Page 50 of The Temporary Fiancée
I drag in a breath, then let it out on a long, silent count as I try to tame my out-of-control heart rate. If I dwell on that question too long, I’ll end up locking myself in this bathroom forever and never coming out, so I shove it out of my mind and turn off the water before stepping out of the shower. I let my wet hair fall over my shoulders to air dry, throwing on a t-shirt and jeans. I also store the vibrator in the drawer next to the bed, just in case I need it again soon.
The way this has been going so far, it’s going to see alotof use.
When I enter the kitchen, Reed is sitting at the counter with a plate of fresh-made eggs and bacon and a glass of orange juice.
“Good morning,” I mumble, self-conscious.
“Good morning,” he says. He gestures to the stove, where there’s an identical plate waiting for me—a few slices of bacon and two eggs, over medium. Just how I like them. “There’s breakfast over there for you, if you want it.”
“Thanks,” I say. Internally, I breathe a little sigh of relief. Reed’s being… normal. There’s nothing in his tone to indicate that he overheard me in the shower. I was probably just being paranoid. He didn’t notice.
As I take the plate and turn back to the counter, though, our gazes meet. His eyes are hot on me, and his voice low as he says, “Did you have a good shower?”
Okay. He definitely heard me.
I don’t knowwhathe heard, exactly—I’m still not sure what came out of my mouth—but he heard enough to give him some idea of what happened.
Fuck.
I open my mouth, then close it.You have to answer him!I chastise myself.Or this is so much more awkward than it needs to be!
After a moment, I manage to stammer, “Um… yeah. Yes. I love the… the water pressure. In your apartment. It’s very…”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Firm?Strong?”
It’s all I can do not to collapse on his floor and die from shame. Without elaborating, I stuff my mouth full of eggs. I manage to avoid Reed’s gaze as I finish my food in three bites, then rush off to the foyer. I snatch up my keys from the hall table and bolt into the elevator.
The doors close on me, and I lean against the back of the elevator, watching the numbers tick down. I screw my eyes shut, humiliated.
I can’t be around him. He kills every rational brain cell left in my head.
Luckily, I had plans today anyway. Now that I’m away from Reed, and the hurricane in my mind has calmed down, I’m able to think up a line to give him later, an explanation for my flight from his apartment:I was running late to meet up with the girls.
It’s almost true. Almost.
I’m actually five minutes early to our brunch spot, a little bistro on Fifth. Sophie and Riley both arrive after I do, joining me at the table.
Over the course of the subway ride over, and the two-block walk to the restaurant, I’ve managed to collect myself, so they don’t realize that anything’s wrong.
“Hey!” Riley says brightly, sliding into the booth next to me. “Long time no see. What have you been up to?”
“Fretting over my parents,” I reply, giving her a warm smile. “Knitting a scarf three miles long. The usual. How about you guys?”
Riley tells me about a painting of hers that she just managed to sell to a gallery. She sounds proud, and she should be.
Painting is just a hobby for Riley. But over the past few months, her work has improved in leaps and bounds, thanks to her new art studio in the house she shares with Cole and the time she has on her hands now that she’s not pulling double restaurant shifts. She seems happier than I’ve ever seen her.
And Sophie mentions a new project at work, with the potential for a promotion on the horizon. There’s anticipation in her voice as she speaks, but it’s the good kind—she’s excited, and focused.
Privately, I wish I had the same bedrock that the two of them do, the sense of security that undergirds everything they’re talking about.
The waiter swings by to take our orders, and we all enjoy fresh coffee, mimosas, and French toast. I let Riley and Sophie share my leftovers, since Reed already made me a decent breakfast at The Luxe.
I make an effort to lose myself in the conversation, trying to take my mind off of the awkwardness from this morning. I’m sure that by the time I come home, he’ll have forgotten about everything, and things will be exactly like they were before.
Yeah,the cynical part of my mind adds.And he’ll find some new way to get under your skin after that. It’s what Reed does.
I manage to push the thought away. Until we step out of the bistro.
