Page 34 of The Temporary Fiancée
After a long, tense moment, he says softly, “Good night, Olivia.”
“Good night,” I echo in a whisper. Then he’s gone, back to his own room.
I take a moment to steady myself before going back to my bed. I gulp down the cold water, then pour myself another glass to leave on my nightstand.
I crawl back into my bed, but sleep still doesn’t come right away. I’m viscerally aware of Reed’s presence just down the hall. Seeing him was just another reminder of him, and it’s as if I can hear him breathing right beside me.
The sun wakesme up the next day. A quick glance at the clock tells me that it’s much later than I would ordinarily wake; on an average day working for Keller, my alarm went off at seven sharp, and it’s currently almost nine-thirty.
I tried to keep my schedule more-or-less the same after I quit working for Keller. I needed the structure in my life, or I felt like I would go crazy. Plus, the two jobs I’d taken on demanded a lot of my time; I needed as much daylight as possible.
But I don’t have work today. And the next time I do, I’ll be quitting, unceremoniously. I don’t need to worry about any ofthat anymore. For the first time in what feels like years, I have the freedom to enjoy the morning.
I slide out of bed, looking out at the fantastic view for a few minutes. The city is vibrant and glowing at night, but during the day, it’s almost more impressive, crawling with activity.
I head down the hallway, into the kitchen. There’s no sign of Reed, which I was expecting. I’m assuming that he’s already headed to work.
But to my surprise, there’s a pile of folded cotton shirts on the counter. On top of the stack, there’s a yellow sticky note. Frowning, I pick up the note, my gaze scanning Reed’s handwriting.
In the future, you should probably wear these instead of your ex’s.
My eyes go wide as I realize that these are Reed’s shirts. I pick up the topmost one and unfold it, holding it up to my face. It smells like fresh laundry detergent, and beneath that, it smells like the cologne he wears.
Chapter 10
Reed
The gymat The Luxe is exclusive, private to me and my guests only. Since it has more equipment than either Declan or Cole’s home setups, I told them that they could come by whenever—and working out with other people is the best way to do it, I’ve found. It keeps me focused, and stops me from getting bored in the middle of my workout.
Today, though, my thoughts keep wandering. I’m not keeping track of my reps as well as I should be. All I can think about is Olivia.
She’s been keeping a low profile so far—since we haven’t broken the announcement yet, we don’t want the press to start speculating before we get the chance to set the narrative. That means that Olivia has been spending a lot of time in the penthouse, hanging out.
And over the past few days, I’ve realized how much I love having her in my space. Especially now that she’s wearingmyshirts to sleep, and not her stupid ex’s.
I’ve been learning her habits, picking up on her subtle, little idiosyncrasies. She leaves sticky notes everywhere, for one thing. I’ve had to replenish the pack I keep on the fridge already; she went through the remainder of them.
Some of the notes are for her, reminders to do certain things. Others are for me. Simple things, mostly. Telling me that someone called from the dry cleaner’s while I was out. Letting me know that we’re out of eggs.
I also found a horde of highlighters on my coffee table, next to a book she was reading. There were at least four different colors, all bound together with a rubber band. The pages of the book were marked up, certain lines traced in yellow, or pink, depending on… something. I haven’t figured out what her system is yet.
But I’m sure, given time, that I will.
It makes my sterile apartment feel more homey. Less depressing—like someone actually lives there, for once.
“Hey, man, are you good?” Declan’s voice jolts me out of my distracted thoughts. “You’ve done at least thirty curls.”
“It’s biceps and triceps today,” I respond automatically, blinking at him. “I just thought I would really go for it.”
“Whatever you say,” he says. He shoots a glance across the room, to where Cole is on a treadmill, cooling down from a sprint.
Cole shuts down the machine, hopping off the end and approaching us. He stops a few feet away to stretch. “How have things been going with Olivia?” he asks. “Haven’t heard anything over the past few days.”
“It’s been good,” I say. After a few seconds’ loaded silence, I admit, “You know, it’s nice having someone else around. And she’s pretty good company.”
“Right,” Declan says slowly. He and Cole exchange another glance, which concerns me a little.
“What?”
