Page 87 of The Temporary Fiancée
Reed sets down his silverware; his fork hits the plate with a clatter, drawing attention from the tables next to ours. Cecily shuffles in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with the scrutiny on the family, but Reed doesn’t seem to care. He’s too angry.
Lionel doesn’t match Reed’s explosive fury, but I can see the rage simmering in his eyes. The two of them are no strangers to being at odds.
“Careful,” Lionel warns. “Remember—I’ve been around the block more than a few times. You’re new to this, Reed. I have experience with?—”
“Oh, stop,” Reed interrupts, exasperated. “You don’t know Olivia like I do. We agreed that I got to decide who to enter this arrangement with, and I chose her. You’re just pissed thatImade the decision. You were going to be pissed no matter what I did—but I’m not going to let you treat her like shit.”
I’m shocked by how direct he is, but Lionel doesn’t seem surprised—only annoyed. He narrows his eyes. “Don’t forget which side your bread is buttered on,” he mutters, just loud enough to be heard across the table. “This wasmyidea.”
Reed stands abruptly, his hands curled into fists. “That’s enough.”
“Um, Reed?” Tentatively, I tug at his sleeve.
“Come on.” He turns away from the table. “We’re leaving. If they want to talk shit, they can do it behind our backs like everyone else.”
None of the Eastwoods make any move to stop us as I follow Reed through the restaurant, doing my best to avoid the stares from the surrounding tables. I glance back over my shoulder and catch Shane’s eye for a moment; he doesn’t look surprised, just disappointed, though I can’t tell whether that disappointment is directed at Reed or at their parents.
Reed storms past the host’s stand, and I follow in his wake, flustered. As we leave the restaurant, he takes a few deep breaths of the cool evening air.
“Are you okay?” I ask timidly, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm.
He nods, but I can tell he’s furious. His lips are pursed, his eyes blazing with anger. Some small part of me is overwhelmed that he can feel such anger on my behalf.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he glances back at the line next to the restaurant—there are still at least a dozen people waiting to get tables.
“Come on,” I suggest, taking his hand. “Let’s go for a walk. Get some distance away from this crowd.”
We head down the sidewalk, away from the restaurant’s awning and the warm string lights that hang from it.
As we move into the darker part of the street, I start to notice how cold the evening has become now that the sun is down; I shiver involuntarily, my hands rising to my bare upper arms.
This doesn’t get past Reed. He shrugs off his blazer and drapes it over my shoulders. I’m suddenly surrounded by warmth and the scent of his cologne. I look up at him in surprise.
“Won’t you get cold?”
He shakes his head, wrapping an arm around me. “Nah. I’m too heated.”
I let out a breath that’s only half laughter. “I’ll say.”
He sighs, closing his eyes. There are a few moments of silence before he says, “I’m sorry about all that. What a mess.”
“It’s okay,” I say quietly. “I didn’t expect it to gogreat.I just hoped we could get through the night.”
He gives me an apologetic look. “Then I’m sorry I stormed out.”
“No—don’t apologize. It was nice to have someone stick up for me.”
He kicks a loose chunk of concrete on the sidewalk, sending it rolling away. “I just wish I didn’t have to.” He swears under his breath, almost too quietly for me to hear. “He’s an asshole. They both are.”
I can’t disagree with him, even though it’s my knee-jerk reaction.
“I have to fight to make even one decision, and he can’t respect it,” Reed says. “And, worst of all, he can’t respectyou.He’s too full of himself.”
“I can’t say I came into this expectingrespect,“ I say wryly. “I remembered enough about your parents from when I was a kid.”
Reed nods. “I know. I just thought they might be able to clear the bare minimum.”
