6. Rose
rose
The whooshing noise that’s overwhelmed my brain ever since Fran and Nora exposed my lie quiets as if my ears suddenly filled with cotton.
I’ve never been pressed up against Reed’s body before, and I am not prepared for it.
He’s so warm. Muscular, but not overly so, with a thin layer of softness to him that makes me want to get grabby with him.
Which I kind of am. One of my hands clutches his waist, the other rests on his chest just below his pec.
Words escape my brain like rats abandoning ship.
I thought for sure he would tell everyone the truth as soon as he had the chance.
That whatever I said to my parents was too bad because absolutely nothing is going on between us.
Then, he would scare everyone away with dirty looks before they could ask follow-up questions.
Instead, he confirmed it all with two sentences, and I don’t know what to think.
Well, except that Nathan’s one-man standing ovation seems like overkill.
I gaze up at Reed, trying to get a bead on what his explanation for this could be. I know mine—an inability to tell my hovering parents “no” even when they’re thousands of miles away. But I can’t imagine why he would go along with it. He says no all the time. He loves that word.
His scowl has the barest upward tilt to it, but that almost-smile isn’t what’s throwing me off. It’s his warm, brown eyes. They shine back at me, holding something I haven’t seen there before and can’t name. Which is too bad because I really need to know if I’m getting fired later tonight.
Somewhere, something is squealing, and several sets of eyes are locked on us.
Some of the onlookers probably just want their coffee, but curious gazes bore into us from every side.
Fran and Nora are both congratulating us.
Fran even whipped out her phone to take a picture, so my parents should be fully convinced of our relationship within hours.
This doesn’t settle the anxiety in my stomach.
Neither does Reed’s palm sliding across my back as he releases me from that glorious side-hug.
“Any other questions?” His tone says he’ll have no further comment on the matter.
Nora and Fran smile at us like their bingo numbers just came up and scurry away. But that puts Reed’s brother Luke and his daughter, Jovie, front and center.
It turns out she’s the source of the squealing. The little girl’s bouncing around, one hand in a fist at her cheek, the other holding her phone to her chest.
“Oh my gosh, Uncle Reed! Why didn’t you tell us about her before?”
Nathan slides closer to join his other family members. “Yes, Reed. Why didn’t you?”
Reed’s gaze cuts to me, but it doesn’t stick. “Wasn’t your business.”
Jovie rolls her eyes. “Uh, we’re family. Everything is our business.”
“She’s got a point.” Nathan holds up his hand for a high-five. She gives it a smack, releasing another happy squeal.
“Are you going to order?” Reed asks Luke. “We’ve got a line.”
“I want a strawberry milk Frappuccino, please.” Jovie smiles up at me with pure devotion in her eyes. I get a tiny taste of what life must be like for Taylor Swift. A little girl’s adoration and a big, hulking man to hold her close.
Temporarily. Probably never again. Best not to think about the holding close part.
“I’ll have an iced brown sugar espresso.” Luke keeps his curiosity pinned on his brother, but Reed doesn’t fold.
We serve their drinks, but nobody leaves. They move out of line but stay right here, each one with a different question in their eyes. I must be reflecting questions of my own right back.
Is this really happening? How are we going to explain it? Am I living a romcom plot right now? But mostly, Why would Reed go along with my insane lie?
“When did this gorgeous but unlikely match-up happen?” Nathan’s got a massive grin on his face, but that’s pretty normal for him. Maybe it’s not usually cranked up to this degree, but somewhere close.
“Uh, well…” I scramble for a believable timeline.
“Don’t you have a medic table to go back to?” Reed retorts.
His brother jolts upright, lazy smile gone. “Oh, crap. You’re right. We’re talking later.”
“Nope.”
Nathan turns to me. “Lovely to see you again, Rose. We’ll talk later, too.”
“Nope,” Reed says again.
Nathan waves at me and power-walks away.
“We should go, too.” Luke puts a hand on his daughter’s shoulder to steer her back toward the lawn chairs and picnic blankets spread across the park. The sun is starting to set, casting the crowd in hints of gold and pink.
Jovie sputters on her strawberry milk. “Dad, no. I have so many questions to ask them.”
“That’s why we’re leaving.” He gives Reed a meaningful look before sending a softer one my way. “I hope we’ll see you later, Rose.”
They get three steps away before Jovie turns back. “At least bring Rose to family dinner this week!”
