Page 32 of The Temporary Fiancée
“Why don’t we go window shopping, all three of us?” she suggests. “It’ll be fun.”
“We can send the photos to Reed,” Riley says. “That way he can still pick something you like,andyou get to have a fun day out. What do you say?”
I consider for a few seconds. I hadn’t even thought about the wedding preparations at all—until now. I guess, in a way,planning a wedding—being Reed’s fiancé—is my one and only job for the next six months. I might as well throw myself into it.
“Sure,” I decide. “That sounds nice.”
We emerge from the bedroom, making plans to meet up and go to some jewelry stores sometime in the next few weeks. I’m not looking forward to it nearly as much as Riley and Sophie seem to be, but at least it’s gotten them off my back a little.
Everyone lingers in Reed’s living room for another hour or so, enjoying drinks and chatting amiably. The shock of our revelation seems to have worn off, and while Riley, Sophie and I were in the bedroom, Cole and Declan seem to have gotten some of their questions answered, too; they look a lot calmer than they did earlier.
It’s almost one in the morning by the time Cole looks at his watch and glances over at Riley. “We should probably go,” he says apologetically. “Have you seen the time?”
Riley checks her phone, then yelps when she sees the hour. “Oh, no—we’re an hour late. Poor Kerry.”
“Sorry, guys,” Cole says, clapping Reed on the shoulder. “We have to go relieve the babysitter. She’s been a good enough sport as it is—we told her we’d be home by midnight.”
Noah leaves with them, taking them up on a ride home, since he lives right next door to the Sullivan household. Declan, Sophie, and Shane only linger for a little while longer, and depart within ten minutes.
After the penthouse was so full earlier, it now feels starkly empty by comparison. I realize, with a sudden jolt of anxiety, that I’m alone with Reed.
We sit awkwardly in the living room, on two different couches. For at least five minutes, we’re both completely silent, each of us trying to think of what to say to the other.
I catch Reed looking at me a few times, and he catches me looking at him. None of that makes this any easier. There’s a palpable tension in the room.
This is going to be harder to adjust to than I thought.Maybe the first night will be the hardest,I think desperately.I mean, you just hooked up last night, and now you’re suddenly living together. There’s gotta be a learning curve for a situation like that.
Abruptly, Reed gets to his feet and downs the remainder of his brandy. “I’m pretty tired after all that,” he says, with an exaggerated yawn. “I don’t know about you, but?—”
“Me, too,” I say quickly, gratefully latching onto his exit. “I should probably get some sleep.”
Reed collects our glasses and brings them into his kitchen, and I start down the hall, pausing in the doorway.
“Good night,” I say. As soon as I say it, I feel even more awkward, heat rising in my face.Is this ever going to feel normal?
Reed’s frozen behind the kitchen counter, staring at me for a long moment. Then he nods. “Yeah. Good night.”
My heart pounding in my temples, I hurry back down the long hallway and close myself into the guest room—my one refuge in this penthouse. The bedroom walls are soundproof, and I finally feel alone, despite the city skyline right outside my window.
Still… there was something invigorating about being alone with Reed, and even though I can’t see or hear him anymore, I almost wish I could.
Was that the cause of the tension? Not the normal awkwardness of sharing a space for the first time—not our proximity, but the distance between us. A shiver goes down my spine as I realize what the real problem was.
I don’t feel awkward around Reed, I feel awkward walking away from him. Some part of both of us wanted to do the same thing we did last night.
But we can’t. That’s not the arrangement. If this is going to work, we need to get used to things this way.
I get undressed, hanging the beautiful gown in the closet, and stare at it for a few moments. He really outdid himself with this. It’s gorgeous—the most beautiful dress I’ve ever owned, by far.
I find myself wondering how much it must have cost him. It’s a ridiculous thing to wonder. All I have to do is look around myself, at the minimalist design of the room, the art on the walls, the plush sheets and stunning view. Of course, it was jaw-droppingly expensive.
The thought makes me feel like my insides are churning. I try to tell myself that this was less a gift for me than it was part of the deal Reed and I made.
I put on an old T-shirt and shorts, then climb into the bed. Even though it’s late, I sit up knitting for around half an hour. It’s part of my nightly routine, and I want things to feel as normal as possible. If I knit in this new room, that makes it feel like my own. Not everything has to change.
Right?
I don’t make much progress on my scarf, but I set it aside after a while in the interest of getting some rest. I lie back, sinking into the down pillows. This bed is a far cry from the cheap sheets and mattress I ordered off the internet. I’ve never been so comfortable in my life.
