Page 37 of Desk & Deception
“Yeah, except we both know this isn’t really over.”
“Then take it slow,” she suggested. “Start dating again if you want to keep the door open. But be sure to tell Reid I haven’t decided against kicking his ass yet, so he’d better be on his best behavior.”
“Thanks, Kinsley.”
She shrugged off my gratitude before launching into a story about the soup restaurant she found the other day, which she insisted had the best cream of mushroom soup she’d ever tasted.
After we hung up, I sat on the edge of my bed and thought about her suggestion. I wasn’t ready to jump back in with both feet, but I also didn’t want to close the door completely. Taking it slow felt right.
I picked up my phone and texted Reid.
Me
Would you like to go on a dinner date sometime this week?
His reply came almost immediately.
Reid
How about tonight?
His obvious excitement made me smile.
Me
Sure, but you’re not picking me up.
I knew that would irritate him since he’d driven to all of our dates unless we were spontaneously meeting up, but it felt important to me.
Reid
I’ll take you any way I can get you, baby.
As we planned where to meet, I felt a cautious but genuine spark of hope.
18
REID
The past month had been made up of so many careful steps forward.
We met for lunch at the food truck she loved near the studio. We sat in my car with the windows down, eating messy tacos and laughing about the ridiculous demands one of the actresses had made that day. In the middle of one of her stories, my phone rang. I silenced it without thinking and set it face down on the console, then continued our conversation as if nothing had happened. But I saw the approving gleam in her pretty eyes and knew I was making progress.
We spent a lazy Sunday brunch at a small café with outdoor seating, sharing plates and talking about nothing and everything at the same time.
Kinsley returned home, and I met both of them for coffee one afternoon. Lila’s best friend interrogated me mildly but thoroughly, making it very clear what would happen if I hurt her again.
One evening, she called me after a rough day instead of suffering alone. I listened while she vented about a difficultshoot, then quietly drove over with her favorite takeout so she wouldn’t have to cook.
Lila even came to a family dinner with my parents. My mom was visibly thrilled, and my dad gave me an approving nod across the table.
These new habits weren’t just to win points. They were becoming natural because I wanted to show up for her. I was finally learning how to put her first. And this version of us felt better than it ever had before, even if we still hadn’t put a name on it.
I pulled up to Lila’s house bright and early on Saturday morning. This was the first time she had let me pick her up since the breakup. It felt significant, and I wasn’t going to take that for granted.
She stepped outside wearing a soft sundress that showed off her legs. Climbing out of the car, I smiled as she approached me. “Good morning, baby.”
“It might be too early to call it good. I didn’t get to sleep in,” she grumbled.
