Chapter 62 Dog Wedding #2
I have no idea what this visit is about, but it’s absolutely wonderful to see him in person after all this time spent watching him from afar. Seven months. It’s been almost seven months.
“It’s nice to see you IRL.”
He smiles freely back. “Likewise, Renee.”
“You look great.”
“You look gorgeous.”
I laugh through my 100-watt smile. “Thanks. I’m gonna circle back to what in the hell are you doing here, Reed Tyler? You get lost on your way to a meeting?”
He leads me into a slow twirl and catches my hand. “I was invited.”
I arch a brow. “Unlikely.”
“I’m Rose Thyme’s plus-one?”
“Rose Thyme? Is she a girl or a bread?”
“Am I sensing some jealousy?”
“Depends. You like her?”
“Oh yeah, she planned this whole thing.”
“Event planner?”
“Nah, writer. She’s got a show coming out on Netflix, top of next year, starts shooting in May. She just went independent with her very popular relationship podcast. Haven’t pitched her on my company yet, but I think we could really help her out.”
I snort. “Are you here to launch a business proposal?”
“Oh no, I’m here because I’m in love with her.”
My heart glows white in my chest, and the smile—oh god, it threatens to overtake my entire face. At this point I’m basically just teeth and eyes. “I thought we talked about this whole love thing.”
He grins, twirling me again as the music shifts to a Frankie Valli classic. “Oh, we did.” My dress flowers out and falls back to my legs.
“So—”
“I’m back,” Reed finishes.
I huff a hesitant laugh. “What do you mean?”
“I’m done shooting in New York. I’m moving back into my house. I’d like to ask you out.”
He grabs my hands, moving us into a rhythmic side-to-side shuffle, expanding our arms and bringing them back together with the music, as my heart loses its shit in my chest.
“Reed . . .” I stare into his twinkling eyes. “I leave for Atlanta to shoot the show in two weeks.”
The amused knot rolls up his cheek. “Move in with me.”
I choke on a laugh. “Did you not just hear me about Atlanta?”
“Apparently the only way we can test for long-term compatibility is by living together? I believe someone told me that over and over and over again last year?”
I loll my head. “Yeah, but not for two weeks, and you don’t even know if I’m dating someone.”
“Oh, I wasn’t assuming anything. I have a reputable source.”
“Who?”
“Jordyn . . . and Whitney.”
I swivel around, looking for either of them, and find them both on the floor in different spots with their significant others, staring at us. Whitney quickly looks away, but Jordyn grins and Micah shoots me a thumbs-up.
I turn back to Reed’s laser beams. “You’re not dating anyone?”
“Do you count?”
“No.”
“Then no.”
“Not Eliza?”
He laughs. “We’re friends. She dates women, Rick. She has a very public girlfriend. I guess you’re not following her on socials.”
My mouth pops open. “Oh.”
He nods. “Yeah.” He double-twirls me and catches my hip.
“So what, you show up here out of nowhere, and you’re expecting to just pick up where we left off. Pretty bold.”
“We’ve been through this.” He pulls me tight against his torso, one hand firm against my lower back, and hovers his mouth over my ear. “I’m obnoxiously confident.” He coaxes us side to side, in beat with the song. “Will you go out with me? We’re overdue for an official fourth date.”
A disbelieving laugh flies out of me.
I want to say yes. I want to say yes with every fiber of my being, but we’re just going to end up doing long distance again.
He arches a brow. “What would you say if you weren’t leaving for Atlanta in two weeks?”
Heat winds up my spine. “I’d say fuck yes, Reed, I’ve missed you every goddamn day. I feel like you’re mine, and I know that’s not true, and it’s bad to say, but I hate thinking about anyone else with you.” His hands slip down to the grooves of my hips, and his fingers tighten possessively.
“I am yours,” he says.
I swallow hard as my body lights in response. Our lips are an inch apart, and it’s taking all my willpower to hold the space.
“What’s next right now for you?” I ask, desperate for a less depressing topic.
“Well, the book just sold—”
I pull back, beaming at him. “Oh my god, Reed! Congratulations!”
“—and I’m going to Atlanta in two weeks.”
I blink, processing that. “Wait, what?”
“I got a job there.”
I stop dancing as my heart rate picks up, thumping against my chest so hard it’s all I can hear for a good five seconds. “What . . . what job?”
“You remember how I was on that improv team back in the day with the host of Attached at the Hip and now Oh Brother Audio produces their podcast?”
“Uh . . . yeah?”
“The cohost of the podcast—do you remember her name is Dawn?”
My jaw unhinges as I work to connect the dots. Dawn cohosts the Attached at the Hip podcast?
“She was also in that improv group. We’re also friends.”
I bulge my eyes as he tugs me back into motion, and we start our millionth circle around the floor. “Are you talking about my Dawn? Coproducer and writer Dawn on Love Today?”
“That Dawn.”
“What?”
“She thought I’d be great in one of the parts on the new show she was looking to cast.”
I grip his wrists. “You’re shitting me.”
“I auditioned two months ago at the office.”
“No you didn’t! Why didn’t you tell me? Why haven’t I seen your name?”
