“Reed. This is a surprise.” Sara beams at her son, her gaze bouncing between the two of us. She reminds me a lot of Lucy—petite and curvy, with honey brown hair and the kindest eyes. “Rose. It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too. How have you been?”
“Even better now that we know that, ah,thisis going on.” Russ draws a hand in the air in front of Reed and me.
I’d be reassured by how happy he is for us except for the sigh that gusts out of Reed. “Dad.”
It’s down a notch from his usual level on the annoyed scale, but he still sounds like the idea of anyone talking about us exhausts him. I suppose it makes sense. He does hate being in the spotlight, and we’re all watching him like we’re waiting for him to start a juggling act.
“Ah, ah.” Russ steps back, rustling the plastic bread bags behind him. “I won’t say more.”
He keeps his word and doesn’tsayanything, but if smilingcould strain your muscles, Reed’s dad would need to see a physical therapist ASAP. His cheesy grin is irresistible.
At least their happiness for us doesn’t feel as excessive as my parents’ eager interest. Maybe Sara and Russ are lunatics behind closed doors and are giddily pushing Reed to make the shift from boyfriend to husband, but I doubt it. I get the sense they’re happy for him no matter what he does next.
With my parents, happiness always comes with an expectation for more attached.
“We were thinking about going to the concert in the park this week,” Sara says. “Jovie had good things to say about last week’s show.”
Russ chuckles. “Ah, yes. She was thoroughly impressed by theentireshow.”
He winks at me, and I have to suppress a chuckle of my own. I can only imagine what Reed’s niece had to say about us. Her euphoric squeals proved she’s already a devoted fan.
“She’s too young to have a phone,” Reed mutters. “She shouldn’t be in the group chat in the first place.”
Sara bats at Reed’s arm, moving close to his small cart to let someone else go by. We’re officially those people who stop to have conversations in the middle of a busy grocery store. I don’t hate it as much when I’m on this end of it.
“You just don’t like all the emojis she uses,” Sara says.
“And would it kill her to use fewer exclamation marks?”
I snort a laugh. “The captain of terse text exchanges doesn’t like emojis and exclamations? Shocking.”
He frowns down at me, of course, but I swear his mouth lifts at the edges. It’s a baby step in the direction of my goal to see his real smile for myself. And, frankly, mesmerizing.
Until he realizes his parents are watching us the same way Jovie did at the concert. Like they’re ready to pull up a chair and dig into some popcorn while they enjoy the show.
His full frown goes back up like he’s slamming a door shut. Isquash down my disappointment. I’ve got time to draw it out of him. One day, little smile. One day.
“We really should get going. We’re grilling burgers tonight and realized we’re out of ketchup. Jovie goes through it so fast.” Sara grabs a bottle and puts it into her basket. “Rose, we’d love to have you join us for dinner if you don’t have plans.”
Plans? No such thing when I’m already making grabby hands at the Bridger family dinner invite.
“That sounds?—”
“Another night,” Reed says at the same time. “Give her a minute before we throw her to the wolves.”
Oh. I was looking forward to being surrounded by those wolves.
His parents laugh as they start moving farther down the aisle. “We’re not that bad,” Sara tells me. “And we’ll be happy to have you join us anytime.”
They wave and continue down the aisle until they round the corner and disappear from view. It’s not a huge grocery store, so chances are good one or both of us will run into them again before we leave. Unless we stay right here, blocking the condiments indefinitely to avoid them.
With our arms around each other and my side burning up everywhere we touch. I swear this man runs hotter than average.
Now that the “Reed and Rose” show is on hiatus, I slide out from under his arm. I can’t get emotionally invested in that show, despite its compelling hook. Anyway, it’s easier to breathe when he’s not touching me. None of that pesky hitch in my lungs whenever he talks.
Reed’s gaze is stuck on me. “I’m sorry about that.”
