Page 90 of Imperfect Match (Imperfect Match 1)
I just have to figure out a way to get her back.
Twenty-Five
Willow
The day after I ran into Reid in the elevator feels endless. It’s Friday, but the prospect of the weekend means nothing to me anymore. There’s no hope of anything being fun without Reid.
I work late, desperate for the distraction, and walk home about seven, pulling my coat tighter around me in the chilly autumn darkness. In my shoulder bag is the slip of paper with Aspen’s writing on it—number 4347. All day long, I kept thinking of picking up the phone and making the call, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I want it to feel fun and exciting, and right now I’m incapable of those feelings.
First thing Monday, I promise myself. That’s when I’ll call.
In the lobby of my building, I hold my breath as the elevator doors open. I don’t want to see him and have to cross paths, wondering where he’s off to on a Friday night. What if he’s dressed up for a date? What if he’s freshly shaven? What if he’s wearing cologne? The thought of him preparing to spend time with another woman makes me insane with jealousy.
But the doors open, and he isn’t there.
I’m both relieved and disappointed. I miss his eyes and his smile and his hands and his smell and—just everything. Being in the elevator with him yesterday was torture.
The doors open on my floor, and the hall is empty and quiet. With a heavy sigh, I make my way toward my door. While I’m standing there digging out my keys, I can hear the TV on in Reid and Leo’s apartment, but the weird thing is, I hear music coming from mine. Did I leave something on?
Frowning, I put my ear up to the door, and sure enough, I hear Dean Martin crooning away in there. What the hell?
I let myself in, and the first thing that hits me is a delectable aroma—it smells like an Italian restaurant. Tomatoes and garlic and fresh bread and oregano. My mouth waters immediately, even as my brain tries to make sense of it. Am I on the wrong floor?
Panicked t
hat I somehow managed to let myself into the wrong apartment, I glance around, but the furniture is mine.
That’s when Reid comes out of the kitchen, carrying a board full of charcuterie. “Oh! You’re home! I didn’t hear you come in.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. He’s wearing an apron over his button-down. It’s red and says CAUTION: Extremely Hot.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“Cooking you dinner.” He walks over to the coffee table and sets the board down next to an open bottle of wine and two empty glasses I hadn’t noticed before.
“Why?” My heart has started to pound. Is this for real?
“Because we’re celebrating.” He comes around the couch and takes my hands. “At least, I hope we are.”
“Reid, I’m feeling a little lost here.” I shake my head. “What on earth would we be celebrating?”
“The future. Our future.”
“We have a future?”
“Of course we do.” He presses his lips to mine before I can stop him. “And in our future, I make meatballs for you!”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” I shake off his hands and move away from him. “This isn’t okay, Reid. I’ve spent the last week drowning in tears because you walked out on us. You can’t just waltz in here with meatballs and Dean Martin and make it all better. Someday maybe we can be friends again, but I’m not there yet.”
“I don’t want to be friends, Willow.” Reid moves close enough to take my face in his hands. “I want more. I want it all. And I want it forever.”
I’m almost scared to ask, but I have to. “What do you mean, you want it all? What’s all?”
“I want to be all the things you deserve—a husband, a father, the love of your life.” He kisses me again. “I love you, Wills. I can’t go one more day without you.”
Behind him the room is spinning. “But what about what you said before? I thought you never wanted to get married or have kids.”
“I didn’t think I did. But I think a lot of that was fear—I was scared I’d fail and you’d end up hating me, resenting me for everything I’m not. But I’m not afraid anymore.”