“I asked if she could do me a favor and use a pseudonym on the audition sheets for now.”
“A pseudonym for your fucking pseudonym?”
He grins. “Exactly. We had lunch. I told her what was going on with us. She said it’d be her pleasure to help me out, so I could tell you myself.”
I am in shock. My jaw is on the floor. I feel like I just got hit by a truck. But like in a good way. Where I didn’t die or get hurt. I am shook to my very core.
“What are you telling me? Are you in the main cast, and I don’t fucking know about it?”
“I’m playing the show equivalent of Micah.”
I gasp, yanking my hands up to my face to cover my open mouth as tears flood my eyes.
“No, you’re not,” I blurt.
“Yes, I am.”
“You’re coming to Atlanta with me for the next . . . five months?”
He shrugs, smiling. “If you’ll have me.”
My body is shuddering. This is too much. This is not real. This is too good. I glance up at the tent. Do I really get to have this?
Reed pulls me back to him and holds me against his chest. “I thought you were doing movies now?” I croak.
“Rikki, I’ve spent the last six months rearranging my life because I want to walk it in lockstep with you, even if it means taking a longer route to wherever we’re going.”
I’m high. Floating. Levitating as we speak. “And what if it doesn’t work out?” I say it with a huge smile because something in me knows it will. I’ve never had a gut feeling as strong as I do in this moment, contradicting the words coming out of my mouth.
He smirks, pulling back so he can look me in the face. “It’s gonna work out.”
“Confident, bordering on cocky.”
“The universe is on our side.”
I try to purse my lips. It’s borderline painful with the smile situation I’m dealing with. “What makes you say that?”
“I’ve been being stalked by a journal that says it knows you, since September?” My eyes bulge. “Looks a lot like the one you got in the goody bag at Willem’s wedding. Ring a bell?”
I gawk at him. “No shit.” Shake my head. “No. Way. You’re in the creepy journal club?”
He bites his smile down. “Oh, so you do know it?”
We’ve stopped moving, mid-dance floor, standing together, in hold. “Oh yeah, that thing’s been helping us out for a while. Have you used it?”
“I have.”
“Nasty side effects.”
“Nakedness was a surprise. You really were thinking on your feet when that happened.”
I snort. “I really was. Where’d you go that first time?”
“To you.” He tugs us back into the music, twirling me into a quick burst of pirouettes as I gape some more.
“What! When?” I bleat mid-spin. I stop myself with a hand on his chest. “How could you deny me the satisfaction of making fun of you for also being an accidental streaker!”
“The morning of the Elizabeth Ross premiere. I was flying out that day anyway—”
“Oh my god.”
“What?”
“That morning there was a naked guy! Were you the creepy naked guy in our bushes?”
He pffts.
“I couldn’t see any details, just the outline of a naked guy! I emailed the HOA about you.”
Laughter rumbles through him. “A good Samaritan in your parking lot lent me their cell, and I got Oliver to pick me up.”
“I’m so sad you didn’t come to me.”
He renders his expression back to a chill grin. (He’s so talented.) “We were still in our awkward gray breakup era. I needed to show up looking impressive, not huddling naked in a bush.”
I shake my head. “Reed, I’m sure you’re already aware of this, but you look very impressive naked.”
He rolls his eyes back into his head, before abruptly twirling me twice, catching me over his arm, and whipping me back up to his chest.
“I used it to come out here and audition three times for the Love Today role. And once to see my brother. I knew I couldn’t come to you until I had a solid plan in place. But good news: All-knowing stalker journal says we can use the last four jumps together.”
A bordering manic laugh spills out of me. “This is wild. What is happening!”
Reed tips his forehead to mine as he sways us side to side. “What do you say, Romona? Are you in?”
“In, as in moving in?”
He chuckles. “In, as in moving in.”
I wind my arms around his neck. “If we do this, we do it full force. No secrets. No rules. No compartmentalizing.”
“Renee.” Reed’s voice dips low as his fingers slide back into my hip bones and squeeze. “I’m so excited for full force.”
“You’re going to have to meet all my people.”
He’s grinning harder than I’ve ever seen him grin. “I so look forward to it.”
“I’m going to introduce you as my boyfriend.”
“Thrilled to have my title back.”
I slide my nose over his. “You’re going to have to join the WWU.”
“That’s all I’ve wanted this whole time. I’ve been playing the long con.”
I chuckle a centimeter from his mouth as “Good Luck, Babe!” comes over the speakers. “And you’re coming back to my place tonight.”
He tugs me flush against his torso, smiling as he moves our hips slowly from left to right. “So, I’m hearing a yes on the moving in?”
I micronod, dipping my forehead into his. “R. Tyler. I am so obnoxiously in love with you.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. “Thank the fucking Disney gods, you finally said it.”
I explode into a cloud of gold confetti as our mouths collide.
[Rikki Romona: Thirty-plus, almost not single, dies of happiness dancing to Chappell Roan at dog wedding dressed as dalmatian when man she hasn’t seen in seven months asks her to move in with him with zero pretense. Swept off feet. Not at all creeped out.]