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Unsure of what to say, I flicked my gaze away from his, and as if the universe could sense an emotional storm brewing, my phone chirped with a calendar reminder.
“Well, now look at that,” I squeaked. “It’s time for us to head to the first house.”
CHAPTER 3
Reed
* * *
My heart stuttered when Giana opened the door.
She looked even more beautiful than she did the day I first laid eyes on her.
Seeing the woman who should’ve been my forever love only solidified what a fool I’d been to let her go. I missed her smile, her raspy voice, her touch.
I simply missed her.
Going separate ways six years ago burned a hole in my heart. Our career aspirations got between us, and even though I wanted Giana to come with me, she didn’t want to leave her grandmother. Besides, I wouldn’t have wanted her to walk away from opportunities she’d worked so hard to achieve. Giana and I went back and forth with the long-distance option. Yet, we’d decided early on in our relationship that becoming distant lovers would never be a viable lifestyle for us. Maybe we should have tried.
Either way, I promised myself I’d never let Giana—or Gigi, the nickname I gave her back in college—know that our collapse broke me and shattered my belief in “love conquers all” bullshit.
As we drove to the first house, a wall of silence sat between us, save for her phone’s GPS sounding off directional commands.
In college, conversations between us flowed effortlessly, no matter the topic.
Now, nothing but dead air flowed effortlessly between us.
Ideas for small-talk starters swam in my mind like hungry sharks —New York’s warm weather streak, the Yankees losing to the Mets, how stunning she looked—but all the possible words stalled in my throat.
“So, why East Hampton?” she asked as I parked alongside a sandy-orange home with a wraparound porch.
“I’d like to settle down, get away from the city, ditch the limelight of being a professional athlete.”
Her brow rose in a slow, challenging arch. “Since when do you want to ditch the limelight?”
I shifted the car’s gear into park. “Since I grew up.”
We walked down a set of cobblestone steps that led to the house, and despite its curb appeal, I knew it wasn’t for me.
Too small. Too open. Too plain.
I needed space, seclusion, and a place that immediately felt like home.
After tapping in a lockbox code, Giana opened the door, and I trekked behind.
“This home is more traditional, the smallest of seven we’ll tour this weekend” —she led me through a foyer and into a dark living room— “with four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a finished basement.” She stepped over to the staircase, long legs accented by high heels that click-clacked against hardwood floors.
My heart thrummed wildly at a flashback of nights when those legs were wrapped around me.
Calm the fuck down.
Her phone chirped, and she plucked it out of a black designer bag held in the crook of her elbow. After glancing at the screen, Giana rolled her eyes and tossed the phone back into her purse. “There are four bedrooms upstairs—”
“Actually,” I interjected. “Can we move on to the next house?”
She whirled around to face me, bewilderment—or maybe annoyance? —etched in a pair of stormy blues that always took my breath away. “You’re already over this without giving it a chance?” The icy inflection in her voice made the question sound more like an accusation.
“I just don’t feel it necessary to waste our time with what I know won’t work for me.”
