Chapter 27 #2
“They don’t need to hear about that one,” I interrupt quickly.
“Sounds like a wealth of information,” Declan says, grinning broadly. “Where to begin?”
“Well, I’m saving all the best ones for my fake engagement party toasts.” Shane takes a quick puff from his cigar, the tip glowing orange.
“Of course, of course.”
I top off my whiskey and breathe in deeply, relaxing in the haze of cigar smoke and friendly banter. I’m surprised by how well Shane fits in with the group—and surprised to find myself enjoying his company.
It’s been a while since I’ve spent time with Shane outside of work, and away from the negative influence of the rest of my family. I’d almost forgotten what he was like in a social setting: laid back, quieter than most, but with a wry, biting sense of humor.
The conversation flows easily. The embarrassing stories about me last for at least an hour, though it’s nothing too terrible. After that, the guys move on to different topics, like Cole’s upcoming wedding.
As he explains something about the venue, my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a text from Olivia.
OLIVIA: How’s your night going? *smiley face emoji*
ME: Not bad. How was dinner? You guys still there?
OLIVIA: No, we left a while ago
OLIVIA: Went out to a bar
ME: Sounds fun. Having a good night?
OLIVIA: We’re having a lot of fun but
OLIVIA: We got catcalled outside, and then some assholes were trying to hit on us.
For an instant, as I read her message, my blood pressure spikes. Jealousy flares in me, hot and ready, and I have to take a second before I can respond.
ME: Are they still there? Are you okay?
OLIVIA: No they’re gone. All good, don’t worry.
I breathe a sigh of relief, but the irritated, envious feeling in my chest still won’t fade. It’s obvious that Olivia and the others rebuffed the strangers, but still, I don’t like the idea of anyone flirting with her.
ME: I hope you told them you were spoken for.
OLIVIA: Yeah, of course, I showed them the ring
OLIVIA: They backed off real quicj
OLIVIA: quick lol
ME: Good.
ME: But if you ever need me to defend your honor, I’m down. *winking emoji*
OLIVIA: Oh, right… just like you did with Keller.
ME: Exactly like that.
OLIVIA: What if one of them challenged you to a fight. What would you do?
ME: Easy. I’d win.
OLIVIA: Oh yeah?
ME: Uhhh have you seen me? I’m 6’3”. What are they gonna do?
OLIVIA: Ok, well wjat if one of them was 6’4”?
ME: Simple, I would use my smaller size to my advantage.
ME: I have lightning reflexes.
OLIVIA: lol of coursse you dooo
Based on the typos in Olivia’s messages, I think it’s safe to assume she’s pretty drunk. I smile fondly at my phone for a few moments, then look up at the other guys.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt a good thing, but do you guys think we might want to go pick up the girls?”
Declan raises an eyebrow quizzically. “Is something up?”
“According to Olivia, they’re at a bar somewhere. Seems like they’re having a fun night. I just want to make sure they get home safe.”
Cole nods. “Sure thing. It’s getting late, anyway. This place is gonna close soon, and I’d rather not get kicked out.”
“You’re texting Olivia?” Declan shoots me a sly grin.
I roll my eyes and make a big show of scoffing, like this is all a huge joke to me. “Uh, yeah. Obviously. She’s my fiancée, man.”
Noah, Cole, and Declan laugh, but I can feel Shane’s gaze fixed on me, more analytical than the others—almost like he can see right through me.
“Let’s go find them,” I say, avoiding his scrutiny. I get to my feet, and the others follow suit.
Shane calls one of the family’s drivers to come pick him up, and Noah simply hails a cab at the street. They both bid us goodnight as they leave, and Cole, Declan, and I busy ourselves trying to find the bar that Olivia and the girls ended up at.
After a few lengthy text conversations, we manage to get an answer: a place called Studio Five. It’s walking distance, so we don’t even bother to call one of our drivers, heading over on foot.
When we arrive, we quickly find the ladies. They’re huddled around a little bar table in the corner, laughing their asses off over a joke we just missed.
As we approach, Olivia is the first to notice us. The second she sees me, her face lights up in glee, and she exclaims, “Reed! What are you doing here?”
“We came to pick you up,” I say. “Thought you might need some—” I break off abruptly as she tackles me in a hug.
Her hair, which was tied in a neat bun earlier in the night, has come down and is loose around her shoulders. Her face is a little flushed at the tops of her cheeks, and she leans against me more than she normally would, swaying as I steady her.
Yeah, she’s pretty drunk. In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her this drunk before, not even at the engagement party where we hooked up.
She seems like a happy drunk, though—she’s giggly, grinning, clearly enjoying herself. “You didn’t have to come,” she says, slurring her words a bit. “We were gonna be fine.”
