Page 87 of Dining for Love
“Erm, okay…” Reid drawls.
“So, get clear!” She throws up her hands. “I swear, young people are as stupid as the day is long.”
I cough out a laugh.
“I’m…sorry?” Reid says.
She stands and points at us. “You should be. I’m done with you two.” She gestures in frustration and goes inside.
Reid and I look at each other. “Do you know—?” he starts.
But the screen door squeaks open and Agatha’s head pokes out. “And clean this up. I don’t want ants.” Her head disappears, and the door bounces shut behind her.
Reid chuckles and shakes his head. “This is the part about living in small towns that I didn’t believe was actually true.”
“Oh, it’s very true.” I stand and start cleaning up the glasses, tidying everything to take back inside Agatha’s kitchen.
“You don’t have to do that, you know.”
I glance up at him. “Do what?”
“Clean up.”
I scoff. “What did she say? Pa-shaw?”
He quirks a grin. “She did.”
“Then I’m saying that same thing to you. Just—wait here? Probably best only one of us goes in there in case she decides to launch another offensive.”
He opens the door for me and waits as requested. I put everything away and return to the porch.
“Come on, I’ll walk you home,” he says.
My chest squeezes at the phrasing. Notcan I come inorlet’s watch some bad television and I’ll rub your feet,butI’ll walk you home. All I can do is nod, swallowing the thickness in my throat and unable to speak.
But when we get to the door, he follows me inside and shuts the door behind him, locking it. He opens his arms and I sink into them, wanting the world to stop for just a little while. Wanting simply to feel safe and wanted in Reid’s arms. Not toworry about what happens next, or how I’m supposed to love a man like Reid, who keeps secrets so habitually that even now, it feels like I barely know anything about him.
“I know this isn’t forever, Reid. I get it,” I finally manage to say, my voice muffled against his shirt.
“Willa,” he sighs.
“But it’s hard. So freaking hard,” I sniff, unwilling to cry. I will not cry.
Yeah, I’m gonna cry.
“I love you, and you’re going to break my heart,” I choke out.
“Fuck, Willa, you’re breakingmyheart,” he says softly, tipping my chin up and kissing me gently.
He peels my clothes off right there in the kitchen, and when he scoops me into his arms to walk me to the bedroom, I try hard not to wonder how many more times I’ll get this. Get him.
We make love slowly, tenderly, as though it might be the last time. When I come, I manage to hold back the tears until his head is buried in the crook of my neck.
Later, we have a simple dinner of pasta with red sauce and garlic bread. We’re lounging on the couch with Midnight, her little body splayed between us, the fuzz on her stomach sticking straight up and just begging for pets, when I say, “You have to take her with you.” I barely get the words out, and they’re so soft I’m almost surprised he heard them.
“Tonight? I thought I’d stay with you, if that’s okay.”
“I meant when you leave. When—when you go back to Miami.”