Easily a dozen people turn their heads to see who she’s issuing her boisterous invitation to. Luke takes her hand, tugging her along. I just catch her “Ugh, Dad,” before I lose sight of them in the crowd.
This is all a mistake and about to explode in my face, but I really want to go to that family dinner.
Reed and I work through the last of the concert without talking.
He’s never much of a talker, but this quiet feels heavier than normal.
The weight of everything he’s not saying presses me down into a pancake.
But I can either smile at customers and prepare their orders properly, or I can word-vomit all my bad choices that led us to this awkwardness. I can’t do both.
When the bluegrass band finishes their set, and the crowd starts to disperse, Reed and I pack up our booth. Unsurprisingly, we get more curious looks than usual as people walk by on their way out of the park. Sunshine’s gossip crews never rest.
Oh, holy…I didn’t think about the gossip. People in this town love to talk. Everyone will know about Reed and me within forty-eight hours. My stomach rolls over, but I need to hold it together. I’m not crowning this night in the spotlight by throwing up in the street.
By the time we get everything loaded into Reed’s Bronco, my insides are a disgusting, writhing tangle of worry.
He closes up the back and then faces off with me.
The streetlight above us flickers on in the deepening twilight.
A few people pass us on the sidewalk on their way to their cars, but we’re basically alone.
Time to rip off the bandage.
“I—”
“You told your parents I’m your boyfriend.” It’s not a question, but it’s pretty obvious he wants answers. What normal person wouldn’t?
My apology dies in my throat. I search his scowl for hints of what he’s feeling, but I don’t find anything I recognize. Maybe “What the heck is going on?” but it doesn’t take a scowl-whisperer to figure that one out.
“Not exactly,” I say.
The frown line between his eyebrows deepens. “Not exactly your boyfriend? Are we engaged?”
He just asks flat-out, as if he fully believes me capable of saying something so crazy. I guess tonight pretty much proved that I have no right to be offended by that. Hello, crazy train.
“Not exactly you.”
His eyes widen a fraction, then shutter. He nods as if everything clicked into place. “You meant another Reed.”
I’m going to ignore the flicker of disappointment I’m reading into that. Clearly, I am a terrible judge right now.
“Yes, but also no.” I don’t want him thinking there’s some other man named Reed in my life, and he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s so much worse than that.
He stares at me for a second before pulling his arms across his chest. “I need more information. What does that mean?”
I exhale a long, slow breath. “I might have named my cat Reed.”
His expression flattens like a steamroller came by just for his face. Even his beard has lost its oomph, which is impossible. It’s a great beard. The perfect length between scruff and full. Highly scratchable.
“You named your cat Reed.” His voice sounds paper thin, too.
“Would you believe it’s a coincidence?”
“Not when you ask that way.”
Why didn’t I stick with the original name I tested out on that cat? I wouldn’t be in this mess if I still called him Captain Snuggles.
“He’s so grumpy. None of the other names I tried fit. His coloring gives him the cutest little eyebrows that slash down and make him look even grouchier.”
Reed is unimpressed by my enthusiastic description of his namesake. Really, he should be flattered. Kind of.
I point at his face. “His eyebrows look just like that.”
“This isn’t clearing things up.”
“I know.” I sigh, running my clammy hands down my dress. Where to even begin? “I’ve mentioned that my parents are on permanent vacation since they retired. They’re traveling the world, but they still check in on me all the time. Sometimes daily. They’re convinced I can’t…”
Why is this worse than explaining how I accidentally told them he’s my boyfriend? He’s my boss and sort-of friend. I like and respect him. Perk Me Up is my happy place, and I don’t want to wreck that by looking like a complete fool in front of Reed.
If there’s any space left between “pretending he’s my boyfriend” and “complete fool,” anyway.
“Convinced you can’t what?”
I think through all their helpful hints on every call. The unsolicited advice. The never-ending stream of reminders, tips, and warnings. How small and naive it inevitably makes me feel. The doubt that creeps in because what if they’re right, and I don’t know what I’m doing?
Then I remember the sense of relief that washed through me the day they set off on their first extended cruise. Followed immediately by guilt crashing in like a tidal wave for being so ungrateful.
“Be an adult, I guess? They still baby me even though they’re on the other side of the world. I said your name talking to my cat, and when they thought I meant you and that we were together, I…didn’t stop them from thinking it.”