“We were gonna be fine,” Riley offers, shooting me a wink. I can’t help but notice that, while both she and Sophie also have empty glasses in front of themselves, neither of them seems as drunk as Olivia. “Don’t worry. We had a plan to get home safe.”
“You don’t need a plan anymore,” Cole says, taking Riley’s hand. He plants a kiss on the top of her head, and I feel something strange in my gut for a brief instant, almost like envy. Then it fades as Olivia grabs my wrist, hanging off of me.
“Did you have a fun night?” I ask, grinning.
“So fun,” she answers, blinking up at me. “The best. Did you?”
“Yeah. It was pretty nice.”
Declan, Cole and I each text our drivers to call for cars. Mine is the first to arrive at the curb outside the bar, which is a relief—I can’t help but be a little vigilant about paparazzi, since we’re out on the town.
Of course, Olivia is playing her part to a tee right now. She’s pressed up against me while we wait, all smiles. I just don’t want anyone to take pictures of her while she’s drunk.
As soon as we’re in the car, I roll up the partition between us and the driver, giving us some privacy in case Olivia’s feeling chatty.
She doesn’t seem to want to talk, though. Pretty soon after we leave the bar, she’s already trying to climb into my lap.
“That’s not safe,” I chide her gently. “You should have your seatbelt buckled.”
She sticks her lower lip out in a comical pout. “Seriously? You’re gonna lecture me about… seatbelts?”
“I said I’d get you home safe, remember?”
“I’ll be safe.” She sits in my lap, then pulls my arms around herself. “You’ll be my seatbelt, won’t you?”
God, she’s so fucking cute.
Already, I can feel my body responding to her. She shakes her ass a little as she adjusts her position, and immediately, my cock starts to twitch. I want nothing more than to take her right here, right now, in the backseat of this town car—and I get the sense that she wants exactly the same thing.
But I wouldn’t fuck her when she’s this drunk. Instead, I just hold her, letting her lean against me. A few times, I feel her breath on my cheek; her lips graze the top of my ear. She seems to be waiting for me to react, but I behave myself for the drive.
The second we step into the foyer of the penthouse, she grabs me by the front of my shirt, stands on tiptoe, and kisses me.
It’s a soft, quick kiss, but I follow it up with another—I can’t help kissing her back. It’s all I could think about for the whole drive.
Heat courses through me, flowing between us. Then, abruptly, it’s cut off.
She pulls back. I blink, trying to reorient myself, and notice a little too late that there are tears falling down her cheeks.
“Hey,” I say softly, confused, “no, don’t cry. What’s wrong?”
She sniffs, shaking her head, and brushes away a few tears with the back of one hand. Her gaze drops to the ground, like she’s embarrassed. “Nothing.”
It’s clearly not nothing—and whatever it is, it makes me feel like shit. She was so happy and having so much fun tonight. The last thing I want is to see her upset.
I pick her up by the waist and set her down on the kitchen counter, standing between her legs. “I mean it. What’s wrong?”
Her lips purse, and she won’t look me in the eye. Mutely, she shakes her head again.
I reach up to brush a loose lock of her hair behind her ear. “Please tell me.”
She takes a long breath in through her nose, then exhales. “I like you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I can’t help it.”
I freeze with my hand on her cheek, staring at her.
“I tried not to, but I really, really do.” She sniffles, swiping at her eyes. “Which sucks. Because we have an expiration date.” She laughs through her tears, but I can tell that there’s no humor behind it. “Because this is all for show. It’s not even real.”
My chest aches at the raw emotion in her voice. For what feels like a full minute, I stand in front of her, silent, trying to process everything she just said.
The first coherent thought I manage to put together is I’m not cut out for this.
I’m not boyfriend material. I’m not qualified to be the caretaker of her heart, and she’s confessing real, true, vulnerable feelings.
It scares the shit out of me.
But I can’t tell her that. So instead, I murmur, “What can I do? How can I help?”
She doesn’t respond right away. Then she pulls me forward and burrows closer to my chest. In a small voice, she says, “Can you… can you just hold me tonight?”
I feel a flutter in my ribcage, alongside the ache. I run my fingers through her hair, trying to soothe her. Trying to make her feel safe, even though I’m silently panicking.
“Okay,” I say at last.
I carry her to my bedroom and help her change into a pair of my sweats and a soft, faded t-shirt. She sits on the edge of the bed, still a little wobbly and a little weepy, as I use a warm, damp towel to wipe away the last traces of her makeup.
Then I lay her down on the bed and crawl in beside her. I take her into my arms, cocooning her body in my own, and hold her.
My nose is nestled in her hair, and I quietly breathe in her sweet scent as she drifts off to sleep. As her breathing becomes more rhythmic, I can’t stop myself from thinking, This feels right.
Holy shit.
It feels right to have her here.