the rest of the day.”
And all the time.
“Great, because I’m about to have a panic attack just from looking at my notes.”
I glance at the watch on my wrist. “Go ahead and wait for me in your room. I’ll grab us some lunch and help you go over your notes one last time. You still have two hours to go.”
Her face turns from playful to concerned. “As much as I’m craving some good sushi right now, I will literally throw up if I take a single bite of food.”
“Trust me that doing a presentation on an empty stomach isn’t a good idea,” I say. “I’ll grab you something small. Do you like apples?”
“Yes, but—”
“Just let me take care of you, all right?”
She lets out a shaky breath. I see the fight leaving her when she agrees. “All right.”
Two hours later, after making sure she ate the whole apple and reminding her that she got selected to speak at this conference for a reason and she’ll do a great job, I walk her through the backstage door of the auditorium.
With just a couple minutes until she’s introduced, she turns to me, worry all over her face, and asks, “Any last-minute advice?”
I’m much too aware of all the people around me—lighting crew, organizers, and other speakers. But somewhere along the past few months, I’ve lost all self-control when it comes to her, so I pull her into my arms.
“You deserve to be here, Lila,” I mutter as she hugs me back, resting her head on my chest. “You shine brighter than anyone else I’ve ever met. All your hard work has gotten you this opportunity—enjoy it, angel. Have fun on that stage because you’ve earned every second of it.”
She squeezes my middle before letting go, unshed tears swimming in her eyes. “Thank you, Reed. I needed that.”
I resist the urge to wipe her tears away. If we were alone, I would. “That’s what I’m here for. Now go show them what you’re made of.”
***
Lila
Reed’s words fill every corner of my head as I walk over to the center of the stage, my ears filled with the sound of applause. I only allow myself one second to freak out when I see a full auditorium before I open my mouth, hoping my voice doesn’t give away my nerves.
It doesn’t.
For the next forty minutes, I’m in a dream. As soon as I introduce myself and my research, all the pent-up anxiety and panic I’ve been harboring since I knew my paper had been selected go away.
It’s strange, I realize as I go over my presentation on bibliotherapy and sexual education, how my own perception can change so fast. I’ve spent the last two decades worrying about how other people saw me, if they thought I was worthy of the opportunities I’d been given. Stupidly, I let them dictate what I thought of myself.
All it took was working with Reed to find my self-worth.
No matter how many times he told me I was doing a good job, I didn’t believe him—so he showed me. He gave me the chance to prove my worth, not to him, but to myself—through the group sessions, through letting me handle the kids, through listening to my advice about Ginny, through trusting me to run my own workshop.
It’s taken me twenty-four years, but I know without a single shade of a doubt that this is what I was born to do.
And now that I’ve pretty much graduated, I will show the world what it’s been missing.
Despite my newfound confidence, I’m not expecting a standing ovation at the end of my talk. My mind slips for a moment, trying to convince me that these people are exaggerating, that they’re only trying to make me feel good about myself, that I’m not that great, but I quickly recover.
Because even if they weren’t praising me, I would still feel proud of myself for getting on this stage and nailing my presentation.
I, Lila Callaghan, finally believe in myself.
***
Reed: Be ready at seven. Wear casual clothes.
His text comes through as I’m getting out of the shower later that afternoon. I may or may not have almost slipped after reading it.
What does he mean be ready ?
Why does he want me to wear casual clothes?
What is this about?
With shaky fingers and still in my towel, I text him back.
Me: What happened to hello? How are you?
Reed: It’s called time efficiency.
Me: Am I not allowed to know where we’re going?
Reed: Where’s the fun in that?
Me: See? You’re bossy.
Reed: See you at seven.
A part of me wants to poke him a little harder until he answers my question, but a bigger side of me is all about the thrill of the unknown.
At seven sharp, Reed knocks at my door. Despite knowing he’d also wear casual clothes wherever we’re going, I’m not ready for the sight of him in his leather jacket again.
“Cat’s got your tongue?” he teases.
“Don’t be mean,” I mutter, closing the door behind me and starting down the hallway.
