Chapter 29 #2
Two-fifty. Still not easy. Still means pushing bills around. But my hand hovers near the counter, because this isn’t just a ring. This is Reese.
I clear my throat. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
He nods once, like he knew I’d say that, and moves the ring carefully to the back. “I’ll keep it safe for you.”
When I step outside again, sunlight scatters off the glass storefronts, too bright for my burning eyes. I tell myself it’ll work out. It has to. Because I’ll move heaven and earth to see that ring on her finger.
I scan the shop windows for Reese, expecting to find her still buried in those ridiculous moose pajamas.
She’s not there.
I round the corner—and stop cold.
She’s pressed tight against the brick, phone clutched to her ear, shoulders hunched in that way I remember from the first night we talked.
“There’s nothing else to say, Vander. Tell your friends whatever you want—it doesn’t matter. No, I’m not flying back to New York just to explain why we broke up.”
A muffled roar bleeds through the receiver, sharp enough that I can make out the venom from here.
Reese’s chin drops, and then her voice fractures. “Fine. Say it. Tell them I’m a useless, lying whore. Tell them I’m nothing. Does that make you feel better? Does that?—”
Hearing those words in her voice makes my stomach turn. She believes it, at least part of her does, and I’ll be damned if I let him carve that poison into her again.
I cover the distance in three strides, snatch the phone from her grip. My voice is ice when I press it to my ear. “That’s enough.”
On the other end, Vander snarls. “Who the fuck is this? Who?—”
“Someone who knows you don’t talk to a woman like that.”
“I’m her fiancé,” he bellows.
“Ex-fiancé,” I fire back. “She’s done with you. Stay away from her.”
There’s a pause, then a low, deadly laugh. “Tell me your name. I want to know who I’m talking to.”
“Griffin Topete,” I say, steady as stone. “Look me up.”
And then I end the call.
Reese remains braced against the wall, arms wrapped tight around herself, as if she’s holding in all the jagged pieces. Her face is pale, eyes wide, and it guts me.
I tuck the phone into my pocket and frame her face with my palms, tipping her chin until her gaze meets mine. “You okay, belleza?”
Her throat works. “I forgot how awful he always made me feel.”
I pull her against me, one arm around her shoulders, the other stroking her hair. “You’ll never feel that way again. Not with me.”
She sags into me, but her voice trembles. “I hope so. But Vander isn’t the type of man who takes no for an answer.”
It takes the rest of the afternoon—and three squares of maple pecan fudge—to finally coax a genuine smile out of Reese. Even then, it flickers and fades like she’s still hearing Vander’s voice in the back of her mind.
So, I keep trying. A wine sampler at a cozy little bar. A selection of cheddars from the local shop. A dozen dumb jokes earning nothing but eye rolls. By the time the sky turns navy and the street lamps glow, I know I need something stronger than sugar and cheese.
That’s how we end up at a hole-in-the-wall karaoke bar, tucked between a pawnshop and a nail salon. The place smells like spilled beer and fried food, the crowd already loose and rowdy. Reese relaxes the second we walk in, laughter sparking every time one of the locals butchers a ballad.
Then she nudges me toward the stage. “Go on. I want to hear my favorite cowboy sing.”
I arch a brow. “You trying to make me get up there?”
“Damn right.” Her eyes gleam in the neon glow.
A laugh rumbles out of me. “So you’re showing me off now?”
“Absolutely.” She squeezes my hand, the corners of her mouth quirking upward. “As long as they all know you’re mine.”
So I do it. Two songs, my voice rough but steady, and every time I glance down, she’s watching me like I hung the damn moon. By the time I make it back to our table, my lady is beaming.
She catches my hands in hers before I can sit. “Thank you for being you.”
“Always.”
Her gaze lingers, thoughtful now. “So… have you given any more thought to what I brought up at breakfast?”
I drag in a breath, my fingers rubbing my neck. “Reese, I hate the idea of taking money from you.”
She leans closer, brows lifted. “Hey. This isn’t me giving you money. This is for us.”
Her words knock the wind right out of me.
“You really want to help me?” I ask.
“Absolutely,” she replies without hesitation. “Look how much you’ve helped me, Griffin. Let me do this for you.”
I swallow hard, studying her face. She means it. Every word. “Okay,” I whisper. “For our future.”
Her thumb strokes across my knuckles, steady and sure. “I’ll call tomorrow. See whether it makes more sense to draw from the annuity or the 401k.” She says it so casually, like she’s ordering groceries, but her eyes are fierce when they meet mine.
“You’re really sure?”
I can hardly believe that this time, things are working out.
“You are the first thing in this world I’m sure of,” she tells me.
It’s not exactly an I love you. But sitting here, her hands wrapped around mine, her smile unguarded, it feels like something better.