Page 32 of Desk & Deception
“Yeah, on Sunday after I left.” He nodded. “How was your week?”
We fell into the easy kind of conversation that we used to have all the time. Where he really listened to what I had to say.
I told him about a few funny stories from my last project, then found myself saying, “Serena recommended me for a show that just got greenlit. Thirteen episodes, plus a strong chance for a back-nine order with the star power of the cast. Filmed with a live audience, so it’d mean sixteen-hour Fridays for me, but I could still take on other projects, and the pay is great.”
“Congratulations, Lila. That’s huge.”
I shook my head. “Not really.”
“Yes, really.” He reached out to pat my hand, the first time he’d touched me since I ended our engagement. I was startled to find the zing was still there. “Is it something you want to do?”
I was surprised by the question, since he would’ve asked if it was a good opportunity in the past. “Yeah, I haven’t done a live audience show before, and it sounds like fun.”
“Then you should go for it.”
“Maybe I will.” I lifted my cup to hide my small smile over how well this was going.
As we continued to chat, he didn’t steer the conversation back to himself, offer solutions, or turn it into something about us. He just listened, his focus wholly on me while I talked.
I couldn’t remember the last time I talked this much without being interrupted. And I even laughed, forgetting for a moment that we were sitting here because our relationship had fallen apart.
But then his phone rang on the table between us, and I braced myself for the interruption when Julian’s name flashed across the screen. In the past, old Reid would have answered the managing partner’s call without hesitation, already halfway into work mode before the first ring finished.
Instead, he glanced at the screen, silenced the call with a quiet tap, and placed the phone face down on the table.
“Sorry.” He met my gaze again. “You were saying?”
That small action threw me off balance. I lost my train of thought for a moment, staring at the back of his phone.
He had chosen to stay present. With me. Even though I would’ve understood if he’d taken Julian’s call.
The realization filled me with an unexpected warmth I wasn’t prepared for, so I turned the conversation toward him. “How are your parents?”
“Other than my mom kicking my ass for fucking things up with you, they’re awesome.”
I thought he was joking until I saw the sincerity in his dark eyes. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, my conversation with her after you walked out was the extra wake-up call I needed.” He took a sip of his coffee. “It’s not fun being a thirty-four-year-old and still needing your mom to make you see how wrong you are. It’s what got me into therapy.”
“Please give her my thanks.”
He tilted his head toward where my cell phone lay on the table. “She’d like it better if you did it yourself. She misses you.”
“I miss her, too.” My throat tightened, the admission hurting more than I expected.
His family was the opposite of mine, so warm and supportive. They’d welcomed me with open arms when Reid first introduced me to them, and it’d been hard knowing they wouldn’t be a part of my life when I gave him back the ring.
“I’m sorry I fucked that up for you both.”
I didn’t want today to be about his mistakes, so I shifted the conversation to a lighter topic. “But I don’t miss her horrible vacation suggestions, like that resort we went to in Hawaii. The beach was beautiful, but the whole place felt too pretentious. And the food was delicious, but we had to order multiple dishes each because the servings were so small.”
He tilted his head and murmured, “That’s fair. I never thought about it that way. I was so focused on how relaxing it felt that I didn’t really notice the rest.”
I expected him to defend the trip he’d surprised me with, even if we were just joking around. But his easy acceptance of my perspective was yet another example of the ways he was changing.
As we continued talking, Reid’s gaze lingered on my hand. “You okay?”
I realized I had been rubbing my wrist absentmindedly, a nervous habit I’d developed over the past week whenever my thoughts drifted too far.