He barks out a laugh. “Cut me some slack, little criminal. Or I won’t tell you what our plans are.”
I arch an eyebrow as we get inside the elevator. “I don’t want to know now, anyway.”
He smirks. “You’re a handful.”
My shoulders rise and fall with a nonchalant shrug. “But you like it.”
“Yeah, I like it a little too much.”
The elevator stops on the ground floor just as I think of doing something very stupid—namely, pressing the button to our floor, guiding him back to my room, and returning the favor from last night.
Neither of us seems too keen on talking about what happened in my hotel bathroom just hours ago, which is fine by me—today has been eventful enough.
My body tingles as he guides me into the back seat of our ride. But then my phone buzzes with a text from my mom, and I spend most of the car ride updating my family on how today went—omitting my current plans with Reed.
The truth is, I’ve been dying to talk to my mom about him. Growing up, I would always go to her for love advice—not that I had much of a love life, but she was the first to know about my crushes. My friends found it weird that I was so close to her, but to me, my mom is my confidant. Instead of jumping to conclusions or getting angry, she always listens to me with an open mind. We disagree sometimes, but what I love about our relationship is that she never judges me.
When it comes to Reed, though, I’m not sure her reaction would be an understanding one.
Would she find it scandalous that he’s so much older than me? My mom is eight years younger than my dad, and my aunt is ten years younger than my uncle, but maybe she’ll think twelve years is too much.
I don’t even want to think about my dad’s reaction if he found out. I wouldn’t put it past him to hunt Reed down.
Not like Reed would ever date me. Of course not. Whatever we’re doing is… I don’t have a name for it. Does it need one?
At this point, the attraction between us is undeniable. But beyond giving in to a tension that has been boiling for months, this is going nowhere. I tell myself my heart doesn’t hurt at my own admission.
“We’re here,” Reed says, snapping me back into the present moment.
When I look out of the window, I can’t help but smile.
“I hope you’re still craving some good sushi,” he adds before getting out of the car and holding the door open for me.
My stomach does a weird flip that has nothing to do with hunger. “Thank you.” Why do I feel so shy all of a sudden? “This is exactly what I needed today.”
My legs wobble a little as he guides me inside, his hand on my lower back, and he doesn’t remove it until we’re sitting by the sushi train.
“What do you want to order?” I ask him as I eye all the options, nearly salivating.
“Whatever you want. I’ve never had sushi before.”
I audibly gasp. “You’re joking.”
“Never saw the appeal, but it must be good if you like it. Order two of whatever you want. My treat.”
“Reed—”
“No buts.” He bumps his knee against mine under the table. “I trust your good taste.”
For the next hour, my belly hurts from laughing as Reed makes faces at each sushi piece he eats, only to then admit he’s a fan.
“The texture is kind of weird,” he argues, an adorable furrow between his brows.
I chuckle. “But it tastes good, doesn’t it?”
“I would eat it again.”
“That’s enough for me. Welcome to the sushi lovers’ club.”
While we try out different types of sushi, Reed tells me all about Ginny’s new advancements—she no longer uses the house as her private bathroom, and she’s made a few friends at the dog park—and I tell him I’m considering signing up for more boxing lessons.
“Maybe after the holidays, once I send in some résumés,” I tell him.
“Where are you applying?”
“To a few local schools and high schools.” I take a sip of my soda, ignoring the flicker of anxiety that appears every time I think about my future. “I still need to get my license, so we’ll see.”
He smiles at me, gentle and confident. “You have nothing to worry about.”
This time, I agree with him.
We don’t stop chatting as we finish our dinner, in the Uber, or on the walk up to our hotel floor. Reed tells me about happier childhood memories with Liam and Warren, and I tell him what it was like to grow up with my aunt, who feels more like an older sister than anything else.
Reed walks me to my room and stops at the door when I open it. Suddenly, the ease I felt between us tonight is replaced by something heavier. Something that makes my body tingle.
“So,” he starts. “I think we need to talk about what happened last night.”
I search his eyes, my heart quickening. “Why?”
He pauses.
Then he shatters all my inhibitions.
“Because I want to do it again.”