Page 158 of The Temporary Fiancée
“Reed,” he mutters, once he recovers from the surprise. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“I didn’t,” I chuckle. “You’re just too wound-up, man. Chill.”
“Here?” He raises an eyebrow, glancing back at the crowd of well-dressed, uptight guests our parents have assembled. “Not exactly the best place to ‘chill.’”
“Okay,” I concede, nodding. “Fair enough.”
“That’s Olivia’s family, isn’t it?” Shane gestures with his wine glass toward the Quinns, who are talking animatedly to each other. I find myself smiling involuntarily as I watch Olivia saying something to her father.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Do they know?”
“Know what?”
“About your situation,” Shane says. “With their daughter. You know.”
I don’t respond right away. I’m trying to dig up the words, readying myself for the confession. After a moment, I say, “Honestly, at this point…youdon’t even know about our situation.”
“Oh?” Shane raises a curious eyebrow, taking a sip of wine.
I haven’t usually confided in my brother; our relationship has been fairly distant, particularly for the past few years, even though we work in proximity to each other. It’s just the way that my family has always been, both in and out of the office.
But lately, Shane and I have been getting a little closer. Over the past few months, I’ve started to notice that he’s in my corner when my parents aren’t—that we seem to be on the same side of every conflict.
So I decide to take the plunge.
“Actually,” I confess, “things have sort of… taken a turn between us.”
“What kind of turn?”
“I’m… I’m serious about her.”
“Serious? What do you mean,serious?”
“I mean that this isn’t just a PR stunt to me. Not anymore.” I watch Olivia and her parents as they make their way across the party, over toward the bar. “This started out with contract negotiations, and now… well, it’s a lot more than that.”
“Wait…” A slow, uncharacteristic smile spreads across Shane’s face—a genuine look of delight, which is rare for him. “You’re actually falling for her?”
I nod, turning back to the windows, and Shane huffs a quiet laugh. He claps a hand on my shoulder.
“Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Me, neither,” I admit. “But here we are.”
“To be honest with you,” he says, “I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out. I’m just glad it wasbeforethe deadline.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t try to act like you knew that we?—”
“Knew that youwhat?” My father’s voice, as cold and sharp as ice, cuts between us like a bullet.
Shane freezes in place, shooting me a guilty, apologetic look. Behind him, Lionel approaches, his hands folded behind his back. From his scowl and stiff posture, it’s clear that he heard at least some of our conversation.
“Merry Christmas, Reed,” my father says, giving Shane no more acknowledgment than a curt nod. “Can I have a word with you?”
“Of course,” I say uneasily.
“In private,” he adds, reaching out to press his hand against my shoulder.
